oukajin:
the reprimand was not unexpected, but that did not prevent it from stinging any less. the truth hurt, as they say. all of the conflicts between them and his misconduct had been byakuya’s fault for being so egregiously stubborn. it only showed how flawed and human he was despite his best attempts at hiding such. humility was best shown when no prompting was needed and out of one’s own desire. in the case of the nobleman, his pride had caused him this pain. his pride as an aristocrat had come above that of being a person, to which senbonzakura’s words had gone unheeded.
“yes, you did warn me, and i did not yield.” he admits, “instead, i had believed that if i had listened to you then i’d surely be a disgrace. however, it seems as though i have done that anyway, even if no one else views it as that.” he retains his composure for all he breathes out a faint sigh. senbonzakura had his own type of convictions. “if that is the case, then i offer you my apology. That I am sorry that I have brought us to this point.” he didn’t have to take it, but he did wish for him to listen.
What good is an apology if the damage is done? Byakuya had ignored them and hurt them both severely in the process, Senbonzakura forced to participate in the self mutilation Byakuya had sought to inflict upon himself. Perhaps that was the crux of it though, that the damage he’d inflicted on self had in equal parts been inflicted on Senbonzakura. It had been selfish and foolish, leaving the blade spirit scorned and discontent. The world he had lived in had been dark and cold for so long and that had been the fault of the man before him.
“I do not care for your family, they are foolish just as you are. That you chose them over yourself-- over me-- is all I need know.” Rukia was perhaps the only member of said family Senbonzakura paid much regard to, soft affection offered to her and her white blade. “That you chose a title and name over self and sister is your value, and that value has diminished in your foolishness.” Words are harsh as he draws blade, directing it toward his wielder.
“I do not accept your apology.” Nor had he asked for it. “You do not understand--” Did not understand his own self, his own soul. “But I will make you.” To which blade disintegrated into pink flurry, no command given as the deadly blossoms were little more than an extension of self. Were the other so foolish as to attempt the same Senbonzakura would, for once, refuse him use of his Zanpakuto. There was a lesson to be learnt here, one serious as tiny blades formed an arc of lances behind him.
“Or we will die.” There is a dull finality there, hand gesturing as one of the constructed blades was fired at the other man. Were it to miss blades would explode from their shape in a deadly flurry outwards before reforming once more behind the spirit. He, unlike Byakuya, was not limited by the aspects of himself the nobleman had not bothered to learn.
