Become A Ghost

Become A Ghost, Chapter Sixteen

"Close your eyes," Byakuya instructed Orihime; she obediently shut them and waited patiently. He was not entirely sure how to accomplish a transfer from her inner world to his, but figured he would try the usual way, first.

He arranged himself into the appropriate meditative position customarily used by all shinigami to enter jinzen, the state of mind needed to penetrate one's own inner world. He calmed his mind, settled his thoughts, focused on Zenbonzakura, and felt his consciousness slip sideways as Orihime's bright meadow faded, growing darker, as if twilight had come upon it swiftly. The world turned into a realm painted in azure and cerulean, then sapphire and cobalt, before settling into a velvety indigo, spangled with stars. 

They were still seated beneath a tree, but instead of under a tall aspen in Orihime's meadow, they were in the exquisite formal garden that comprised Byakuya's inner world beneath a Japanese maple with leaves of scarlet. Seeing their color was no challenge, as despite the darkness, the moon was huge and bright, and stone lanterns had been placed strategically to illuminate the area. The daffodils had been replaced with carefully sculptured shrubbery and trees, with a narrow stone footpath winding throughout. Not far away, the little pond reflected the moon in a wavering silver ribbon that coursed below the half-circle of a bridge arching over the pond's span. The far side of the pond featured a tiny, exquisite jewel of a tea house, its perfectly balanced design and symmetry always a balm to Byakuya after the riotous chaos of the real world. 

He gazed around at it in wonder, as he did every time he entered his inner world. He felt... full, as if his skin were bulging outward from being overstuffed, and realized that it was the result of Orihime's soul residing within his own. An inner world was meant to house only two: a person and his zanpakutou. There was no room alloted for visitors, and the effect was of being forced into clothes that were far, far too small. His chagrin at entering her inner world without permission grew.

Beside him, Orihime gasped. "Oh..." she breathed. "This is..." It didn't seem she could decide on what to look at first, her eyes flying from the pond to the bridge to the lanterns to the tea house to the trees. When she looked back at him at last, she said, "Is it true that inner worlds are a reflection of their owner's soul?"

He nodded, but a thread of apprehension coiled in his belly. "Their owner's, and their zanpakutou's."

"Then, Byakuya, you're very beautiful." Her smile seemed to glow brighter than the moon. Then she waved to some invisible creature somewhere only she could imagine it being. "Oh, and you too, Senbonzakura, if you can hear me!"

Byakuya could feel Senbonzakura's delight in the compliment. It burned almost as fiercely as his own. He was, of course, aware of his physical appearance; his mother had been renowned for her great beauty, and his father had been a handsome man; by all accounts, Byakuya was nearly his father's mirror image. He had had no control over his looks, but had been judged by them and treated accordingly the entirety of his life. By this point, he discounted them as entirely worthless, contributing nothing to his honor, his pride, his strength, or his accomplishments. 

But this... Orihime's admiration for the beauty of his soul-- not his face and form, not for his wealth or what his power could do for her-- this was a true tribute, and it humbled him. It was the first time in his life he had revealed such a tender inner working of himself and the gesture had been met with heartfelt approval. After a lifetime of strict rules, of clan elders invariably demanding more and better, of offering himself to Hisana and being gently, kindly, sweetly rejected.

Orihime saw him. 

She saw him, naked and shivering before her, and she found beauty there.