Laura (: (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} deidaras_gurl) wrote in ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} bya_ren,@ 2007-06-06 22:59:00 |
|
fic
Yay! I've finally translated Morgothine's http://community.livejournal.com/bya_re
Title: Immersed
Author: Morgothine
Translated by: Deidaras-Girl
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Byakuya/Renji
Rating: PG
Word Count: 914
“Taichou!”
Renji stopped what he was in the midst of doing. Empty. The office. Not a single trace of his captain. In one disoriented instant, the fukutaichou of the 6th division slowly entered the carefully furnished room that was as sober and elegant as its usual occupant. It was rare for Byakuya to leave without telling his subordinate, but could Renji decipher his captain’s attitude yet? He went to place the documents he had in his hand onto the imposing desk when something caught his eye. He approached and hesitated for an instant before taking the large, delicately adorned book that seemed to have been abandoned under a large pile of documents, half hidden and half revealed.
The cover of the book under his fingers was astonishingly soft and silky, and the mixed impression of fragility and immutability undeniably reminded him of someone.
Almost with timidity, Renji opened the book to the first pages.
He had never seen anything like it. There was no doubt that the nobles possessed such documents. In any case, it must’ve been a pain to produce a book like this. When people come from Rukongai, they have no story, and the one that they inevitably accumulate is one that they wish to forget.
He was hypnotized for several seconds by the portrait that spread out in front of his eyes. Apparently, the inauspicious tendency to not show any expression apart from a stoic face ran often enough in the noble Kuchiki family. On dozens of pages Renji the severe faces, faces that he’d never seen before, but wore the same mark of prestige, an unattainable perfection.
Renji began to the turn the pages more and more rapidly and he was about to close the book when a stare stopped him. It was a look that he knew too well. Even on the picture, Byakuya didn’t appear more than ten years old, his expression claiming his future position without equivocation.
Several other portraits of the actual head of the clan unreeled, surrounded or not by members of those who were obliged to be called “family”, and Renji smiled gently; even if it was from afar, partially and lightly, he let himself lift the somber veil that adorned the life of his captain.
A blank page surprised him in his trek and without really thinking, he turned it. And he froze. This face… This one, he’d never seen it before. Or maybe, maybe deep down in a dream that he hadn’t remembered the next morning, and that left him with an empty feeling, he’d seen it.
This time he hesitated before continuing, but he knew without doubt that he’d never have this chance. This gentleness, he’d never known it. The person that he stared at in front of him… who was he? He had no idea. But in the back of his mind, he had no doubts about who it was. Byakuya. With a smile.
On each of the following pages, he crossed the same expression again and again, and it left him with a strange feeling of heat and bitterness at the back of his throat. The heat from the fact that he was finally able to see, almost in real life, the expression that he cherished so much already, and the bitterness from the knowledge that the expression would never be for him.
He passed by an image of Hisana and let out a soft laugh. If Rukia could see this… She would know in an instant, like him, that her brother had really loved her.
He moved his hand to turn the last page.
“Renji.”
Renji jumped violently.
“Tai-taichou!! I… Uh… You… Well…”
“What are you doing here, Renji?”
“I… I just came… uh…”
Byakuya raised his eyebrow lightly and waited.
“I had some documents to give you… But… You see… Here.”
“And I can see that you were taking your time to interest yourself in the history of the Kuchiki family.”
Renji felt his cheeks heat up and he lowered his eyes.
“I… Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?”
“Only… Only your history, Taichou.”
The surprised expression that passed over the captain of the sixth division’s face disappeared rapidly, and when Renji was finally able to lift his eyes he only saw the eternal mask engraved within the porcelain flesh with the shadow of sadness that veiled the stare.
“I’ll… I’ll do my best to leave you alone, Taichou.”
Renji slowly turned around to put the precious book on his captain’s desk, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. He froze.
“Renji.”
“Taichou?”
“Does my history interest you?”
“I…”
Renji turned to face his captain once again, but his answer was lost in the heat of the soft breath that caressed his ear, in the softness of the hand that slid along his arm.
“So why don’t you…”
Renji was unable to move.
“…help me to write a new page?”
Renji didn’t have the time to answer, to even imagine an answer. And even if he was able to find an adequate response, he wouldn’t have time to get it together. Byakuya’s lips captured his own, and the book slid from his hands.
He paid almost no attention to the quiet sound that the book made as it hit the ground, nor the photo that slid from its last pages.
But even if he had looked at it, he would see almost nothing apart from red.
And without doubt, the image would undeniably remind him of someone.
Yay! I've finally translated Morgothine's http://community.livejournal.com/bya_re
Title: Immersed
Author: Morgothine
Translated by: Deidaras-Girl
Fandom: Bleach
Pairing: Byakuya/Renji
Rating: PG
Word Count: 914
“Taichou!”
Renji stopped what he was in the midst of doing. Empty. The office. Not a single trace of his captain. In one disoriented instant, the fukutaichou of the 6th division slowly entered the carefully furnished room that was as sober and elegant as its usual occupant. It was rare for Byakuya to leave without telling his subordinate, but could Renji decipher his captain’s attitude yet? He went to place the documents he had in his hand onto the imposing desk when something caught his eye. He approached and hesitated for an instant before taking the large, delicately adorned book that seemed to have been abandoned under a large pile of documents, half hidden and half revealed.
The cover of the book under his fingers was astonishingly soft and silky, and the mixed impression of fragility and immutability undeniably reminded him of someone.
Almost with timidity, Renji opened the book to the first pages.
He had never seen anything like it. There was no doubt that the nobles possessed such documents. In any case, it must’ve been a pain to produce a book like this. When people come from Rukongai, they have no story, and the one that they inevitably accumulate is one that they wish to forget.
He was hypnotized for several seconds by the portrait that spread out in front of his eyes. Apparently, the inauspicious tendency to not show any expression apart from a stoic face ran often enough in the noble Kuchiki family. On dozens of pages Renji the severe faces, faces that he’d never seen before, but wore the same mark of prestige, an unattainable perfection.
Renji began to the turn the pages more and more rapidly and he was about to close the book when a stare stopped him. It was a look that he knew too well. Even on the picture, Byakuya didn’t appear more than ten years old, his expression claiming his future position without equivocation.
Several other portraits of the actual head of the clan unreeled, surrounded or not by members of those who were obliged to be called “family”, and Renji smiled gently; even if it was from afar, partially and lightly, he let himself lift the somber veil that adorned the life of his captain.
A blank page surprised him in his trek and without really thinking, he turned it. And he froze. This face… This one, he’d never seen it before. Or maybe, maybe deep down in a dream that he hadn’t remembered the next morning, and that left him with an empty feeling, he’d seen it.
This time he hesitated before continuing, but he knew without doubt that he’d never have this chance. This gentleness, he’d never known it. The person that he stared at in front of him… who was he? He had no idea. But in the back of his mind, he had no doubts about who it was. Byakuya. With a smile.
On each of the following pages, he crossed the same expression again and again, and it left him with a strange feeling of heat and bitterness at the back of his throat. The heat from the fact that he was finally able to see, almost in real life, the expression that he cherished so much already, and the bitterness from the knowledge that the expression would never be for him.
He passed by an image of Hisana and let out a soft laugh. If Rukia could see this… She would know in an instant, like him, that her brother had really loved her.
He moved his hand to turn the last page.
“Renji.”
Renji jumped violently.
“Tai-taichou!! I… Uh… You… Well…”
“What are you doing here, Renji?”
“I… I just came… uh…”
Byakuya raised his eyebrow lightly and waited.
“I had some documents to give you… But… You see… Here.”
“And I can see that you were taking your time to interest yourself in the history of the Kuchiki family.”
Renji felt his cheeks heat up and he lowered his eyes.
“I… Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?”
“Only… Only your history, Taichou.”
The surprised expression that passed over the captain of the sixth division’s face disappeared rapidly, and when Renji was finally able to lift his eyes he only saw the eternal mask engraved within the porcelain flesh with the shadow of sadness that veiled the stare.
“I’ll… I’ll do my best to leave you alone, Taichou.”
Renji slowly turned around to put the precious book on his captain’s desk, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. He froze.
“Renji.”
“Taichou?”
“Does my history interest you?”
“I…”
Renji turned to face his captain once again, but his answer was lost in the heat of the soft breath that caressed his ear, in the softness of the hand that slid along his arm.
“So why don’t you…”
Renji was unable to move.
“…help me to write a new page?”
Renji didn’t have the time to answer, to even imagine an answer. And even if he was able to find an adequate response, he wouldn’t have time to get it together. Byakuya’s lips captured his own, and the book slid from his hands.
He paid almost no attention to the quiet sound that the book made as it hit the ground, nor the photo that slid from its last pages.
But even if he had looked at it, he would see almost nothing apart from red.
And without doubt, the image would undeniably remind him of someone.
