Summary: Brief insights into the lives of Byakuya and Yoruichi, and how they come together.
If snow had a sound, surely that would be it.
Yoruichi almost forgot that Byakuya could play the flute – a hobby he took up as an adolescent. An edge of permafrost kissed the grass before her, the cold barely held at bay by the heavy haori she wore. Snowflakes fell prettily on the trees and rooftops, making everything glow a fragile, beautiful white. Spears of ice hung from every available surface, tree branches, the bridge on which he stood, and she was sure there would be ice on the flute he played, too, if he were a statue.
The woman let out a breath of air and closed her eyes. This was the first time he’d taken the instrument out in one-hundred years, as she’d been told. And what a shame that was.