Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. This is a work of fan fiction and as such I make no money from it.

A/N: Welcome to Volume I of the Resurrection Series. Just a quick note on characters and other random things before you start reading. The Bleach universe contains a lot of characters, most of which will be active in this. Not ordinarily a problem but over time people do change. Because of how long after the Winter War this is set, some characters have changed however mildly, and events will be alluded to that have been invented. To prevent having to do every single character's backstory every other chapter and making this long and boring, there will be a series of one-shots for certain key characters detailing what has happened to them and why they behave like they do. Naturally, there will be prompts on when you should read these if you wish to.

The main pairing for this story is shounen-ai (male/male). If this bothers you then I would suggest hitting the back button in your browser now. For those who are merely looking for lemon I suggest you do the same as this will contain no lemon despite the M rating. This story is about the characters involved and not the physical manifestation of their relationship.

A note on language: I am by no means a fluent speaker of Japanese, but names will follow traditional Japanese form including honourifics: Kuchiki-taichou rather than Captain Kuchiki etc. Also, you will come across the odd Japanese word as well so for those of you who have seen the anime etc. then you should have no problem reading this as there will only be small words used such as "arigatou" and "hai". I like to keep things as authentic as possible but at the same time know that it is not entirely possible in all cases.

Thanks for braving the author's note this far and I hope you enjoy Resurrection.

Resurrection

Prologue: A Place to Think

And here in my place of secrets I find that at last I can think clearly
That I can think clearly of you and what you mean to me

He sighed. Yet again it seemed as though the trees could not make up their mind. It was not as if they had a mind of their own to begin with, yet the constant changing that they had been undergoing was yet to cease. The trees could not make up their mind. No, perhaps it was not the trees. Knowing this place as he did, he knew that it could not be the trees, but rather himself that could not make up his mind. It was not the trees choosing to fluctuate between barrenness and blossoms but rather his own inner turmoil. It would have made him laugh if he partook in that sort of thing. The trees of the plane had been in that alternating state for the past few days and already Byakuya was growing tiresome of it. He was sure that Senbonzakura was too.

He glanced to the left where a lone tree was unaffected by his influence. It was bare, little more than a shadow of what it had once been when in bloom. It had been that way for more years than he could care to remember. He wondered whether it would ever return to some semblance of its former glory, yet some part of him, knowing what it represented, had come to terms with the fact that it would not.

Hisana.

That one word alone was all he needed to instantly quell such thoughts of restoration. The tree would never bloom again.

"Are you merely going to stand there or are you going to join me, Byakuya?"

He did not reply, merely walked slowly to the edge of the small pond that inhabited the plane, lowering himself gracefully to the grass beneath one of the numerous trees present. It seemed that there was another that was unaffected by the noble's influence, yet unlike the previous one, the tree beneath which he sat was covered in cherry blossoms. He was curious as to why the tree appeared to be this way, but brushed those thoughts aside at the words his companion next spoke.

"You seem to be coming here more and more lately, why?"

Byakuya glanced to his right at the figure sitting there. He was clad in clothing similar to the taichou, but in varying shades of silver and rose; without the accompanying haori. The colours swirled together much like the thousands of tiny, fluttering blades that made up Byakuya's zanpakutou.

"You know why," he simply replied.

His companion chuckled before saying to him, "So cold, even to your own zanpakutou." He became serious again a moment later however, "Of course I know why you are here, Byakuya. I would like to hear you say it though."

Silence reigned. A chill wind passed through the plane, sweeping strands of kenseiken clad hair across Byakuya's face. He did not move. Both men merely looked at the pond before them as if it held all the answers that they sought.

He could not tell how long he had been merely staring and contemplating but he was surprised that his zanpakutou had remained silent for so long. It was not normally in the man's nature, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. His hot-headedness, as it were, would have been too much for him to deal with at that moment. He sighed again.

"I come here to think," he told the man.

"About what?"

Byakuya frowned. "You really want me to admit it don't you? You know very well that I could just leave."

"You could," his counterpart nodded, "but you won't. You know that if you admit to why you have been coming here so often you are really admitting to more. The thought of that scares you…no, it terrifies you."

They were engulfed in silence again.

Byakuya knew that the man was right. How could he not when they were two parts of the same? Yet he was still reluctant to admit to anything more out loud. It was true that he had come here, to his inner world, to think as he had always done. However, it had been many years since he had retreated here for such long and consistent periods of time. Not since Rukia's supposed trial had he been here as often as he had these past few days. Thirteen days. He had been brooding on this problem for the past thirteen days. No, he had often thought of the problem throughout the years, but he had not obsessed over it, been consumed by it before like he had the past thirteen days. It occupied too much of his time. He never thought he would feel lucky for not having a fukutaichou.

"Thirteen days, Byakuya. How much longer are you going to deny everything?"

He did not reply. He seriously considered leaving but he knew that it would be pointless. Senbonzakura would merely confront him the moment he deigned to return. If he was going to admit anything it would be on his terms and not those of his zanpakutou. But was this something that he was ready to admit? After all, it was not as though anyone else would know, but the fact that he could not even admit it to himself was mildly disconcerting. He had never been one to shirk away from the truth of any situation; except this one. Why was he so unwilling to admit it?

"You feel that it will change everything," his zanpakutou replied to his unasked question.

"It will," Byakuya stated.

"Not unless you want it to."

Not unless he wanted it to change. It was perhaps a foolish belief on behalf of his zanpakutou and one made to no doubt soothe him in some way. If he was to admit to what had been occupying his thoughts so much then things would change. Maybe not externally for anyone to see, but Byakuya would know and that was change enough. It was not something to be taken lightly they both knew.

Byakuya sighed yet again.

"You will not let this drop will you?"

"Iie."

"Souka."

Silence except for the continued assault of the harsh wind upon them. A single sakura petal drifted its way on to Byakuya's knee. Carefully, he removed it from where it had settled and placed it in to the palm of his hand. He gazed at it intently.

"There is something about him that has caught my attention."

"Who?"

Byakuya clenched his jaw. He had hoped that his previous statement would have been enough for Senbonzakura to drop the subject. Was that not confession enough? They both knew of whom he was speaking and yet it seemed that his companion would not be satisfied until he said it aloud. He could not say it. He would not say it. Saying it aloud would make it tangible; a fact; something that he could not then continue to deny or then retract.

"Who?" his zanpakutou pressed.

Byakuya's fist enclosed on the petal tightly, his knuckles beginning to whiten further than the pale tone of his skin. It seemed that there would be no other way to end the zanpakutou induced torture that he was under. No matter how much he did not want to say it he would have to. He opened his hand again, the crushed petal floating gently to the grass.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."