127A/N: This chapter is a direct sequel to the first chapter.
Verse: 'Half-Canon'.
She had awoken the next day from where she lay on the straw mat to find herself alone, with the Captain's overlong scarf wrapped snugly around her neck.
Hisana supposed she must have fallen asleep while sitting next to him yesterday. His silent presence had been soothing and she had felt contented, warm, and tranquil with both his windflower silk scarf and his spiritual pressure cocooning her body. Eventually, she had lost herself in the lull of the moment and had nodded off, her head resting on the hardness of his broad shoulder.
She didn't recall anything after that.
Hisana got to her feet now when she noticed a scrap of paper lying on the table inside her hut.
Scribbled words in ink greeted her vision as she picked it up. The message was signed off by Shirogane-san.
The note explained to her that they had left her hut and tracked down the Hollow in the middle of last night, and that they had completed their mission by obliterating the Hollow. Shirogane had thanked her for taking them in yesterday, before adding that she shouldn't be so trusting towards other strangers in the future, and had advised Hisana never to invite anyone who was relatively unknown to her into her home again. He had wished her well, then signed the note off with his name.
Hisana stared at the note, and was stunned to feel miserable tears gathering at the back of her throat.
They were gone.
The Captain was gone, and she'd most likely never see him again.
She was so naïve. She'd met him for only a few hours, yet she had allowed herself to become so captivated by him. The only thing she had left of his existence was his beautiful silver-coloured scarf, which she clung to desperately, praying that his tantalising scent would never vanish from the silk.
And Hisana still didn't know his name.
She didn't know how long she stood there, clutching the note as tears spilled down her pale cheeks.
The next two months had been painful. Winter approached, and the already glacial weather became near unbearable. Hisana spent her days wandering the streets of Hanging Dog, trying to cope with the freezing cold weather and the bitter, lonely emptiness in her chest. Most other residents chose to stay in their huts during the winter, for they did not have sandals and it was agonising—not to mention dangerous—to walk on the icy ground without any footwear on. But Hisana was relentless in her search for her younger sister, and though she left her hut less frequently now, she continued venturing the paths of Hanging Dog now and then in hopes that she might find her missing sister.
She kept herself bundled in the Captain's scarf most of the time, as the extremely long, flowing silk shielded her to a certain extent from the bleak elements of the winter, albeit the fabric was rather thin. As for her feet, she had put on thick socks to help alleviate her discomfort. They were not sandals, but they were still better than nothing. Nevertheless, she had no choice but to cut short her trips outside of her hut for fear of suffering from a case of frostbites. Not requiring much food was a good thing, since it helped lessen her needs in this unforgiving place.
And then one day, while she was out and about the streets of Hanging Dog, she spotted a familiar figure, his sunglasses glinting under the sunlight.
"Shirogane-san!" Hisana called in delight.
The Shinigami in question swung around, his black robes billowing, and his face broke into a wide grin as recognition crossed his countenance.
"Hisana-san!" Shirogane greeted. "Long time no see!"
"What are you doing here?" Hisana asked, tendrils of fog escaping her lips as she spoke.
"I'm just doing a routine patrol of a few districts," Shirogane explained. His brow furrowed. "Hisana-san, why are you even wandering out here? It's freezing. You're going to get sick."
"I'll be fine," Hisana said dismissively. "It's great seeing you, Shirogane-san. Since you're here, could you pass your Taichō a few things for me?"
The Shinigami blinked bemusedly. "Oh. Sure. What is it?"
She tugged off the long, expensive windflower silk scarf from around her neck, then gathered and folded the lengthy material, wincing as the frosty air assaulted her vulnerable skin without the protection of her scarf. Then, she handed the folded scarf to Shirogane, along with a small package that had been tucked under her skinny arm.
"Hisana-san, you should keep the scarf," Shirogane said in alarm. "You're going to freeze to death without it."
"I can tell that this scarf is invaluable," Hisana said softly, despite the stricken pang in her heart at parting with the only reminder she had left of the mysterious Captain. "I don't think I should keep it any longer."
"Trust me," Shirogane told her gravely. "If Taichō chose to entrust something that important in your care, there had to be an intention behind it. And... Hello, what's this?" He held up and peered at the paper package she had passed to him.
"A loaf of bread," Hisana revealed. "It's to thank him for his kindness. Because of his generosity, my ankle is healed and I have been reasonably warm for the past two months."
"Hisana-san..." Shirogane touched her shoulder kindly. "It's very sweet of you, but trust me when I say that none of us ever go hungry in Seireitei, especially not Taichō. You need the bread more than we do."
Hisana shook her head, smiling gently. "I do not possess much spiritual energy, so I actually don't need a lot of food."
"Maybe not a lot, but you still need some food," Shirogane refuted. "No offense, Hisana-san, but you're pretty underweight. Some nutrition would be good for you."
"Please, Shirogane-san." Hisana gazed at him imploringly. "I cannot live my life knowing I owe someone a debt. Please, help me ease my burden."
He hesitated, then emitted a low groan. "If you put it like that…"
She bowed deeply. "Thank you."
"Then at least promise me you'll go back to your hut now," Shirogane prompted. "It's way too cold for you to be out here."
Hisana nodded meekly. "Yes. Once again, thank you. It's wonderful seeing you again."
He nodded. "You, too."
The Shinigami, still holding the parcel and the scarf, watched as the small woman walked away, the frosty winds of the winter season tugging at the black strands of her hair. Pink spots had materialised on her cheeks from the cold.
She was very pretty, he thought, but not in the typical fashion that he had become accustomed to with most women. Take Matsumoto Rangiku, for instance. She was tall, willowy, and curvaceous, with large breasts that always threatened to spill out of her robes. Matsumoto was sexy and confident—the embodiment of a man's wet dream.
Shimizu Hisana, however, was petite and slim. She didn't possess beauty that was was bold or flamboyant like Matsumoto, nor was she as assertive as the latter—and yet, there was still something enchanting about her delicate, demure presence. The first time Shirogane had seen her, he had been struck by her large, sad violet eyes, which contradicted the gentle smile on her lips. She looked ethereal and very breakable. Her gracious, compassionate, and almost selfless nature only made her more alluring.
Shirogane was sure he was not the only one who had been drawn to her unusual beauty. Kuchiki Taichō, despite showing little emotion or insight to his private thoughts, had actually left his light windflower silk scarf—the precious heirloom belonging to the Kuchiki Clan—with a commoner in the Rukon District. Of course, the Sixth Division Captain could easily have the master weaver Tsujishirō Kuroemon III weave another scarf for him as a replacement, but the fact of the matter remained that Byakuya had actually entrusted such an expensive item to a commoner for a few months. Shirogane could only think of one reason, and it baffled him.
Kuchiki Byakuya was rarely, if ever, swayed by a woman's charm; Seireitei was filled with hundreds of beauteous, seductive women, which the nobleman ignored. Shirogan had always suspected that Byakuya had highly sophisticated tastes when it came to women, which meant he only favoured noblewomen of a similar standing with himself. There had been rumours that during his adolescence he'd once shared an affair with Shihōin Yoruichi, the former Head of the Shihōin Clan, and that a few ladies from other noble families had also visited his bed, but he'd never showed an inclination to marry any of them, even though Shirogane heard that the Kuchiki Elders had been urging him to marry soon so that he could produce an heir. So the mere idea that Kuchiki Taichō might be intrigued by a peasant from Hanging Dog—a person of the lowest ranking in the entire hierarchy within Soul Society—was mind-boggling. Shirogane had always figured that should the Captain ever lower his standards, it would be to a common female Shinigami at the very least.
It seemed he might have been wrong.
But then again, Shirogane might also be overthinking the situation, though he doubted it.
Glancing down at the scarf and the paper package in his hands, he sighed.
It appeared he would be making quite an interesting report to Taichō today.
Three uneventful days had passed since Hisana had crossed paths with Shirogane.
She didn't see him again.
Hisana had been half-asleep on her straw mat, her slender body curled up tightly in an attempt to combat the cold, when she heard it.
A soft rap on the door of her hut.
Her violet eyes flew open, and she was instantly fully awake.
She didn't remember ever getting a visitor before, save for the two Shinigami whom she had invited to her home a few months ago. In the Rukon District, having uninvited visitors was usually a bad sign—it probably meant there were intruders who wanted to rob her of her food and other belongings. Hisana swallowed. She could feel trepidation and discomfort stabbing the inside of her belly. Her skinny hands gripped the hem of her tattered robes so desperately that her knuckles turned white.
She didn't have much for anyone to steal, anyway. All they could take were her candles, which helped keep her warm, and the few tattered clothes that she owned. At the moment, there was no food in her home, since she had handed Shirogane a loaf of bread, which was all she had gotten her hands on for the past week.
Another quiet rap came on the door.
Hisana frowned. The wooden door was flimsy and battered; if an intruder wanted to break in, they could do so easily. So why would they bother to knock on the door instead of just forcing it open and barging in?
A tense second ticked by.
The woman got to her socked feet unsteadily, and slowly approached her door with wary steps, all the while hugging herself against the cold.
Despite fervently telling herself that she was going to regret her decision, curiosity eventually overcame her and Hisana, upon taking a deep, nervous breath, pushed her door open with shaky hands. She shivered as the icy air outside rushed into her hut, and she hugged herself tighter.
An unknown man stood there, dressed in long traditional black robes with an immaculate white collar around his neck. His attire looked far too formal and pristine for him to possibly be a resident of the Rukon District, at least not in Hanging Dog.
Hisana noticed that he was carrying two packages that were wrapped in a pale blue and black cloth respectively.
"Is your name Shimizu Hisana?" the man questioned without preamble.
Hisana blinked rapidly. "I—yes."
"These are for you."
The man held out the wrapped packages towards her, and the stunned girl took both of them from him hesitantly, unsure if she should refuse him. She stared at the packages quizzically, her fingers gripping the hard surface of their contents—whatever they were—within the elaborately embroidered silk.
"Um, excuse me," Hisana piped up weakly. "But why are you giving this to me?"
The man gave her an appraising look, then said, "This is from Byakuya-sama."
"Byakuya-sama?" Hisana echoed, bewildered.
"Lord Kuchiki Byakuya of the Kuchiki Clan," the man replied, looking somewhat annoyed. "Do you not know whom you met two months ago?"
It was then when it hit Hisana. She took a step back, her mouth falling open.
The Captain. The mystery Captain. That was his name.
"I don't understand," Hisana whispered. "Isn't he a Captain? Why—"
"Byakuya-sama is the Captain of the Sixth Division of the Gotei Thirteen, and the Head of one of the Four Noble Houses in Seireitei," the man cut her off flatly. "You would do well to remember that, child."
Hisana's lavender eyes turned as wide as saucers, and she paled.
She'd understood before that there was a gap in status between herself and the Captain, but she had never realised just how tremendous that gap was, not until today. If this was true—if he was really the Head of a prestigious noble family—then she was truly nothing compared to him. She wasn't a Shinigami, not even a lowly ranked one. She didn't live in Seireitei. She lived in one of the worst districts, too, where everyone wore rags and walked about barefoot. Not that it would change things if she resided in the less decrepit districts; she was still way too far beneath Kuchiki Byakuya. Forget the Rukon District—even within Seireitei, his status was above the vast majority of its residents. He was the Captain of a Division, which already made him an incredibly high-ranking Shinigami, and his noble birth only put him on an even higher pedestal.
She chewed the inside of her cheek as she remembered what Shirogane had said.
"Trust me when I say that none of us ever go hungry in Seireitei, especially not Taichō."
Of course.
Hisana felt like an utter idiot. She'd actually given Kuchiki Byakuya a loaf of bread. The Captain, who was used to the finest and most sumptuous of meals, had received a cold, soggy loaf of bread from a peasant of the Rukon District!
Her cheeks burned in shame.
She'd invited a nobleman to her pathetic, run-down home, had even fancied herself a hostess.
She was a damned fool.
Hisana barely registered as the man—who was probably a servant under the Kuchiki Clan, she vaguely surmised—bowed to her in curt farewell, before turning and vanishing in a blur of movement by executing the technique known as Flash Step.
He was gone.
Once she had regained her composure, the woman shut the door of her hut with a mortified groan. She put down the package encased in black silk on the table and diverted her attention to the blue-coloured one first, then undid the knot that kept the latter together.
The blue silk parted to reveal a neatly folded pink fabric inside.
Hisana unravelled the pink fabric curiously, and gaped when she saw that it was a beautiful silk haori. She hesitated for a brief second, then tugged the sleeves of the haori over her petite shoulders. The haori was long, so long that it reached her feet, and she sighed in contentment at the blissful warmth the haori provided, something she had not experienced since the harsh winter had commenced.
Feeling increasingly perplexed now, Hisana peeled the blue silk further away, and saw that there was also an ornate, polished wooden box inside.
She lifted the lid, and her breath caught.
It was a pair of straw sandals.
Hisana's eyes swam with tears. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Sandals were a luxury that no citizen in Hanging Dog could afford, and Kuchiki Byakuya had gifted her a pair for some reason that she could not understand.
Was there no end to his kindness?
Extremely tentative now, Hisana turned to the second package enveloped in black silk, and she slowly undid the knot, a lump in her throat.
A set of pretty lacquered wooden stacking boxes were revealed beneath the ebony silk, and she reluctantly pried open the lid, her thin fingers trembling.
A gasp tore from her lips.
It was a bento—of sorts.
The first box contained hot sweet-smelling rice, the second egg rolls, and the third a grilled mackerel. Hisana's mouth unconsciously watered. She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten rice or meat. Here in Hanging Dog, one's diet consisted exclusively of either bread or fruit. Even fruit was considered a rare delicacy, especially watermelons or persimmons.
Hisana stared disbelievingly at her bento, her heart pounding quickly in her chest.
How was she supposed to ever repay him for his generosity?
A part of her was tempted not to touch any of his gifts—though she already had on his haori—so that she wouldn't owe him anything, but her stomach ached with hunger at the sight of the plump, juicy rice and scrumptious-looking meat. The food would most definitely spoil if she did not touch them.
Hisana cautiously picked up a pair of chopsticks from between the folds of the black silk, and clasped her little hands together.
She whispered into the silence of the hut.
"Itadakimasu... Byakuya-sama."
:tbc: