Keeping Up With The Kuchikis

The Roar Of Cowards

"Send them away?" Mito-sama was incredulous, as if she had misheard the words from Kalon; it was too simple a suggestion. "Young Kalon," the older lady began, disapproval painting her tone, "have I misjudged you? Do you not believe that everyone here works in concert to do just that? Had it been that easy a task, this augusted body," she indicated her fellow elders and Byakuya as well with a sweep of her hand, her voice maintaining a balanced flow like honey and a harsh reproval, "would not need to meet to contrive and execute a plan to deal with this disgraceful crisis that shames us all."

It was meaningless to make a point to the elder body, especially to Elder Mito-Sama. In all her centuries, Kalon would bet his finest horse that the woman has never taken 'No' for an answer or conceded an opinion in conjuncture to her own, not without raging a verbal war first. So he said nothing in response to the barrage of dagger-like questions thrown at him from the elder lady; it would only have induced a roundabout argument, something unhelpful at the moment. Though his sharp green eyes took in the older woman's measure, bearing the scorn of her judgment that turned his bowels to water, the real target of his green gaze was Byakuya.

Perhaps it was anger that caused him to do it; maybe it was some unknown emotion he couldn't identify—a mixture of emotions even, he did try to avoid experiencing them through his spirit often and only affected an outward appearance of pantomiming them in the appropriate settings—that brought his actions to their next conclusive response, but not as a reply to elder Mito's scornful steely questions.

There were other scorns in the room, of course, pointing their arrows at him. The easy target that made the political mistake of uttering his option in the hearing range of older and wiser men. The singularity daring to stand under the hammer.

Such a fool. Kalon could read the mockery on their faces behind their snares and glares. But he couldn't stand it anymore, ironically enough, since he was currently sitting.

His cousin and lord was leaning against the desk, loaded to its edges with letters from the evil female mob outside. And as their eyes met over the short distance, with Kalon still on the tatami mats sitting in a pool of his blood, Isamu's mangled hands were just redressing, and adjusting their gloved garments; having completed the healing arts, Byakuya stared him down.

This was the part in their silent interaction where Kalon was supposed to look away out of deference and lower his eyes out of respect. A submissive demeanor is expected here to the embodiment of power leaning its swordman's frame against the oak desk, all 5 feet, 9 inches of it. The gray, stormy gaze beats back the emerald forest. The tempest winds batter the leaves, forcing their heads down with one blow of its mighty breath. This force is kingly. It is absolute. It is incontestable, and Byakuya Kuchiki was born with an abundance of it.

Kalon hated to admit it, but his cousin had a dominating presence that he could only pray to the heavens for in his moments of weakness. No one can meet Byakuya Kuchiki and not agree that the man is intimidating to a fault. It is a fact of nature engrained onto one's very soul the instant you come into contact with his presence, and for a long time, Kalon refused to acknowledge this. Not only because he is older by a century and a half, but it's demeaning to the essence of his pride, especially in Seireitei society. Age comes with strength as a soul matures, and wisdom is expected. Then here comes this powerhouse on two skinny legs, born to be better than you in every factor of life that you've had to strive to be acknowledged for, ready to take your place and do so just by existing. How humiliating to utterly discredit another's existence and accomplishments like that, as if they never mattered to begin with.

For a long time, Kalon hated this little brat lording over him; he still does. His hatred for his father comes in at a close second. And by wallering in the pits of his hatred yet having to smile beguilingly in Byakuya's presence because he fears what this younger man would do to him should his innermost thoughts be brought to light, Kalon felt sick to his stomach watching the man he simultaneously deeply hates and respects hesitate in the face of this so-called crisis.