His Flower Shop
Byakuya x Orihime
---
Byakuya's vision blurred as he stared at the casket before him.
He didn't believe.
He couldn't believe it.
She was gone.
Hisana was gone.
Forever.
Hisana was dead.
---
That had been seven years ago. For some peculiar (or perhaps not) reason, he hadn't been able to let go. He was true to Hisana—but, perhaps, to a fault.
He refused to let himself love again.
That was why when a woman, who came a year after Hisana's death, entered his life, he didn't expect or understand the openness she had and found himself caught completely off guard.
---
"Orihime... are you sure you want to take a position in our shop?"
To the smaller girl, the other, Orihime, answered in a relentlessly chipper tone, "Yes, I'm absolutely sure, Rukia."
The girl, Rukia, cringed, knowing that Orihime wasn't aware of what she was getting herself into. Her brother, though she knew why and loved him very much despite it all, was notoriously cruel, explaining why they had lost many of their employees and why they had so few job applications.
She was afraid that the cheerful, ridiculously optimistic Orihime would not last a day.
Then again, her infectious smile might have been good for her brother.
So, to the blissfully aware Orihime, she said, with a rather resigned sigh, "Alright. You're hired, then."
Orihime beamed.
---
Byakuya crouched next to the potted plants that lined the wall, watering them with a pale green watering can.
He felt a soft tap on his shoulder and immediately turned around.
There stood a girl with bright orange hair (quite peculiar, if it was natural).
"Can I help you?" he asked, disgruntled.
She smiled anyway.
"I'm supposed to start working here as of today. It's very nice to meet you!" she said excitedly.
He eyed her quickly, frowning.
"Ms. Inoue, I take it?" His tone was anything but friendly.
She only nodded.
Her obliviousness bothered him but he said nothing.
Byakuya stood up, brushing himself off. He stood to his full height, about half a head taller she was, with a stony grimace on his face.
"There's an apron in the back room," he stated briskly, "You'll need it."
She smiled, bowing and thanking him, and then ran off towards where the back room was.
In truth, it was a very small flower shop so it wasn't very hard to spot.
Byakuya, still standing, turned to the watering can again, focusing on something entirely different.
He had a new employee. That meant that he had to do less work. However, that didn't mean that he would scare her away first before she actually knew what she was doing. And, by the look of it, she seemed the type to take a very, very long time to learn. In fact, she might even have been the type that was completely and utterly useless. He wouldn't put it past her.
That was the type of person Byakuya was. He analyzed and profiled. It wasn't that hard, honestly, with people that obviously incapable.
It made him wonder, though, why he even bothered thinking about these things.
The girl would probably only be here for a week—a month, at most.
---
When the shop opened that day, Orihime had immediately charmed everyone. Her easy smile and childishness was warm and welcoming. They had more customers in that one morning than they had had in an entire month.
Byakuya was thankful for the business but, truthfully, the workload had lightened none. The girl was useless, as he had first thought.
She couldn't tell daisies from chrysanthemums.
The entire time, he had been running back and forth between the counter and the customers at every call of "Mr. Kuchiki". He was beginning to wonder why Rukia had chosen her.
He swore to have a good talk with his sister, seriously beginning to doubt her judgement.
---
The dinner that night was quiet. Rukia was tense as she picked at her rice with her chopsticks.
Finally, she broke the silence, asking him, "How was Orihime today?"
Byakuya didn't answer at first, as though pondering—trying to find wording that wasn't too hurtful.
"Useless,"
That was the first word out of his mouth. It was strong and definite.
Rukia winced. That was never a good sign.
Byakuya continued, "The girl didn't know what irises were. She thought tulips looked good with cosmos—they don't. It's like she's lacking the parts of her brain that control aesthetic sense, common sense, and memory."
That was far worse.
It was even worse that he hadn't even bothered to use her name or address her properly.
Rukia waved a hand as dismissively as she could, setting her chopsticks down on the rim of her bowl. "I know that she's a bit," she hesitated slightly; it was her turn to find the right wording, "out of it."
A grave look from Byakuya told her that that was far from and understatement.
She hastily continued, "But, I'm sure that if you… give her time, she'll learn the ropes. Besides, people are naturally attracted to her. I'm sure you had good business."
Byakuya's gaze was immediately averted to his food, confirming her previous statement. Finally, she had a point for herself.
"You see!" she exclaimed, far more confident now, "It's going to be fine."
Somehow, Byakuya wasn't reassured at all.
---
The next few days were anything but fine.
The girls memory was horrible.
How she could confuse sunflowers with dandelions was beyond him. To make matters worse, she had gone so far as to tell a customer that "Yes, we sell dandelions here", earning herself a rather disturbed look from said customer.
All in all, she was all but grating at his nerves.
He told himself to bear it, though. Eventually, she would grow terrified of him and all this madness would finally come to an end.
---
But, to his great dismay, it didn't.
It had been a month and, yet, the girl, Orihime, persevered and succeeded in being the worst employee he had ever had. Her only redeeming qualities, it seemed, were her genuineness and her eagerness to please.
It was the first time in a long time that he had ever truly considered firing someone.
---
It was a good three months before the two of them talked properly.
It had was the day that the shop was closed and they had accidentally met at a park.
It was Orihime who had spotted Byakuya because, truthfully, even if Byakuya had spotted her, he would have made no effort to greet her, finding it tedious and pointless.
"Mr. Kuchiki!" she called out ecstatically, running to him.
He stopped in his steps, immediately recognizing her voice. His head turned slowly and he was not in the least bit please with what he saw. Regardless, he was as formal as ever. "Good afternoon, Ms. Inoue," he murmured, all but muttering to himself about how this was wasting him time.
"How are you doing?" she asked, smiling despite the weather. She had no umbrella and the rain was pouring.
Clearly, she had been in a rush to get... somewhere, but had stopped to greet him. He had to ask himself why she had even bothered.
He made a concise gesture for her to get under his umbrella. She had accepted gratefully, of course.
"Where are you going?" she asked out of sheer curiosity.
His facial expression was quickly marred with an unappreciative frown. "It's nowhere important," he supplied quickly.
She gave a soft chuckle. "You don't need to lie, Mr. Kuchiki. It must be if you're bringing roses." She held out her hand with no real purpose but as a visual aid to her verbal offer. "Since I haven't got anywhere else to be," He was sure that that was as true as his reply had been. "I'll accompany you."
The odd thing was that he had allowed her to go with him.
Byakuya had been on his way to visit Hisana's grave.
---
It had taken Orihime about five minutes to recognize the way to the cemetery. To some extent, Byakuya could tell that she had been heading in this general direction as well—if not to the cemetery too.
He raised a brow in intrigue but didn't comment. It wasn't something you questioned because, really, it only meant one thing.
He, with Orihime in tow, headed to Hisana's grave. He knew the exact place: forty-sixth on the seventy-second row. It was a simple gravestone with her name, Kuchiki, Hisana, date of death, September 4, 1999, and years, 1979 – 1999, on it—she hadn't lived long.
Byakuya saw tears forming in Orihime's eyes. Or, perhaps, he was wrong; it could've been the rain because, now, Orihime was kneeling before the gravestone, out of range of the umbrella's shelter, dripping wet, her skirt soaking up mud, if not rainwater.
It was Orihime who spoke first, seeming to break the reverent moment.
"It must be painful," she murmured, her voice a bare whisper. She turned to him; this time, he was sure she was crying. Her eyes were brimming with tears, some falling. "It's painful when you lose someone you love."
Byakuya gave a stiff nod.
He knew that she understood.
After all, she had been headed to the cemetery as well.
He didn't ask her to take him to the grave of her loved one.
---
The next weeks were somewhat quieter. They had the usual flurry of customers, of course, but Orihime's smile, Byakuya noticed, was dimmer, her movements less brash (though one could say that that wasn't necessarily a bad thing), and she no longer constantly harassed him for help identifying flowers and other such plant species.
To some extent, it bothered him.
He almost found himself missing the usual cheer she had brought to the small flower shop.
It made him wonder what could possibly be wrong.
Perhaps, it had been their visit to the cemetery.
---
It had been at least a week before he finally found it in himself to confront Orihime about this problem.
His frown that seemed to be ever-present had vanished and was quickly replaced with a grim expression of distaste.
Whatever it was that had gone wrong, he was determined to find it out. He didn't like leaving things as they were.
From experience, it never turned out well.
That morning, about a half hour before they opened the shop up to customers, Orihime arrived. Byakuya knew that to be her usual arrival time. It was now a routine of sorts.
Byakuya, true to his nature, had asked bluntly, "What's wrong?"
It had surprised Orihime. She had even stumbled backwards a few steps.
"Excuse me, Mr. Kuchiki?"
"Byakuya," he corrected sharply, in clear agitation. He hated being addressed formally when it was unnecessary.
His gaze had only grown fiercer with that simple question. He didn't like this. So, he elaborated, "You've been upset lately. What's been bothering you?" And, to cover up his tracks, he added, "I can't have you ruining business because you're unhappy."
She gave a nervous laugh. "Nothing's wrong, really." She did her best to try and reassure him. However, he wasn't one to be easily deceived and was deterred none.
"Be truthful,"
It wasn't a suggestion, anyone could be sure, if his tone didn't already concrete even the slightest suspicions.
"I..." She, for once, was at a loss for words. "I feel bad."
"Why?"
"I shouldn't have asked to come along with you," she all but whimpered, closing her eyes. "It was terribly insensitive of me. I shouldn't have done it. You would've wanted to go alone, wouldn't you?"
He stared at her blankly. Had that really been it?
That had been over a week ago.
"It's fine," he said, as if dismissing her worry, "That was a week ago."
A week ago, he thought he had found someone who truly understood.
A week ago, he thought he thought he would love again.
"Really?" she asked him meekly.
Byakuya's solemn expression dispersed like the tension from earlier. He cracked a half-smile, offering it weakly.
A wide grin broke across her face.
"I'm glad," she told him, "I was afraid you'd be angry at me."
Without another word on the topic, Byakuya swiftly changed the subject. "Let's open shop already. I suspect there are people waiting."
"Of course," she had replied, rushing out of the room to unlock the front door.
As he stepped out of the back room, he watched as she flipped the sign from "Closed" to "Open", welcoming customers.
She had brought the life back to this flower shop—his flower shop; Hisana's flower shop.
Perhaps the shop had room for this crazy, ditsy, darling girl as well.
---
Author's Note:
At this point in the competition, I got really into the story. Or, perhaps, it was just the pairing. I knew them both well enough, I suppose, so it was easier for me to write for them.
I apologize for the late post. Apparently, my router crashed yesterday—at least, that's what my mom thought. Turns out that it's fine and the internet was just being a bum yesterday.
Surprisingly, this is one of my more pleasant works. Maybe it's because of the plot. I really don't know. All I know is that the story turned out much nicer than I had anticipated.
As far as other things go, I won't be continuing (as in updating) Mon Espoir (yes, I do mention this story everywhere and, if you don't know it, then go read it... ah, self-advertisement...) until my birthday. Why, you might ask? Well, I'm working on a seven-chapter story called Seven Days (Can anyone say irony?) and trying to finish it all for Lin's birthday (Dec. 9) because it's a gift for her. So, until my birthday (Dec. 11), I probably won't be updating it. I do, however, assure you that, once this seven-chapter project is out of the way and posted, I'll be continuing at... whatever the pace for Mon Espoir is as of now and, hopefully, faster. After all, I've cleared up a significant amount of my schedule.
Until then.