Characters: Byakuya, Hisana
Summary: He doesn't know what to say around her.
Pairings: ByaHisa
Warnings/Spoilers: spoilers for Soul Society arc
Timeline: pre-manga
Author's Note: This can be considered a spiritual successor to Not Really Lost, since it mentions the events of that oneshot.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
The bell shivers in a silver ring as the door presses open and Hisana can hear footsteps, neither heavy nor light, as a customer steps into the store where she works.
It's probably Sayoko-san back for her yukata; the store where Hisana works doubles as a tailor's shop and a floristry. It hasn't been very busy lately; personally, Hisana is inclined to blame the summer weather, the heat and the humidity of which has been keeping the residents of Rukongai in their homes.
"Hello, Sayoko…"
Hisana turns around, and sees that it's not Sayoko at all. Her face flushes a dull shade of red, and she dips a deep bow, avoiding the gaze of the newcomer.
"Good afternoon, Byakuya-sama."
-0-
Byakuya feels that same hint of trepidation as always when he steps into the shop, one foot over the threshold and the other just a little hesitant to make the final journey. There's always the thought in the back of his mind, that maybe this isn't a good idea, but being young and brash and in love erases all reservations, and he crosses the distance quickly.
He still feels coltishly awkward around her, though.
Byakuya met Hisana a year ago much further out in Rukongai. He was lost; she led him back to the interior. When they met, she was thin to the point of emaciation, dressed in ragged clothes. Now, Hisana is much better-fed, living above the shop she works at with her employers and the other employee, but is still very slight and slender, the bones jutting from her wrists. Her plain linen yukatas (Byakuya has figured out from observation that there are exactly three of them, unless there are some being saved for special occasions) are old but clean and intact.
And she herself is as sweetly lovely as ever.
And, he is just a little discouraged to see, just as shy and deferent.
When Hisana turns and sees him, she immediately averts her eyes and stares at the ground, bowing deeply. "Good afternoon, Byakuya-sama." The high color in her cheeks could, Byakuya reflects, mean any number of things.
He nods himself, standing in the doorway now, feeling again as though maybe he should just leave. "Hisana." Byakuya can't keep his voice from changing note ever so slightly at the enunciation of her name; his eyes burn holes into the top of her head.
They are silent, Byakuya staring at her and Hisana keeping her violet eyes firmly on the ground, smiling wistfully and plainly searching through for words, trying not to bolt at his presence.
When her eyes flick slightly, just slightly, to look at his face, Byakuya is the one who feels his skin burn.
Finally, Hisana manages to get her throat unknotted and speaks softly, stepping towards the display of flowers. "I'm sorry, Byakuya-sama, were you here for more flower arrangements for the Kuchiki estate?"
That's not why he's here and they both know it, but Hisana is content to pretend as though this is the only reason he could possibly be here. For flowers. Not to see her. For flowers, even though he could just as easily (and it would be much more appropriate) to send a servant for flowers for his estate.
Byakuya is just a little surprised at this, before nodding, happy to take any excuse to talk to her, to have him look at her.
Hisana is perfectly cheerful and cordial in her role as the employee of a shop a customer has just arrived in, happy to be relieved of the role she had occupied previously, smiling brightly as she pointed out different species of flowers.
When, fifteen surprisingly happy minutes later Byakuya is sent out holding a bunch of lilacs to his chest and inhaling the sweet scent, he regrets slightly that every day they are together for even a short time must go in such awkward, uncomfortable ways.
He honestly doesn't know what to say around Hisana.
And until Byakuya is able to find what to say, he will be happy to keep up the pretense of just being there for flowers and silks.
The beauty of her, inside and out, is so intoxicating that he is lost for words, whenever within her presence.