satoko ayakura | 綾倉 聡子 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewisechild) wrote2025-01-04 06:10 am
thewisechild) wrote2025-01-04 06:10 am
Entry tags:
fic: developments (bleach x-over)
DEVELOPMENTS
?
Although it is Byakuya-sama who breaks the kiss, he doesn't leave her feeling wrong or out of line for her initiative, not with the way he leans their foreheads together afterwards, their noses aligning, his bangs hanging soft - like reminders of a constraint he is no longer wearing in any physical sense - against her skin. Brushes of softness that match the light of the setting sun and the quietness of the next half hour where she simply sits close to him, feeling the outline of his body that she would give herself to in an instant, but he isn't asking it of her, and perhaps she can be grateful for that, too. Perhaps the way he doesn't force her onwards, neither of them, truly, is what sets him apart from anything and anyone she has known before.
And once the half hour is up, she gracefully rises from her kneeling position, taking her wringed, wrought cloth with his blood, holding it like another gift between her fingers, as she bids him goodnight much the same way she did upon arrival.
Some things start where you would expect a natural end, she thinks, walking back the way she came.
*
The next day, she sends Ume to her parents' house to ask her mother for the recipe for dry-fried maitake with sprouts and Ume returns with one of her mother's usual, extensive lists that she, then, gives to the Kuckiki manor's own kitchen staff, asking them to prepare the meal without straying from the recipe. Follow it precisely, she says. The cook bows to her with the utmost astonishment, it is the first time he has seen her in his kitchen, after all, and she tells him to pack up the food in a bento and have it sent to Byakuya-sama for lunch at work. Please have it done no more than a half hour in advance, she instructs him, it is best lukewarm.
Yes, mistress, he replies, bowing a second time.
She goes back to her quarters quietly, Ume helping her change into her daytime kimono, styling her hair, and all the while Satoko stares at herself in the mirror, at her eyes that have livened up and her complexion that looks more glowing, so even Ume dares to comment on it, and she thinks, I'm someone's wife now, reaching up to push a stray lock of long, dark hair out of her face, where it's draped itself across her forehead, the same place he touched the night before. It's the first time...
Ume smiles at her, holding the second mirror up, so Satoko can inspect her work on her hair. Until recently, Satoko always wore her hair loose, perhaps held up by a bow, but the elaborate, intricate styles of married women were like a future she could barely envision herself living. Now, her neck is left bare to the elements, her floral face cream making her skin shine with moisture and life.
It's a part of herself she no longer minds displaying to the world.
*
A week later, Ume and a couple of their security accompany her to the nearby market. That, too, is a first. She hasn't left the house on her own for anything but to cross the district to her parents' home for more than six months.
As she walks among the stalls, she can hear her name, her full name, her new name, whispered excitedly amongst vendors and visitors alike, while every stall welcomes her with free samples and tiny bamboo plates of food to taste - and she is gracious about it, of course, as she has been brought up to be, she has Ume carry everything and she only ever takes one bite, so as not to get too full or spill on her clothes in the process. Ume whispers to her about the quality of the fabrics they're contemplating, beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms for spring, a tailor could have a kimono ready before winter.
The vendor bestows them enough yards of it for a whole set, kimono and matching obi, free of charge. It would be my honor, Kuchiki-sama, if a woman of your beauty would wear this lowly design, he tells her, when the pattern is much more intricate than just that. It looks like a thick cluster of cherry blossoms across the middle, cutting the pale blue background in half. She would drown in blossoms, wearing it.
Satoko thinks of Byakuya-sama and thinks, perhaps that would be a sweet fate.
Leaving with an armful of silk, Ume smiles at her, head bowed discreetly, as they both catch the vendor muttering excitedly to his assistant, didn't Kuchiki-sama look beatiful? So glowing, she shone from happiness, don't you think?
The assistant's reply doesn't travel the distance, but just the notion that it can be seen on her face, how she feels, it fills Satoko with a sense of pride that she hasn't known before. Something more integral that pride in family and pride in position or name. It's more personal than that. It comes from a more deep-seated place.
I'm proud of who I am, she realizes, halfway on her way back to the manor. I'm proud of who I am, when I'm his.
Like the kiss, days prior, the thought leaves her body warm. Satisfied.
And once the half hour is up, she gracefully rises from her kneeling position, taking her wringed, wrought cloth with his blood, holding it like another gift between her fingers, as she bids him goodnight much the same way she did upon arrival.
Some things start where you would expect a natural end, she thinks, walking back the way she came.
The next day, she sends Ume to her parents' house to ask her mother for the recipe for dry-fried maitake with sprouts and Ume returns with one of her mother's usual, extensive lists that she, then, gives to the Kuckiki manor's own kitchen staff, asking them to prepare the meal without straying from the recipe. Follow it precisely, she says. The cook bows to her with the utmost astonishment, it is the first time he has seen her in his kitchen, after all, and she tells him to pack up the food in a bento and have it sent to Byakuya-sama for lunch at work. Please have it done no more than a half hour in advance, she instructs him, it is best lukewarm.
Yes, mistress, he replies, bowing a second time.
She goes back to her quarters quietly, Ume helping her change into her daytime kimono, styling her hair, and all the while Satoko stares at herself in the mirror, at her eyes that have livened up and her complexion that looks more glowing, so even Ume dares to comment on it, and she thinks, I'm someone's wife now, reaching up to push a stray lock of long, dark hair out of her face, where it's draped itself across her forehead, the same place he touched the night before. It's the first time...
Ume smiles at her, holding the second mirror up, so Satoko can inspect her work on her hair. Until recently, Satoko always wore her hair loose, perhaps held up by a bow, but the elaborate, intricate styles of married women were like a future she could barely envision herself living. Now, her neck is left bare to the elements, her floral face cream making her skin shine with moisture and life.
It's a part of herself she no longer minds displaying to the world.
A week later, Ume and a couple of their security accompany her to the nearby market. That, too, is a first. She hasn't left the house on her own for anything but to cross the district to her parents' home for more than six months.
As she walks among the stalls, she can hear her name, her full name, her new name, whispered excitedly amongst vendors and visitors alike, while every stall welcomes her with free samples and tiny bamboo plates of food to taste - and she is gracious about it, of course, as she has been brought up to be, she has Ume carry everything and she only ever takes one bite, so as not to get too full or spill on her clothes in the process. Ume whispers to her about the quality of the fabrics they're contemplating, beautiful patterns of cherry blossoms for spring, a tailor could have a kimono ready before winter.
The vendor bestows them enough yards of it for a whole set, kimono and matching obi, free of charge. It would be my honor, Kuchiki-sama, if a woman of your beauty would wear this lowly design, he tells her, when the pattern is much more intricate than just that. It looks like a thick cluster of cherry blossoms across the middle, cutting the pale blue background in half. She would drown in blossoms, wearing it.
Satoko thinks of Byakuya-sama and thinks, perhaps that would be a sweet fate.
Leaving with an armful of silk, Ume smiles at her, head bowed discreetly, as they both catch the vendor muttering excitedly to his assistant, didn't Kuchiki-sama look beatiful? So glowing, she shone from happiness, don't you think?
The assistant's reply doesn't travel the distance, but just the notion that it can be seen on her face, how she feels, it fills Satoko with a sense of pride that she hasn't known before. Something more integral that pride in family and pride in position or name. It's more personal than that. It comes from a more deep-seated place.
I'm proud of who I am, she realizes, halfway on her way back to the manor. I'm proud of who I am, when I'm his.
Like the kiss, days prior, the thought leaves her body warm. Satisfied.