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on Byakuya
He has watched her die once already. This time he prepares himself carefully beforehand, as he has not the luxury, afforded to him the first time by the nature of Hisana's illness, of private discomposure after the fact.
on last wishes
Despite his surprising alertness after being wounded, Byakuya's condition quickly worsened as infection set in. His face grew hot and his eyes lost their sharpness as he lay, breathing shallowly, on the hospital bed. Rukia came to visit him. He stirred as she sat down next to the bed. "Hisana...?" he said, faintly, and she froze. "...she's safe. I protected her." They didn't know whether he'd make it. "Yes," Rukia said, and kissed his fever-dry lips.
on Hisana
What was she like? Rukia asks. Byakuya traces the soft skin of her arm, from the inside of her wrist to her elbow. She had skin as pale as the moon, he says. The moon? she echoes. Her hair was blacker than a butterfly's wing, he says, tucking a strand behind her ear. Her eyes were fathomless pools. She had the most enchanting birthmark--just here, he says, kissing that unblemished spot. Rukia trembles under his touch. Tell me, she pleads. Tell me all about her. The truest things cannot be contained in words, he says; and, instead, shows her.
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