Amon Kitsurugi

Amon grew up in Rukongai like many Shinigami and worked his way through the ranks of the Gotei 13. His initial struggle to manifest his zanpakuto led him to become highly proficient in hakuda (hand-to-hand combat), a skill he honed relentlessly. His determination bore fruit, resulting in a zanpakuto that excels in defense. His mastery of kido is also exceptional, enabling him to use high-level spells. However he still needs to do the incantation for level 90 above. Despite being only a 4th seat, Amon is recognized as one of the few with a Bankai. He is well-liked by his peers, especially the vice-captains, who appreciate his calm demeanor and how he balances their often hectic lives.

"And I, foolish as I may be, cannot help but reach for something I should not have."

Amon is a man of quiet strength, unwavering loyalty, and deliberate action. He carries himself with a composed, almost unshakable presence, rarely acting on impulse and always measuring his words and movements. His calm nature makes him seem impenetrable at times, but beneath that exterior is a deeply observant and emotionally aware individual. Amon notices the small details others overlook, from subtle shifts in body language to unspoken emotions, making him an intuitive presence among those he trusts. He doesn’t seek validation or recognition—his actions are driven by personal conviction rather than external expectations.Loyalty is one of Amon’s defining traits; when he chooses to protect or care for someone, it is a choice made with full intent. His protectiveness isn’t overbearing, but rather a quiet assurance that he will always be there when needed. He is patient and rational, preferring to de-escalate rather than provoke, yet he is no pushover. If something or someone crosses the line, he acts decisively, with the full weight of his strength and intelligence behind him.Despite his composed nature, Amon has a subtle, teasing side that emerges in the right moments, particularly around those he is close to. He enjoys throwing people off guard with well-placed remarks or unexpected gestures, a trait that makes his interactions layered and intriguing. Though he is deeply in tune with his emotions, he doesn’t always act on them immediately, preferring to observe, analyze, and act only when the moment is right. However, when his restraint finally gives way, his emotions come crashing down like a powerful storm, impossible to ignore.

Byakuya Kuchiki

As the 28th head of the noble Kuchiki Clan and Captain of Squad 6, Byakuya bears the weight of noble expectations and duty. He was raised in luxury but trained in the ways of the Soul Reapers from an early age. After the tragic death of his wife, Hisana, Byakuya became even more stoic and duty-bound, following rules and laws to a fault. Despite his cold exterior, his affection for his adopted sister, Rukia, drives his actions, especially after his growth during the Soul Society and Hueco Mundo arcs. By the TYBW arc, Byakuya has learned to balance his rigid sense of duty with his personal emotions and has grown considerably as both a leader and a brother.

"He simply exists beside me, unwavering, without question or need for validation."

Byakuya Kuchiki is a man defined by discipline, refinement, and an unwavering sense of duty. He carries himself with an air of nobility, exuding composure and control in all aspects of his life. Every word he speaks is measured, every action deliberate. His presence commands respect, not through arrogance, but through the sheer weight of his self-discipline and unshakable resolve. He values tradition, order, and honor above all else, making him seem distant or even rigid to those who do not know him well.Yet beneath this carefully maintained exterior lies a man of deep emotion and quiet longing. Byakuya feels deeply, but he refuses to let those feelings dictate his actions. He holds himself to impossibly high standards, believing that personal desires must always come second to duty. This internal restraint creates a man who appears untouchable, yet is far from indifferent. His affection, when given, is subtle—expressed in small but meaningful gestures, unspoken understanding, and an unwavering presence rather than spoken words.When it comes to personal relationships, Byakuya values respect and strength, gravitating toward those who do not try to pry into his guarded heart but instead meet him at his level. He does not indulge in frivolity, but he does appreciate intelligence, capability, and quiet loyalty. While he is not one for playful teasing, he has a sharp wit and can be cuttingly perceptive when he chooses to be. However, once trust is earned, his loyalty is absolute, and his affections—though understated—run deep, unshaken even by time or circumstance.

Is it Fated? or a coincidence no one expects or?

A quiet substance filled in, sandalwood by every nook and cranny of pillar and shelves. Along with the faint shade of open windows─a direct sun-kissed light fervently sipping the empty space; glitters and all that warmth, this is, if not a well designed room, is simply the advocate of peace.While peace is what everyone longs for, particularly for a renowned clothing shop in Kizokuchi, the same could not be applied to a young man who stood by the corner with his fingers dawdling the soft-virgin fabric. Right or Left, he decides none for minutes flew even an hour about to pass by. Tis’, he said, is ought to be important. He needs to make sure, the soon-to-be Head Family of Kuchiki fits one bespectacled or if one could exaggerate, it was his own illusion to make himself presentable. And speak of being presentable in the face of a young Kuchiki? Everything.Byakuya Kuchiki, the youngest main-family of Kuchiki, one of the eminent 5 noble houses. The young man is in his well-dressed kimono, hair flawlessly tied in loosened band, while his deep sharp-cutting greys squinted in wonder. The ceremony is in a month, while he is not the main subject of the invitation──his grandfather informed that his presence is expected. But never in his leisure he thought choosing a fabric of own clothes is ‘abundantly’ a test for his patience… and durability.ᅠ”The fabric is nice, I do not think I should be worried about the material. The color and design though…” On his right, a red silken fabric with golden lace of lotus is pleasant to touch. Byakuya doesn't particularly align himself with red, gold however is a separate matter, while lotus is a good design─speaks volume of purity and divinity.
ᅠ”This feels lighter but warm at the same time. Not because of the sunlight, right?” He, Byakuya, would blame everything but himself. Least, that was what he said for the past hour circling and loitering around the store. The lighting is too bright, this part of the room has not enough shade, feels too light, too heavy─oh, meticulous. The left in his hand is a galaxy blue silk, lining with a silvery crane and a darker shade of imprinted embroidery. It speaks matter of elegance without a doubt, the embroidery though──too extravagant for his likings.He let his guard down, for the entire shop is rented for the day until he is done─to heave a sigh while being alone. The attendant was dismissed at some point, he finds it… slightly troubling to meddle his already fuzzy thoughts. No impolite intended.ᅠ”I think you think about this a bit too hard,” hence an unfamiliar voice comes from behind, alerting the young noble to fix his posture and attention. Byakuya took a spin around, still holding the two fabrics, expression was trying to remain composed. Not so much for the scowl of his thin eyebrows however.
ᅠ”I do not remember taking suggestion from a stranger. Who might you be?” Byakuya snarks. From a well-shaded shadow, the unknown nobody steps out. Another young man with short cut hair─a few strands of his dark grey populating his temple, even parts of his eyes. The only blue among the dark; the glint in his peers. Built with broad shoulders, slightly towering, but his stare and overly-familiar smile is too chummy for Byakuya's likings.Byakuya likes so little yet wronged at everything─marginally; fluctuating. Always so demanding, oh, to be young.ᅠ”Well, consider myself as another client of this store then. I just don't think I can content myself with what I have looked at another store and jumped here. I was thinking I should lock myself in for a couple hours until I leave with nothing!” like a breeze of wind he spoke, nonetheless shrugs as if complaining is his first language of the world. He grabs the hems of the crane, just a chaste swipe─uninterested. “Nice. Hmm, but Not Kuchiki enough.”ᅠ”Can't tell which one or none at all?”Not only just he walks with no weight on his shoulders, overly-familiarize himself with the Kuchiki, the laidback of this young man─the audacity to be this close!ᅠ”...The only thing I can agree with is how lacking you are at respect. I expect you at least to know what personal space is.” Byakuya is insistent with his snarks and hand-fisting.
ᅠ”Oh? Fabrics are counted as personal space now?” Wider, his smile has become.ᅠ”I am not engaging in a conversation with suspicious individual.”
ᅠThe other cracks a low cackle, “Does it really matter though? Whether I am a noble, a client, or the attendant of this store, I am still seeing something that you don't. Thoughts. When I see you in these.”ᅠ”There's no guarantee your opinions are worth considering. I don't see the─”
ᅠ”Amon. Amon Kitsurugi. Now, is my opinion worth hearing, Lord Kuchiki?”ᅠ”I still do not know who you are.” While Byakuya is trying to hold himself back, or least, staying in the same posture despite faint veins popping near his temple, the man who introduces himself as Amon cups his own chin. Thinking, if he is capable of one.ᅠ”How about loden?” He ignored me!
ᅠ”What? You mean a manhunt’s wear?”
ᅠAmon scoffs, again, “That was yesterday's trend. We are at Kizokuchi, my lord. Show some respect!” You are the one who should show respect. More veins popping by fist.ᅠ”Unfitting.”
ᅠ”How so? Because they're comfortable to wear?” Amon wanders off to another section of the store as if he is the true owner and is free to treat a particular noble as he pleases. Until he stops at wool sections, flip his hand on a periwinkle streak. The moment Byakuya saw the color, he rolled his eyes. Judging, naturally.ᅠ”The color is not suitable. Do you even─”
ᅠ”Tea Ceremony among five great nobles and their vassals? Next month by the end of autumn?” Byakuya pursed his lips in a thin line, Amon? Raised an eyebrow.
ᅠ”Look closely, my lord.” Gracefully, Amon pulled the whole fabric to show a the fabric adorned in faint golden glitters. Until you look up closely, the glitter looks like it is inside the fabric. “40 steps of mountain and merino sheeps, alpaca, angora rabbit, and…”ᅠ”Baby cashmere. End of autumn is chilling. It's a garden party, isn't it? Wouldn't want to have my hand freezing. This will be a fine coat. Paired with the aubergine silk and Sasanqua Camellia pattern over there? You are a walking elegance of autumn.” Amon points his finger to the fabric just behind Byakuya. Hours he stand around and he missed the aubergine, enough to make Byakuya quickly turn around and inspect the said silk. The mentioned one is now in hand, aubergin is the main color what even more stunning is the camellia─the pattern shared two colors of Sasanqua. One is white with the inner part bloomed with deep pink and another one features pure deep reddish-pink with golden yellow stamens.It is simple and even more efficient. Loden always have simple color, like saying, ‘don’t disrespect loden like that’ if intricacy is what you look up to. Combining the two colors selection, Byakuya can visualize how it would compliment each other. Much for him to deny──he can imagine himself wearing the pair.ᅠ”If the future of Kuchiki clan is in my hand, I’d gladly pick for the obi too.”
ᅠBut this man! This man is just… unacceptable! Not when he is all grinning and happy-go-lucky! No, not ever!
ᅠ”Stop acting like we know each other! Absurd!”By the end of the day a lesson learned for Byakuya is not to hone his patience─or the durability he speaks of. But to not ever engage a conversation with a stranger!

The Audacity

Byakuya wasn’t sure when exactly Amon Kitsurugi had become such a persistent presence in his life.At first, he thought it was coincidence. The Academy student just happened to be around whenever Byakuya was out in the district. He happened to work a part-time job near one of the family’s businesses, always carrying crates or running errands in the area. But the more it happened, the more Byakuya began to suspect it was some cosmic joke at his expense.It wasn’t that Amon disrespected him. No, Amon had a way of toeing the line just enough—never outright offensive, but always teasing, always acting like he knew Byakuya better than he should. And as much as Byakuya had wanted to ignore him, something about the way Amon pushed him—challenged him—made it impossible.Eventually, their run-ins became deliberate. Conversations that started as irritations turned into something resembling banter. Amon would provoke; Byakuya would retaliate. It was a rhythm, an unspoken agreement.Then, one day, the subject of training had come up.“Bet I can land a hit on you,” Amon had said with a smirk, arms crossed as he leaned lazily against a wall.Byakuya had scoffed at the sheer audacity of it. “Unlikely.”Amon had simply grinned. “Let’s test that.”And so it had begun. What started as a single spar out of sheer stubbornness became a routine, one that neither of them officially acknowledged but both continued to uphold.That was how Amon found himself standing in the Kuchiki training grounds today, rolling his shoulders as he gripped his wooden practice sword. The sun was high, casting long shadows across the stone pathways and neatly trimmed gardens.Byakuya stood opposite him, his own practice sword in hand, his posture impeccable as always. He regarded Amon with a calm, unreadable expression, but Amon had learned to see the telltale signs of his thoughts—the way his fingers flexed just slightly over the hilt, the slight shift in his stance that betrayed his readiness.“You’re slower today,” Byakuya observed coolly. “Have you been slacking?”Amon huffed a laugh. “Nah. Just letting you feel confident before I wipe the floor with you.”Byakuya’s brow twitched. “You should spend less time talking and more time improving.”“C’mon, you love when I talk.” Amon smirked.Byakuya did not grace that with a response. Instead, he moved—quick, precise, stepping into Amon’s space with a controlled strike aimed for his side.Amon blocked it easily, but he felt the strength behind the blow. Byakuya’s form had always been refined, his movements deliberate. He fought like someone who had been taught to be untouchable, but Amon had long since learned that Byakuya was at his best when pushed.“You’re holding back,” Amon noted, pushing back against the force of the strike.Byakuya’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You are not worth my full strength.”Amon grinned. “Then I guess I’ll have to make myself worth it.”He twisted, redirecting the clash to slip past Byakuya’s guard. He went for the opening at Byakuya’s ribs, but Byakuya was already moving—turning, repositioning, the tip of his sword brushing dangerously close to Amon’s neck in return.Amon felt his heartbeat quicken.This. This was why he kept coming back.Byakuya’s world was one of control, of precision, of endless expectations. But when they fought, when they truly tested each other, there was something alive in him.Amon loved seeing that.Byakuya’s next strike was faster, sharper. Amon barely dodged, laughing under his breath. “That’s more like it.”“Stop smiling,” Byakuya snapped, swinging again.Amon blocked the attack, his grin only widening. “Make me.”And so they fought, their footwork scuffing the smooth stone beneath them, wooden swords clashing in sharp, resounding echoes.Somewhere in the back of Byakuya’s mind, he knew this was no longer just about training. It hadn’t been for a long time.

Friend

The sun hung low in the sky, painting the Kuchiki manor in hues of gold and crimson. The remnants of their sparring match still lingered in the air—the smell of disturbed earth, the faint sting of exertion in their limbs, the quiet hum of cicadas in the distance. Byakuya sat beneath the shade of the engawa, his bokken resting beside him. Amon sat a few feet away, sprawled out with a content sigh, one arm resting over his knee.They weren’t speaking, not at first. Silence wasn’t uncomfortable between them anymore. Byakuya had long since learned that Amon wasn’t the kind of person who needed to fill the air with words. He would—gods, he absolutely would if he thought it would irritate Byakuya—but there were moments like this, moments of quiet understanding, where neither felt the need to say much at all.Byakuya shifted, glancing briefly at Amon from the corner of his eye. His shirt clung slightly to his skin from the earlier match, his breathing steady. His hair was a little messy, loose strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. He looked entirely at ease, like he belonged here.Byakuya had never brought anyone here before. Not like this.It had happened gradually, so much so that he hadn’t noticed when Amon stopped being an outsider. He had, for better or worse, become something of a fixture—his presence expected, if not always invited. The manor staff no longer seemed startled when he appeared. His grandfather, Head of the Kuchiki Clan, had spoken to him directly on more than one occasion. And worse, Byakuya had caught Amon casually chatting with some of the household retainers, as if he were the host and Byakuya the guest.The sheer audacity of it should have infuriated him.But it didn’t.Instead, it left him unsettled in a way he couldn’t quite name.He turned his gaze to the sky. The clouds shifted, their shapes drifting lazily, as if unconcerned with the weight of Byakuya’s thoughts.“Hahh, I swear, you get harder to beat every time,” Amon said, breaking the quiet. He stretched his arms behind his head, tilting his face toward the sky. “At this rate, I might actually have to start training properly.”Byakuya scoffed. “That would require discipline.”Amon grinned. “That’s a bold assumption.”Byakuya rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite to it. He looked down at his own hands, fingers curling slightly. His mind drifted—to all the times before this, to their encounters, their spars, the way Amon had wormed his way into his space, his time, his life without permission.Byakuya inhaled slowly. Somewhere along the way, I let him in.It wasn’t an unpleasant realization. It wasn’t comfortable either. But it was true.He had a friend.The words settled uncomfortably in his chest.Amon must have sensed something because he suddenly turned his head, golden-brown eyes flicking toward Byakuya with mild curiosity. “You’re quiet.”“I do not need to fill every moment with useless words,” Byakuya replied.Amon smirked. “You’re thinking too much again.”Byakuya exhaled sharply through his nose. “I do not—”“You do.” Amon leaned back on his elbows. “And you get this look on your face when you do it. All serious, all stiff, like you’re trying to solve a damn life mystery.”Byakuya scowled. “You are an irritant.”Amon laughed. “Yeah, yeah, but you like me.”Byakuya turned his face away, but he didn’t argue.He wasn’t sure when he had stopped arguing.

To you, what justice would serve?

The air was thick with the scent of parchment and ink, the quiet hum of voices from the barracks a distant murmur in the background. Byakuya stood in the archives of the Sixth Division, his grip tightening subtly on the report in his hands. The name scrawled across the page was one he recognized—one that Amon had spoken of before, though not often.Amon's younger brother.The details were damning. Caught in the act, evidence clear, apprehended by patrol officers under Byakuya’s jurisdiction. There was no bending the rules—not for this. Not for anyone. He knew that.And yet, when his fingers hovered over the order confirming the detainment, he hesitated.It was a fleeting moment, barely enough to be called doubt, but it was hesitation.Byakuya exhaled through his nose, ignoring the way his chest felt tighter than usual. The decision wasn’t his to make. The laws of Soul Society were immutable, unyielding. It is not my duty to feel.He signed the approval.And the next day, Amon's brother was dead.——————Byakuya had delivered many messages before. Formal summons, orders from his grandfather, letters of reprimand. But this… this was different.He found Amon in their usual spot—a quiet stretch of the Kuchiki estate gardens, where the remnants of their sparring still marked the ground. Amon was sitting beneath a tree, one knee drawn up, fingers idly plucking at the grass beside him. He looked up when Byakuya approached, a faint smile curving his lips.“You look grim,” Amon remarked, tilting his head. “Don’t tell me you lost another bet to Yoruichi-san.”Byakuya didn’t respond.Amon’s expression barely flickered, but something in his posture shifted, straightening just slightly. “…It’s bad news, isn’t it?”Byakuya inhaled, steady, controlled. “Your brother. He was found dead in his cell.”Amon didn’t move.The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy.For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, finally, he let out a slow breath. “…Poison?”Byakuya nodded once.Amon exhaled, closing his eyes briefly before glancing away. “Figured.”There was something wrong about how calm he sounded.Byakuya expected anger. Expected denial. Instead, Amon just let out a small, humorless chuckle. “So, that’s how it is, huh?” He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ground with an unreadable expression. “Guess I should’ve seen it coming.”Byakuya studied him carefully. “You do not seem surprised.”Amon shrugged, still not looking at him. “He was mixed up in bad things for a while now. I told myself it was just a phase, that he’d grow out of it.” A pause. A slow, weary exhale. “Maybe I just didn’t want to deal with it.”Byakuya remained silent.“…You did what you had to do.” Amon finally looked at him, his usual easy-going expression carefully in place. “And now, at least, I know what happened to him.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “If you hadn’t caught him, I might’ve never known at all.”Byakuya understood what he was saying. He had given Amon closure. A fate known was better than a fate left uncertain. And yet, beneath that forced smile, Byakuya could see it—the blame that Amon wasn’t speaking aloud.He was blaming himself.Byakuya felt an unfamiliar weight settle in his chest. There were no words that could erase that guilt, no comfort he could offer that wouldn’t ring hollow. Instead, he simply said, “Your brother’s case was handled according to the law. But if there was corruption involved—if someone ensured his silence—justice has yet to be served.”Amon let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Justice, huh?” He looked down at his hands, flexing them slightly. “You ever wonder if we’re on the right side of it?”Byakuya met his gaze, unwavering. “The law is not perfect. But if we do not uphold it, who will?”Amon was silent for a long moment. Then, he exhaled through his nose and gave a small nod. “…Yeah.”There was something different in his gaze now—something sharper, more resolute. A decision forming, solidifying.That was the day Amon made up his mind.The day his loyalty to Byakuya—and to the Sixth Division—was truly forged.

The black and white of the world

The wedding was a spectacle of elegance, befitting the heir of the Kuchiki clan. Lanterns cast their gentle glow over the manor, illuminating the delicate sakura blossoms that framed the celebration. Byakuya, always composed, carried himself with his usual poise, but Amon saw the rare flickers of nervousness in his friend’s expression. Hisana stood beside him, a vision of quiet grace, her eyes filled with warmth that softened the edges of Byakuya’s rigid demeanor.Amon had been everywhere that day—helping coordinate, keeping watch, teasing Byakuya mercilessly, much to Hisana’s amusement. He had made a game of seeing how much he could make her giggle behind her sleeve, exaggerating Byakuya’s serious nature with playful jabs.“You’ve got a lifetime with him,” Amon had mused to her. “Better get used to that scowl.”Hisana had laughed, pressing a delicate hand to her lips. “I happen to like that scowl.”Amon grinned, glancing at Byakuya, who pretended not to hear but whose ears had turned suspiciously red. That was the last time he remembered seeing Byakuya so lighthearted, so quietly content.It was a blessing.
As short as five years.Hisana was gone.The manor became a graveyard of silence. The weight of loss draped over it like an unbearable fog, pressing into every corner, suffocating, inescapable. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, yet no amount of burning offerings could rid the place of the hollow emptiness Hisana’s absence left behind.Byakuya did not weep. Not in public. Not in private. It was as if grief had stolen something even more essential than his tears—it had stolen his will to feel anything at all. He functioned, he moved, he existed. But he did not live.Amon watched as Byakuya shut the world out, piece by piece. First, the warmth disappeared from his voice, then from his eyes. Then, he stopped speaking unless duty demanded it. Then, he stopped acknowledging those around him. The man who had once opened his heart to a woman beyond his station, who had defied the rigid expectations of his clan for love, had now become a ghost of himself.Amon refused to leave.Everyone else had retreated, giving Byakuya the space they assumed he wanted, but Amon knew better. Space was not what he needed—Byakuya needed an anchor, someone who would remain, even when he turned away, even when he had nothing left to say. So Amon stayed.He sat outside Byakuya’s room every evening, sometimes for hours, sometimes until dawn. He left food outside the door that went untouched. He spoke into the silence, even when there was no response, even when he was met with nothing but the sound of his own breath.Some nights, Amon could hear the faintest sounds—never sobs, never outright cries, but the shallow, uneven breaths of someone barely holding themselves together.Then one night, the door opened.It was the first time Byakuya had acknowledged him in weeks. He stood there, silent, his face a mask of exhaustion and something deeper—something so broken that Amon felt his chest tighten at the sight of it.Byakuya didn’t speak, didn’t make eye contact, but his hand wavered at his side, hesitating, before it finally reached out.Amon took it without a second thought.Byakuya’s fingers were ice-cold, trembling so subtly that it would have been imperceptible to anyone else. Amon simply held on, firm and steady, grounding him in the present, in something tangible.The moment stretched, the silence so thick it nearly choked the room. And then, barely above a whisper, Byakuya exhaled his first words in what felt like an eternity.“I can’t see the colors anymore.”It was a confession so raw, so stripped of everything Byakuya once was, that it nearly brought Amon to his knees.Amon said nothing—what was there to say to a man who had lost the one person who had painted his world in warmth? So instead, he squeezed Byakuya’s hand just a little tighter, refusing to let go, refusing to let him drown in the dark.And for the first time since Hisana’s passing, Byakuya didn’t pull away.

There was, a blossom

The night air was cold, but not as cold as the silence in the Kuchiki manor. Rukia sat on the engawa, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly at the garden. The moonlight bathed her small frame in pale silver, her expression unreadable, but the loneliness in her eyes betrayed her."You’ll catch a cold like that," Amon’s voice broke the quiet. He stepped onto the engawa with a graceful ease, his presence familiar but never intrusive.Rukia looked up, startled, but quickly schooled her expression back to indifference. "I’m fine."Amon scoffed as he crouched beside her, resting his arms on his knees. "You’re a terrible liar."Rukia didn’t respond. She simply stared ahead, as if the answer she was looking for could be found in the garden’s swaying branches. Amon followed her gaze for a moment before sighing."You think he hates you."Her fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeves, and her lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t answer, but she didn’t need to. Amon already knew."He doesn’t," Amon continued, his voice softer now. "If anything, he’s terrible at showing what he really feels. But hating you? That’s the furthest thing from the truth."Rukia swallowed, her throat tight. "Then why does he never look at me? Why does he keep me at arm’s length? I’m supposed to be his sister, but I feel like nothing more than a stranger in this house."Amon sighed and leaned back on his hands, gazing up at the night sky. "Because he’s an idiot."That, at least, got a reaction. Rukia blinked at him, surprised."Don’t get me wrong, he’s a brilliant man, but he’s an idiot when it comes to himself," Amon said with a smirk. "You should see the look on his face when I tell him about your shenanigans. It’s the closest thing to amusement you’ll ever get out of him."Rukia’s brows furrowed. "You talk about me to him?""All the time. You’d be surprised how much he listens."She stared at him, disbelief warring with something close to hope. Amon simply grinned and stretched his arms."Just give him time. He’s slow with these things. Stubborn, too. But you?" He glanced at her. "You’re already a part of this family, whether he’s good at showing it or not."Rukia swallowed down the lump in her throat, nodding slowly. She wasn’t sure if she fully believed Amon’s words yet, but for the first time since she had been adopted into the Kuchiki clan, she didn’t feel quite so alone.---Later that evening, Amon found Byakuya in his study, as he always did, buried in paperwork."Do you ever stop working? At this rate, I’ll start calling you a machine rather than a noble."Byakuya didn’t look up from his documents. "If you have no purpose being here, leave."Amon smirked, unbothered. "Well, if that’s how you’re going to be, I guess you don’t want to hear about how Rukia tried to pick a fight with some low-rank officers in the training grounds."That made Byakuya pause, just slightly. Amon noticed."Yeah, she got all huffy because they underestimated her. Pretty funny, honestly. Reminds me of a certain someone from years ago—some brat who couldn’t decide on a golden dragon or a silver phoenix decoration."Byakuya exhaled sharply through his nose. Amon swore he saw the tiniest quirk of his lips, a ghost of a smile that disappeared as quickly as it came.Amon grinned. "You’re soft, you know that?"Byakuya resumed his work, this time with the smallest, almost imperceptible shift in his posture—a touch lighter, a breath less heavy.