(Disclaimer: I don't own or make money off of Aladin or it's music. Those rights obviously belong to Disney)
One Jump Ahead
“Get back here you little trouble-maker!” Byakuya Kuchiki shouted angrily.
Kenshin laughed and jumped over a desk that was in his way, dodging Juushirou’s arm, trying to help Byakuya catch him, “Getting slow in your old age, Cap’n!”
“I’m going to murder you!”
Kenshin knew that Byakuya hated him with a burning passion, and that hurt, but it was the only way to get him to show any emotion, get him to pay him any attention. It was better than nothing.
Today he’d managed to sneak up on him and make him spill his ink all over some (not really important) paperwork. He’d made sure to do it when he’d just started and when he was working on something trivial. He didn’t want to cause too much trouble after all, just enough to be noticed.
Renji gave him a small grin, letting him run past and tumble under Hisagi’s diving grab. As a street urchin in soul society, he’d learned to stay one jump ahead of the people with pointy things. Now a Soul Reaper, he had taken up a medical position rather than actually fighting, having had enough of that in the life before.
But he had to let Byakuya catch him at some point or he’d get bored and give up, so, whoops, his foot slipped and he slid to a stop outside his own bedroom door.
Byakuya firmly grasped his wrist and pulled him almost roughly –actually completely roughly –into that bedroom. Before the younger boy could blink, he was tossed unceremoniously onto his futon. The breath rushed from his lungs at the impact; his vision went blurry for a moment. And then Byakuya was on top of him, his hand on his throat. Shit. Who had told him? Did he know, or was it only coincidence? Kenshin had died being strangled by the man he’d loved, and in a sick irony here he was again.
“Listen to me, street-rat.” His usually composed voice growled, “If you weren’t one of our best healers, I would have you tossed out with the rest of the riff-raff.”
He continued, but Kenshin didn’t hear him. Couldn’t, over the blind panic and pounding of his own heartbeat. But the pain from those words alone, combined with the slight pressure on his airway –almost but not quite obstructing his breathing –brought tears to his eyes and reiatsu to his fist. Before, he’d never struck Byakuya. Ever. Not even to avoid a punishment from Unohana-taicho. But he had to get free, or he’d… he didn’t know what he’d do.
Cry like a bitch, probably, to borrow a term from that nasty Nnorita arrancar.
He swung his fist, not as hard as he could, but his reiatsu sent Byakuya sliding across the floor, and he took off out his door. The rejection and the fear were just too much. Renji made to smile and wave as he passed, but quickly seized him by the shoulders when he realized that Kenshin was no longer playing a game.
“Yo, Ken, what hap-“ he cut off when he saw the forming red mark on the younger shinigami’s throat, and his face grew very dark. “He strangled you?”
“Just…” he had to clear his throat, “Just held me down.”
He brushed a gentle finger over the mark, “Obviously, it was more than that.”
“Renji, I need to go get some fresh air. I think I hit him pretty hard. Will you check up on him for me?”
Renji nodded solemnly.
{Unohana’s personal chambers}
“That should do it. The cut wasn’t very deep.”
