Chapter 2

"What do you think of that?" Mikan asked, adjusting a kanzashi. "Your hair is getting so long!"

"It's been forever since I had it put up," Rukia noted, admiring the intricate twists Mikan had swirled into her hairdo. Ponytails when she was doing dirty work didn't count. "And thanks for coming over on your day off."

"Oh, it's no problem, someone had to come fetch Ichika anyway," Mikan insisted. "And this is fun!"

There was a slight throat-clearing from the doorway. Rukia looked up to see Renji lounging against the doorframe. He was dressed to the nines, in a deep blue haori shot through with silver embroidery over a lighter blue kimono. His hair was smoothly pulled back and tucked under a dark grey silk scarf. He'd done a light touch on his make-up, very classic, masculine and formal. Her heart jumped into her throat. He looked as handsome and strong a branch family head as she'd ever seen. How had she possibly found this man in the worst dump in Soul Society?

"Get out of here, Lieutenant Abarai!" Mikan shouted, hurling a hairbrush at him with the skill of a major league pitcher. "She's not ready yet!"

Rukia didn't get to see the part of the day where Renji and Mikan traded off Ichika, but somehow, it was utterly unsurprising that Renji had managed to cultivate a jokingly antagonistic relationship with her usually demure maid, the way he managed to subvert the class-based rules with everyone in Byakuya's social circle. He ducked, his arm shooting up to catch the hairbrush as it flew by.

"I'm not here for her, I'm here for you," Renji explained. "Ichika has requested your services. She says my hair-dos are only good enough for daily wear, she wants to 'look good' for Uncle B. Please keep in mind that she's going to play football today."

Mikan gave him exactly the same indulgent smile Rukia had seen her give to Ichika. "She'll just have to wait until I'm done Lady Rukia's make-up."

Renji locked eyes with Rukia in the mirror. Oh, no. Oh, no, he was giving her the smolder. "I can take care of that," he said, his voice low in his throat. Rukia felt her face flush. Renji loved doing her make-up, although he rarely did it for formal occasions, in part because Renji doing her make-up nearly always resulted in them being late.

Mikan's eyes darted between them, and the tips of her ears turned bright pink. "I shall just go see to Miss Ichika, then." She cleared her throat as she left the room. "Please remember that you have a reservation. "

"We won't forget," Renji assured her, his eyes never leaving his wife as he came over to sit beside her.

"If she quits, it's your fault," Rukia accused him, turning to look at him.

"If she was gonna quit from us being too horny, she woulda left ages ago," Renji reminded her, putting one hand possessively on her knee as he looked over her extensive collection of make-up that she didn't know how to use. He found a tub of goop that seemed to satisfy him, and scooping out some on his fingers, he began gently rubbing it onto her face.

"You look really nice," Rukia complimented him, her voice not coming out quite as confident as she had hoped.

"You do, too," he assured her, fondly. "I was a little surprised you agreed to this. You owe Byakuya money or something?"

Rukia snorted, as if she could ever begin to pay back the amount of money Byakuya had dropped on her over the years. As though he would ever accept a single kan of it. "He just thought… I just thought… It's been a while since we've been on a date. I thought it would be fun."

Renji raised one eyebrow as he tipped her chin up and turned her face slightly from side to side. "If I recall those ancient times, I always used to offer to take you to nice places, and you only ever wanted to go to hellholes."

Rukia blew some air out of her cheeks. "Well, for one, I always thought you were just offering because that's what you thought I wanted, and for two, I was so sick of going to classy places, I was honestly grateful to finally have someone to eat garbage with. It wasn't until we were Courting that I realized you were actually into this nonsense."

"Mostly, it's that seeing you dressed up like this gets me all hot an' bothered," Renji explained, flipping through her brushes. "We can go find a yakitori cart if you'd rather."

"Why do you lie to me, Abarai Renji?" Rukia asked him, but with no sting in her words. "There's nothing wrong with enjoying being fancy once in a while." She gave him a little half smile. "It's also a lot more fun being fancy with you than a bunch of frowning aunts, as it happens."

"I dunno," Renji hummed, brushing some powder onto her cheek. "Does it make me an jerk that I, a jackass from the deep Rukon, get off on going to snob restaurants with the strongest, most beautiful woman in the Seireitei on my arm? Also, the food at these places is bonkers good, your tastebuds are broken, you know that, right?"

"That doesn't make you an jerk," Rukia assured him. "The fact that you are an jerk is incidental. And you've worked hard to get where you are. You deserve to be proud of yourself once in a while." She gave him a sly smile. "You're also not the only one who likes parading around with a stone hottie on his arm."

"Mmm, 'zat so?" Renji hummed, pulling the cap off an eyeliner. "Eyes closed! Anyone I know?"

"Well, I told you I went to lunch with Hanatarou this week."

Renji shook his head. "Dang. That guy's the whole package."

Rukia attempted to kick him in the shin while holding her face perfectly still. "You know he's taken. You're pretty good, too, y'know. Those delts."

"I been working on my delts, actually."

"Are you ever not working on your delts?"

"I rotate through. They're looking pretty good right now though, you wanna see?"

Rukia cracked one eye open. "Abarai," she informed him. "We have a reservation."

Byakuya had promised Rukia he could manage to take Ichika to her football match by himself. It was strange to be without attendants, but Rukia had said that most of the other children in the league were the offspring of other shinigami, not necessarily nobility, and they might find Byakuya's usual retinue to be… how had she put it? Overkill?

It was no matter. Byakuya handled things by himself all the time. Right now, he was handling a bag of orange slices, a bag of bananas (bananas were better than oranges), a box of baked goods, a bag containing Ichika's football equipment, which appeared to include an entire medieval suit of armor, and a water bottle with rabbits printed on it. These things were in his right arm. His left hand was completely full of one, small, rather sticky hand.

Ichika was carrying Princess Seaweed. She had started off by insisting on carrying the orange slices, which had lasted all of two minutes.

"You will have to remind me of the rules of this game," Byakuya informed her. "Is football the one where you use ink and a brush to draw elegant words on paper?"

"No, Uncle B!" Ichika shouted indignantly. "That's calligraphy!"

"Is it the one where you hit someone with a sword until they fall over?"

"No, Uncle B, that's kendo!"

"Is it the game where one runs faster than everyone else?"

"Yes!"

"So the faster player wins? I should think I would be very good at this game."

"No , Uncle B, that's tag, and Mama always wins at tag! For football, you have to be fast and you have to kick the ball into the goal and you have to be Good! At! Moving! Side! To! Side!" She danced back and forth, kicking an invisible ball. "And then BLAMMO! Into the goal. And you are on a team. You can't win by yourself."

"Ah, I see," Byakuya nodded seriously. "Your mother has never once beaten me at tag."

Ichika did not appear to hear him. "That's the field, Uncle B! Can I go? Can I run now?"

"You may go," Byakuya granted, and suddenly, his left hand was left holding a threadbare toy and his niece was tearing across the well-groomed soccer field.

There was a small set of worn bleachers on either side of the field. Byakuya made his way toward the one where most of the children appeared to be wearing the same orange jersey as Ichika, and began to unload his burdens. He wondered if there was some sort of Football Steward to whom he was supposed to entrust these items.

"Oi! Mornin', Captain Kuchiki! You remember the orange slices?"

Byakuya blinked, taken aback at the man who had addressed him so familiarly. He was of middling height, dark-haired, nondescript in face. There was a cigarette tucked behind one of his ears and another clenched between his teeth, although it wasn't lit. He wore a nylon jacket with "Assistant Coach" embroidered in huge letters on the back and he was currently trying to wrestle a pair of funny shoes onto a small girl. Byakuya wasn't much for faces, but the horns had stuck in his memory. "Good morning, Lieutenant Akon. I have the orange slices." Byakuya frowned at the child. He could not imagine anyone from the Twelfth Division having a family.

"Today it's Assistant Coach Akon," Akon corrected dryly. "Abarai loaned me his jacket."

"Yes, I should have recognized its aura of excess enthusiasm," Byakuya commented.

To his surprise, Akon chuckled. "Yeah, it's got Big Abarai Vibes for sure. I feel grossly cheerful just wearing it. He owes me about fifty favors for this."

"I did not know you had a child," Byakuya noted.

"I'm Hachigou Nemuri!" the child bellowed at him indignantly.

Byakuya stared back at her blankly.

"Nemu," Akon said, looking the child carefully in the face. "This is Kuchiki Byakuya. He is the captain of the Sixth Division, and the Family Head of one of the Four Great Houses. I think he's the most noble person you've ever met, is that right?"

The child's face has taken on a vaguely blank look, and Byakuya swore he could hear a faint whirring sound.

"Yes, Akon," the girl replied.

"He's also Abarai-chan's uncle. Got that?"

"Maternal or paternal?"

"Maternal."

"I have got it!" The girl's eyes refocused. "Hello, Captain Kuchiki! Do you like football? I love football! I am very fast!"

"Most people found the old Nemu a little lacking in the personality department," Akon explained, as though Byakuya wanted any part of this. "So the boss let me implement a machine-learning algorithm that builds up her personality as an aggregate of people she meets. That's why I signed her up for the football team."

"I see," Byakuya replied.

"She might ask you some questions. It's really helpful, honestly, if you give her a straight answer. She doesn't interact with that many nobles and I think the Abarais and the Head-Captain have got that part of her algorithm pretty messed up. I didn't foresee that."

"I see," Byakuya replied again.

"What's your favorite color, Kuchiki Byakuya?" Hachigou Nemuri asked.

"Blue," Byakuya answered.

"Do you like cats better or dogs?" Hachigou Nemuri asked.

"Dogs," Byakuya answered.

"Would you rather be able to fly or be invisible, Kuchiki Byakuya?"

"In various circumstances, I have done both. Flying is more enjoyable," Byakuya answered. "What do any of these questions have to do with being noble?"

"I am getting to know you," Hachigou Nemuri clarified unhelpfully.

"It's a random walk information gathering subroutine," Akon explained, as if that explained anything.

"HI, NEMU!" Ichika had returned.

"Hello, Abarai-chan!" Nemu shouted. "You need your shin guards!" Information gathering, random walk or otherwise, was abruptly forgotten.

"Uncle B, I need my shin guards!" Ichika hollered.

"I am sure we have them here somewhere."

Akon's spirit phone rang, and he ducked off to the side while Nemu attempted to help Byakuya identify in which orientation the shin guards were supposed to go.

"Why do you have four pairs of socks in here?" Byakuya frowned. "Which ones are the correct ones?"

"I want the unicorn ones today!" Ichika sang.

"I wish I had unicorn ones," Nemu groused. "Mine have eyeballs on them."

Byakuya vowed to not look too closely at the child's socks.

"AKON! Why do my socks have eyeballs on 'em? Abarai-chan has unicorn socks! I want unicorn socks!"

"I'm on the phone, Nemu."

"This isn't right," Byakuya frowned, looking at his work.

"The socks go on outside the shinguards, Uncle B!"

"You could have mentioned that earlier."

Akon cursed loudly.

There was a moment of silence, and then the children's eyes went wide.

"AKON SAID A BAD WORD!"

Akon was scratching his forehead pensively, around the base of his horns. "Hey, Kuchiki, you know anything about football?"

"I know that it is an activity for hooligans and miscreants," Byakuya responded coolly.

"Great. Perfect. Coach called. His kid is sick. I'm the coach now. I'm naming you assistant coach."

Byakuya contemplated this. "I want to be the coach."

"You just said you didn't know anything about football!"

"You are wearing the jacket. The jacket says Assistant Coach."

"You can wear the jacket. I'll give you the jacket."

"I will not," Byakuya stated firmly, "wear the jacket."

Rukia's eyes skimmed over the menu. Everything was hand-written and nothing was in complete sentences, just unpunctuated words strung together. Fancy dining was so stupid.

"I might want the matcha waffles," she mused. "But maybe I just want the raspberry ginger compote that comes on top of them. "What are you getting?"

"Pancakes," Renji answered instantly.

"You make great pancakes," Rukia frowned. "We can have pancakes anytime."

"Babe, I haven't made pancakes in years. Do you know how much work it is to whip the egg whites? And even if I'd made them yesterday, it's still a delightful luxury to eat pancakes someone else's biceps have ached for."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Rukia replied loftily, remembering quite fondly the days of being brought pancakes in bed, and then getting to admire the biceps in question afterward. She tossed the menu down on the table. "Order for me. I will be judging you on your performance."

"Easy," Renji retorted. "I'll just order double pancakes and if you don't like it, I'll eat yours."

"Just try it and I'll freeze your fingers off," Rukia threatened. "You know that if Byakuya were here, he would ask if they had any nattou. Plain nattou. Extra slimy. For me."

"You hate nattou."

"He forgets. He loves nattou."

"Be kind, Rukia, he's watchin' the kid."

"You're right, you're right. He's an angel. A weird angel. A weird, nattou-loving angel."

There was a nearly silent rush of air next to them that would have made Soi Fon proud, and a waitress in an elegant kimono stood before them. "Welcome, Lord and Lady Abarai. You honor our establishment on this lovely morning." The woman's voice was low and breathless, as if she were telling them a ghost story instead of telling them about the special menu.

"We just like pancakes," Renji informed her.

"We are grateful to my lord brother for allowing us to come in his stead," Rukia spoke over her husband. He always did this, joking around with wait staff in fancy restaurants and ramen counters alike. He was kind about it, and she would be a liar if she pretended like she didn't enjoy it, but pretending to be irritated with him was part of the game. "Lord Kuchiki sends his congratulations on your new pastry chef. An excellent acquisition."

"Indeed," the waitress went on in her dramatic whisper. "It is my delight to inform you that we are able to offer an imported morning drink from the World of the Living: coffee. It is much like tea, with a more bold and robust flavor."

"Lady Abarai and I are both familiar with that beverage- we've spent a lot of time in the Living World, y'know" Renji announced pompously. Cripes, she loved this stupid jackass. "Rukia likes hers black, but extra cream and sugar for me."

"Ah, pardon me, Lord Abarai," the waitress gasped, "Of course you would be familiar with it! You will have to tell us how ours compares. As for the rest of your meal, do you know what you wish, or do you need me to tell you more of the menu?"

"Pancakes for me," he replied. "Can I get 'em with the raspberry stuff that comes on the matcha waffles?"

"The raspberry nectarine ginger compote is an excellent accompaniment, milord! Wonderful choice."

Renji regarded his wife with half-closed eyes in what was almost, but not-quite a smolder. "My lady wife will have the dashimaki tamago, with an assortment of your house pickles."

A warm feeling of contentment curled in Rukia's heart. Adding dashi to a regular sweet omelet was tricky business and a really good dashimaki tamago was a sign of a chef's skill. Someone who knew her less well might have just asked for their spiciest pickle, but that would just cover up evidence of the chef's expertise. It was a very refined order. The jerk had nailed it. He wasn't done, though.

"I hear," Renji went on, "that when Chef Morihide was at Waterlily House, she used to make little melonpan in the shape of bunnies. Wasn't on the menu, but you could ask. Lady Abarai is very fond of rabbits."

"I will see what can be done," the waitress said in a knowing tone of voice.

"Would appreciate it," Renji shot the waitress a wink as she disappeared into the ether again.

Rukia kicked him under the table. "How did you know that?"

Renji looked untroubled and more than a little pleased with himself. "Kira's been riding shotgun on Captain Otouribashi's restaurant review column for years. Just 'cause he complains about it doesn't mean he doesn't have the dirt on every fancy-ass place in town."

"You can't even go to Saturday brunch without doing your homework first, can you?"

"I wanted to know what was good, which it turns out, is the pancakes. Also, Kira's jealous as hell that we're here, which is like extra sauce."

"Sounds like the lieutenant doth protest too much."

"Have you even read their column since Kira actually started helping write it? He used to just go along for the free food and Otouribashi would add in all this stuff about 'my gloomy companion could not even be cheered by the delicacy of the soup', but Kira got fed up with that, and started writing his own parts. Now, it's like a back-and-forth where the Captain gushes about everything and Kira criticizes it. It's super popular and really funny, to be honest. Hisagi's trying to get them to write a book."

Rukia rested her chin on one hand. "Someone cuts all the pictures out of the Bulletin to make collages before I can get to it. I'm lucky if I can read a third of an article. Maybe I should start getting a copy delivered to the office."

Renji rubbed his chin thoughtfully and took a quick glance around the room.

Rukia squinted at him. "You're making a thinky face. I don't like it when you make that face."

"Just wonderin', with you slacking on your current events, if I might finally have a chance at VIP Bingo."

Rukia sat up straight, her eyes sweeping the room. "Back corner, green haori, curly hair. Kyouraku Ukichirou, Head Captain's nephew."

Renji whistled. "Brutal. My own wife, who has a forty-year head start on me, won't even leave me the low-hanging fruit. Not that I need it. Lady with him is Tanaka Haruhi, primary cellist for the Seireitei Modern Philharmonic."

Rukia scoffed. "Now who's picking low-hanging fruit? Brother has a huge crush on her, talks about her constantly."

"He admires her musical skill, Rukia. She is a professional and Captain Kuchiki doesn't have crushes."

"Whatever," Rukia grinned. "Double or nothing for the lady with the gonzo hairdo next to the potted plant."

Byakuya frowned, deeply, as the phone rang against his ear. The entire reason he had agreed to start carrying the cursed thing was in case of "family emergencies". This was… family-related. And sort of an emergency.

"Hitsugaya here."

Byakuya cleared his throat. "Ah, excellent, Captain Hitsugaya! It is Captain Kuchiki." There had been a great deal of muffled noise in the background. He hoped he was not interrupting something of importance.

"Captain Kuchiki! Is everything all right? It sounds like you are in grave danger!"

Byakuya frowned. He would not have classified it as grave danger, but Captain Hitsugaya was his Best Informal Acquaintance, and was sometimes able to make these uncanny intuitive leaps into Byakuya's inner emotional state that he himself did not always recognize. "I require your assistance," Byakuya replied. "It is time-sensitive, but there is no imminent danger."

"Quiet, Matsumoto! I am on the phone! Yes, Kuchiki, tell me your location, I can be there immediately!"

"I just need to know how one wins a football game," Byakuya explained. "To clarify, I am not actually playing the football game."

"I'll be right over! Where are you? Hang on, Kuchiki!" There were more strange sounds in the background that sounded a lot like female voices and possibly loud music.

"I am at Football Pitch B in Himura Park. We are 'Away'."

"Got it!"

"Kuchiki, I could really use your help here!" Akon shouted. "Can you keep Noriyuki from chewing on Shimizu? Thank you!"

Byakuya stared over all the identically clad children. Which one was which? How did Akon possibly keep them straight?

There was a whoosh of flash-step. "I'm here. What the-" Hitsugaya bit his tongue,"-the Frozen Heavens is going on here?"

"Shift change, shift change!" Akon was bellowing. "Kuchiki! Find numbers 4, 17 and 22 and push them in the direction of the field!"

"I told you that you did not need to come," Byakuya told Hitsugaya. He located #17, who happened to be sitting on #9.

"It's no problem," Hitsugaya replied tersely, propelling #22 toward the pitch with an encouraging pat on the back. "I was at Karaoke Brunch with Momo and Matsumoto and I didn't know Hirako and all his weird friends were coming."

"Why would you do such a thing?" Byakuya frowned.

"Do I really need to explain to you why a man would foolishly agree to something his beloved sister asks him to do?" Hitsugaya leaned back slightly, peering at the back of Byakuya's jacket. "Assistant Coach Kuchiki?"

"I am only wearing this to protect my clothing from stains! You would not believe how unexpectedly children stain things!"

"So what is the problem? Why did you call me again?"

"I want to win this game."

"He doesn't understand," Akon broke in. "You win by surviving the game and then your child is so tired out that she takes a nap for once. Do you have a light?"

"I don't think you should be smoking around children," Hitsugaya pointed out.

Akon made an angry noise in his throat and bit down harder on his cigarette, which was beginning to look a little worse-for-wear.

"Boy, I wish we'd had a nice field like this when I was a kid in Junrinan," Hitsugaya reminisced fondly. "Usually, we'd just play ball in the streets until some grown-ups yelled at us."

"So how do you win?" Byakuya insisted. This was a child's sporting event, there was no time for nostalgia.

"Your team kicks the ball into the goal more times than the other team."

"I know that! But look! That child is wandering in circles! That one is eating a flower! Ichika knows how to handle the ball, but Akon will not allow her back on the field! She would have a goal by now, but all the children on both teams always cluster around the ball to prevent its forward progress, like a mob!"

"There are lines, Kuchiki," Akon said dryly. "The children go on the field according to the lines. I didn't even make the lines. Abarai made the lines. Oh, speaking of which! Hey, Abarai-chan!"

"Yes, Mr. Akon?"

"When the next period starts, it's your turn to be keeper. You feel up to it?"

Ichika tugged on her ponytail. "Do I get to wear the pinny?"

"You do."

"YAY! I will do it! "

Byakuya threw up his hands. "I love her immensely, Hitsugaya, but how do you reason with a creature that is more excited by wearing a filthy scrap of nylon than of humiliating her opponent?"

"I think you're supposed to 'enjoy it while it lasts'," Hitsugaya suggested. "Are you really looking forward to her asking you how to hone her killing intent and screaming about 'leg day'?"

"Yes."

"Uncle B?" There was a tug at his hideous jacket.

"Yes, my blossom?"

"Daddy does a cheer with whoever's turn it is to be the keeper. Will you do a cheer with me? So I can be ready?"

Byakuya froze. His blood pounded in his ears. He looked around, but clearly, neither Hitsugaya nor Akon were going to rescue him from this. Carefully, he knelt down on one knee. His niece's eyes were shining and huge. He could do this. He must do this. It was his duty. "Ichika. The role of the keeper is to protect the goal, is that correct?"

"Yes!" Ichika grinned, showing off those little pointy canines that Byakuya supposed were now a hallmark of her house. Or maybe they were just baby teeth.

"To pit one's flesh and bone as the last pillar of defense against the strength of the enemy?"

"Take it down a notch," Hitsugaya suggested out of the corner of his mouth. "Two notches, maybe."

"Even within the great Kuchiki Clan, it is the purpose of the Abarai to protect. To give all they have for those they love and the things they believe in. You are the hope of your family, and it is your life's purpose to become strong so that you, too, will be a great protector. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle B."

Carefully, he reached out and patted her firmly on the head, exactly three times.

"Here's your pinny, kid," Akon said, dropping it on her head, just as Byakuya pulled his hand away. "Good pep talk, Kuchiki. Abarai usually just shouts 'Ora ora ora!' at them and spins them around, as long as they're not a known puker."

"I do things as I see fit," Byakuya announced.

"Uncle B?" Ichika asked. "When I'm in the goal, will you take a picture of me? With your phone? To show Mama and Daddy?"

As if the cheer had not been enough! Byakuya felt drained. It was as though she was pinpointing all his weaknesses. How did Rukia and Renji maintain such stoicism in the face of this, day in and day out?

"No problem, Ichika!" Hitsugaya's voice rang through the flustered fog of his panic. "I'll help him out. Can I take one, too? With my phone?"

"Thank you, Uncle Shirou!"

"Truly," Byakuya managed, "I am lucky to have you as a comrade, Hitsugaya."

Hitsugaya clapped him on the shoulder. "You got me out of singing backup on Living World power ballads, Kuchiki. I am here for whatever you need."

"You want some more pancake?"

"Yes, I do. Mostly I just want more compote."

"Here, give me your plate." Renji shook his head. "Cripes, I nearly just cut it up into tiny pieces for you. Put me out on an ice floe, Rukia, your cool and sexy husband is gone."

"Shan't," Rukia replied, accepting her plate back. "Who would watch my kid for me? You get an A+ on ordering by the way, that omelette was amazing. This raspberry stuff is really good, but I don't think I could have eaten a lot of it."

"I could," Renji replied. "I did, in fact."

Rukia chewed her compote thoughtfully. "Renji?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks."

"Thanks? For the pancake?"

Rukia carefully wiped her bite of pancake around on the plate, trying to absorb every bit of raspberry residue she could. "For doing so much. For being so good." She took a deep breath. "You've always been a great partner, even before we were married, even when we were just friends, but I feel like I don't tell you enough what a good husband and father you are and… and I know you want to be out fighting Hollows and drinking with your friends, and you never complain and I just don't deserve you." She stuck her lip out.

"Hey. Hey," Renji took her hand in her own and tilted his head until she looked him in the eye. "Sure I like fighting Hollows and embarrassing Iba at the bar, but I did that for forty years and I'll get to do it again in a few more. Sure, Ichika is frustrating and exhausting and sometimes kinda disgusting, but I'm really happy with our lives, honest. I love that I can hold down the fort so you can keep your eyes on that captain's haori. I know your brother thinks we should just have a ton of servants take care of her and do everything for us, but I like that Ichika gets to be a part of our lives and we get to be involved in hers. She's a bag of trouble, for sure, but I like her a lot. She reminds me a lot of you as a kid, as it happens. And for every hard thing, it passes before we even know it. You remember diapers? You remember when our entire life was carrying around diapers and washing diapers and thinking about diapers? When's the last time you thought about diapers?"

"My mind had completely erased diapers," Rukia admitted. "Also breastfeeding."

Renji nodded, knowingly. "So don't you worry about me. I've been on latrine detail at the Eleventh the day after New Year's. Fatherhood is great. There's even some good parts, like that obstacle course we made last week, or when she falls asleep on my shoulder." He paused. "I do not mind being thanked with pancakes now and again, though. You could compliment my abs more, too, I wouldn't mind that."

"The pancakes and the abs seem like an either/or proposition," Rukia noted.

"That's what makes me so amazing," Renji pointed out. His brow creased for a moment. "How… how about you? Are you happy? Sometimes I worry that maybe you would be a little happier if our life wasn't barely contained chaos at all times."

"I love barely contained chaos," Rukia announced grandiosely. "I thrive on barely contained chaos."

"Good, 'cause that's what we got," Renji chuckled, examining how much coffee was left in his cup. He finished it with a long sip and then put the mug down again. "That's it? You weren't leading up to anything?"

Rukia frowned, genuinely confused. "Leading up to something? Like what?"

Renji breathed out a puff of air. "Well, you took me out nice and let me do your make-up and said a bunch of nice things about me, I been vaguely worried all morning you were buttering me up for something."

"What sort of thing?" Rukia laughed, as if she ever hesitated to ask him for anything.

"Makin' another one," Renji mumbled under his breath.

Rukia let out a horrified bark of laughter. "Are you kidding?" The thought had never even crossed her mind. Had it been crossing his mind? "I mean- I mean- I like the one we have, but- but-"

"I think we're on the same page," Renji squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I would do it if you wanted, you know I would, but… Ichika is more than enough for now. Maybe after you make captain?"

"Yeah! Loooong after I make captain, though, not right away. Maybe. If we feel like it. Or not. There's nothing wrong with just having one! We can talk about it then." Rukia realized she was talking very quickly.

Renji nodded vigorously. "Sure, no reason to decide now."

"No, none at all. I'm having trouble deciding if I want another coffee or another mimosa, honestly."

"Mimosas are nice, but we are going to have to go retrieve our kid after this, so I'm getting another coffee. You can get another mimosa."

"Nah, coffee for me, too," Rukia decided. "We're in this together."

"Come on! One more, Akon! Pleeeeeeeeease!"

Akon shook his head furiously, holding up one finger as little Nemu waved an orange slice at him. The man hung his head for a moment, seemingly deep in concentration, and then spat one, two, three, surely no, surely yes, four, annnnnnd five completely stripped orange peels into his hand.

"Wow!"

"Amazing!"

"Sugoi! "

"Good job, Coach Akon!"

"How did he do that?" Hitsugaya gaped, clearly impressed.

"I do not wish to know," Byakuya replied. He was eating a banana.

"I have an extra row of teeth!" Akon offered the explanation absolutely no one wanted, pointing at the interior of his mouth. "They're retractable. No one at Twelve is impressed by it. I take an audience when I can get one."

"Was that impressive, Ichika?" Byakuya asked his niece.

"Yes," Ichika replied. "Daddy can't do that. He's tried. Mama can fit three in, but she can't chew them like that and Daddy had to hit her on the back until she spit them out."

Byakuya had no comment for that.

"How many oranges can you fit in your mouth, Kuchiki Byakuya?" Hachigou Nemuri asked him.

"Zero," Byakuya replied. "I prefer bananas to oranges."

"Which do you like better, bananas or apples?"

"Bananas."

"Bananas or blueberries?"

"Bananas."

"Bananas or cherries?"

"I prefer bananas to cherries, but cherry trees to banana trees."

"Excuse me!"

Byakuya looked over at the woman who was regarding him crossly. "Yes?"

"These cookies."

"Yes?"

"Do they have seaweed in them?"

Byakuya blinked. He pulled out the slip of paper he had found tucked into the top of the box of cookies. He read out the words written in Mikan's tidy hand: "'They are gluten-free, soy-free, egg-free, nut-free, dairy-yes.' It does not say anything about seaweed," he admitted. "Is seaweed usually in cookies?"

"They are shaped like seaweed," the woman insisted. "My Ryuusuke is allergic to seaweed."

"They are shaped like Ambassador Seaweed," Byakuya corrected.

"I don't think there's any seaweed in them," Hitsugaya, who was gnawing on one, replied. "They taste like regular butter cookies. Oh, turn it over, Kuchiki, there's more on the back."

There was a full ingredient list on the back. "Seaweed-free," Byakuya confirmed proudly.

The women's stern expression melted. "Oh! How thoughtful of you! Ryuusuke! You may have a cookie."

"Did you say they were gluten-free?" another father asked.

"Yes?" Byakuya offered hesitantly.

"Ah, wonderful! Kiko, I changed my mind, you can have one!"

In short order, there was a horde of children swarming his cookies. Byakuya had never had so many people interested in his cookies at once. His heart felt very, very full, as though it could not hold even another orange slice.

"Kuchiki Byakuya," Nemuri asked. "What is your favorite book?"

"Narrow Road to the Deep North," Byakuya replied. "It is a book about traveling and nature, by the great poet Bashou."

"Hitsugaya Toushirou," Nemuri asked. "What is your favorite book?"

"Tales of the Iron Army, " Hitsugaya replied around his cookie. Byakuya perked up. He had never discussed books with Hitsugaya before.

"Tales of the Iron Army comprises a series of twelve books. Which is your favorite?"

Hitsugaya pursed his lips. "Defense of the Broken Gate, I think," he decided.

"Fog before the Mountain is better," Byakuya corrected him.

"I didn't know you read fiction," Hitsugaya said, surprised.

"I occasionally indulge," Byakuya defended. "Perhaps we should set aside a special time for discussion, when you may attempt to explain your clearly indefensible positions."

"That sounds cool and fun," Hitsugaya responded dryly. "I'm free next Saturday at whatever time Karaoke Brunch is."

"My favorite book," Ichika offered, without being asked, "Is Rejection of the Twin Fishes!"

"That is my favorite book, too!" Nemuri agreed enthusiastically.

"I refuse that!" the girls chorused together in a shower of giggles, echoing the protagonist's catchphrase.

Hitsugaya eyed Byakuya, a soft look in his eyes. The fact that a generation of shinigami would grow up remembering Ukitake Juushirou as their favorite author, rather than one of the greatest of all shinigami captains was probably something their old friend would have been very pleased with. Byakuya just hoped that the obviously absurd and untrue rumors regarding the inspiration for the character of the Petulant Prince, a humorous caricature of young noble scion with a bad temper, would wash over before Ichika was old enough to be aware of them. To be fair, the Petulant Prince got a bit of a bad rap, in Byakuya's opinion. He did have a number of heroic moments, and honestly, had a lot of pressure on his young shoulders.

"Uncle B reads me one chapter every Wednesday when I go to his house," Ichika announced proudly. Her face grew thoughtful. "Uncle B? Do you think we could read a chapter today? Even though it is Saturday?" Her face took on a look of gritty determination. Byakuya couldn't decide whether it made her look more like Rukia or Renji. "I would try to take a nap if you did!"

Byakuya had been wrong. It turned out that his heart was able to feel just a teensy bit fuller.

Once again, Rukia found her brother out on the engawa, gazing peacefully out at the blooming flowers. This time, however, he was not empty handed.

"Are you day drinking?" Rukia exclaimed, clearly delighted.

"I am celebrating," Byakuya defended. "She is asleep in your old room. Would you like some?"

"We had cocktails at brunch," Renji explained.

"He means yes," Rukia continued. "Sounds like we'll be sticking around for a bit." She hefted her skirts up so she could take a seat next to him. Renji plopped down on her other side.

"Good," Byakuya appraised. "I needed an excuse to open the second bottle."

"How did the game go?" Renji asked amiably.

"Ah, the game! We lost by approximately 900 goals. Apparently no one keeps score. Here," he passed Rukia his phone. "There are many pictures. You can swipe to the side to see more of them."

"Aww!" Rukia squealed, scrolling through pictures of Ichika standing in the goal, Ichika being hit in the stomach with a ball, Ichika clearly prepared to defend the goal while the ball sat serenely in the goal two feet behind her, Ichika throwing the ball back into play. Rukia gasped when she reached the final few photos- attempts at an Ichika-Uncle B selfie. "Brother, are you cheesing? I didn't know you could cheese!"

"Don't worry, sir, I didn't look, out of my respect for you," Renji stared off into the middle distance.

"I'm texting these to myself," Rukia announced.

"No! Stop! Do not use my phone!" Byakuya snatched it back.

"Too slow for the Assistant Goddess of Flash," Rukia preened. Curse Yoruichi for ever bestowing that wretched nickname on her!

Byakuya scowled at his sister. Rukia mugged back at him.

"Was she good?" Renji asked, vaguely concerned. "No meltdowns?"

"None, she was very well-behaved." Byakuya made a contemplative face. "I do not understand why I am so tired."

"We do," Rukia replied immediately.

"And, as deeply tired as I am… as soon as she fell asleep and I had a moment to myself… I began to miss her."

"Yeah, that happens," Renji agreed.

"Did you have a good time?" Byakuya asked, his brows creasing. "You look very beautiful today, Rukia. Reasonable job, as well, Abarai."

"It was wonderful, Brother, thank you so much," Rukia said, leaning against him and sipping her sake.

"Thank you for giving me a niece," Byakuya replied softly. "I like her very much." He paused. "Also, I have given Mikan a raise."

"Good," Renji replied. "She deserves it."

~the end