Past & Future

"Ukitake, it's perfect." Rukia said from inside the gallery.

The walls had been freshly painted an inviting tan color, and the vinyl floors redone. All of the new pieces had been hung up exactly as she'd wanted them to be, and the sculptures were arranged according to her notes. Rukia was completely ecstatic about this evening.

"I'm glad you like everything, Rukia," he replied. "But let's not forget you worked hard on this as well." He pat her on the back and smiled. Rukia stepped back to take another look around and nodded. She was glad to have such an excellent advisor like Ukitake around; he gave her great business advice and made sure she didn't do anything rash.

He was a friend of her brother in law, and the kindest person she knew, aside from her sister. He was also one of the most handsome men over the age of 40, ever, as a side note. Rukia grinned and clasped her hands together.

"So everything is set for tonight, great." She then lowered her voice. "And have you spoken to Mr. Ishida?"

Ukitake nodded, and pulled her to the side. "I have. He will be here an hour before opening with the painting. And you will be able to speak with him in person. He is very gracious and understanding from my grasp of his character, and also very adamant about keeping his clients identity a mystery."

Rukia sighed, but she understood; it was to be expected. Though she would have loved to actually meet XV—not to mention that it would be exceptional press for the gallery. "Yes, I see. Well that is not a problem. Will you be heading off now?"

"Yes, I must get back to my office, but I will be back later, and you have a wonderful time."

"Thank you so much, I will." Rukia replied, and she immediately went back to inspecting the gallery upon his departure. She was probably being a bit anal about things, but she wanted this to be perfect.

It was well into the late afternoon when she met with security. And to be completely honest, it wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience; but she did feel a bit sorry for anyone who tried to pull anything tonight. Mr. Kenpachi was…a character…a very, enthusiastic one. But he did his job well, so she held back any comments on his methods.

As production wrapped, Rukia turned to find Momo, her second in command. The woman was two years her junior and fresh out of college. She was likewise very intelligent, energetic, and made people feel comfortable, which was a must. She was also Kira's sometime-y, but now ex-girlfriend.

Momo was currently setting up a particularly delicate sculpture around the right side of the ground floor. She grinned upon seeing Rukia and held her hands out to show her work.

"Excellent, Momo. I think everything's ready now."

"That's great; I still have to pick up my dress out though." She said, walking with Rukia to the front doors.

"As do I." Rukia chuckled.

"Um…Rukia?" she began hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Is… Kira…is he?"

Rukia held her shoulder. "He'll be fine, Momo. Don't worry, ok."

She smiled weakly. "I guess I should have ended it sooner, I just didn't want to hurt him, you know."

"Kira's a trooper, he'll be alright. And so will you." She said. Momo nodded, and sniffled giving her a hug, before she turned to leave the building. Rukia smiled, and checked her watch again. She had to get over to the boutique for her dress, and be back in time for opening.

But as the last of the set-up crew was exiting, and she headed to the double glass doors, Rukia came face to face with a man she dreaded like the flu. He slipped through the partially open doors, and pranced right up to her with a camera around his neck, flashing his sadistic grin, while adjusting his white rimmed glasses.

"Why hello, Ms. Kuchiki." he said cheerfully.

Rukia held back a sneer. "Granz. What do you want?"

He flashed a media clearance badge. "Come now, you now the papers just have to cover this."

"Did they have to send you, of all things?"

He grinned even wider. "Well, I am the most informed reporter at Karakura Today," he replied, flicking his straitened pink hair around. "And tonight will be spectacular. I can see the headlines already: 'Young and Talented; Rukia Kuchiki celebrates a year of bliss. Amazing people, amazing paintings…' and speaking of which, I heard an interesting rumor just the other day that I hope you could clarify."

Rukia scowled and walked away from the infuriating man, unwilling to engage him in conversation. Szayel Aporro Granz was likely the most maniacal reporter in existence. He only cared about furthering his own career, no matter the cost of the story he published. And his stories were always front page news—regardless what the cost of publishing it would incur.

The lanky man followed her, and she spun on her heels glaring. "You've already been granted clearance, what else do you want?"

"A killer front page story," he deadpanned. "And I think that I'll have it once I find out the mysterious identity of the infamous XV."

Rukia titled her head. "You think I know who he is?"

"I'm fairly sure that you do not, but you are showing a new painting of his tonight, right?"

Rukia didn't answer.

"Exactly, so I'm sure I'll find some dirt. I always do."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Hm, I'm not sure yet. I mean, you'll make a killing for sure off his work, but," He paused and grinned again. "Your life is just so interesting, Ms. Kuchiki. I can't pass up the opportunity to chronicle the lovely things you do. People will eat it up, because they actually admire and like you. I don't really, but hey, you have to give the people what they want."

Rukia narrowed her eyes, giving the man her coldest glare. "I do not need a documentary on my life. And do not presume that you can go meddling into affairs that are none of your concern."

His face took on a look of mock surprise as he clapped his hands. "Brava, you pull off the Kuchiki glare quite expertly. However, a mere facial expression won't stop me from getting what I want. Just to let you know." He bowed to her then, and turned to walk back out of the gallery.

Rukia sighed, and held her head. She didn't want him at the anniversary, but they needed media at this event. And he was sure to bring press that the gallery could always use more of. She grit her teeth, and made her way to the front door.

Sometimes you had to give a little to get more of what you wanted.

Senna slowly counted backwards in her head from ten.

Ten…nine…eight…

"These sketches are horrible – and so is this godforsaken espresso! I ordered a double-shot nonfat latte, not this garbage! Get me another one, NOW!"

Seven…six…five…

"What in God's name is in that silly little head of yours? Did you honestly expect a millionaire's wife to where that? This is an art showing, not a circus. You should know better."

Four…three…two…

"Senna, are you listening to me? I expect you to work harder if you want to be more than an intern for the rest of your career."

One.

Senna's attention instantly returned to the outwardly gorgeous, but inwardly ugly as hell, woman in front of her.

Her boss.

Oh. Fucking. Joy.

Senna plastered a smile on her face, just barely managing to quell her temper before she exploded.

"Yes, Harribel. I'm sorry. I'll work harder next time. I'll fetch your replacement coffee immediately." Senna set down the large stack of editorials on her boss's desk more forcefully than necessary, and stalked out before the woman could say another word.

As Senna left the office, she ignored the jibes of the three little pigs—aka Harribel's bitches—directed towards her. She told herself that one day she'd be a sought after designer, and they'd lick the dirt off her shoes. If she let them, that is.

That thought appeased her anger for the time being.

Senna exited the building and quickly made her way to the closest Starbucks, went inside, and ordered the usual. It wasn't even her usual for god's sake. She didn't have one, since she didn't drink coffee in the first place.

Mumbling about her boss the entire time, Senna paid for the espresso and went over to sit at a table, crossing her fingers that she'd be able to leave work in time for Rukia's special night.

But with the way Harribel was bitching…

She sighed and started thinking of ways to make it up to her. She hated doing that. Especially since Rukia had always been there for her.

As she contemplated things to do for Rukia in case she didn't make it tonight, her thoughts ended up drifting to this morning and a certain tattooed, sexy male waiter.

Actually, she'd been thinking about him all day. Senna pulled out the little piece of paper with his number on it, fiddled with it for a moment, stuffed it back in her bag, only to pull it out again.

It wouldn't go anywhere.

Just mindless sex and a few kisses, if she was lucky. Though mindless sex sounded terrific right about now. Senna hauled herself up, took the coffee went it was set onto the pick-up area, and forced herself to walk back to work.

Maybe she wouldn't call him. She was stressed enough as it was. Perhaps it wasn't the best time—actually it definitely wasn't the best time for any lovin'. Everything was too crazy. She toyed with the piece of paper in her dress pocket and sighed. About a block from work, her cell rang.

It was Rukia.

She picked it up. "Hey, missy, how's everything?

"Fine, mostly. How are you?"

"Fine, mostly. Harribel's driving me nuts. Are you getting dressed now?"

"I was. Will you be able to leave in time?"

She bit down on her lip. "I don't know, Ruki. I just, I'm going to try hard as hell, but…"

"I understand Senna. And don't worry; you'll have the chance to make it up."

"I will?" She said, hopeful. "I promise I'll do anything."

"Well, you could lend me a dress?"

She wasn't sure that she heard correctly. "Rukia Kuchiki wants to wear one of my dresses?"

She laughed. "Yes, I do, and I'm eyeing this short black one. No straps, empire waist, and layered bottom. Can I wear it?"

Senna giggled with excitement. "What about the gown you were getting?"

"It… uh, ripped."

"Are you serious?!" She said laughing, crossing a street. "You ripped a gown that cost that much?"

"Hey, it was on accident. It caught in the door and…yeah."

"Ok, well the dress is finished. So take it."

"Thanks so much, Senna. And you know, when people ask me who made my dress, I'll make sure to drop your name a few times for good measure."

Senna's jaw dropped, "Rukia, you will? That would just be…great! You think people will like it?"

"Hell, I like it, so screw everyone else." She added with a giggle.

It's the least I can do. She thought. "Deal, then. I want to hear ALL the details about tonight too."

"Oh, you'll be listening until your ears fall off." Rukia laughed. Senna grinned, and held the phone away from her ear when she heard another beeping sound.

Harribel calling. Great.

"Alright Ruki, I have to go now, her highness is summoning me, but I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure thing. And try not to lose your temper again."

"I'll think about it. Laters."

"Chao."

End call.

Senna breathed in deep and walked proudly back into the tall building where she worked. Her best friend was wearing one of her designs to a big night in her life, and she couldn't be happier. That just completely made her early evening, so she felt reenergized to deal with any bitchiness that came her way.

She smiled all the way onto the elevator, not caring what people thought about the blissful expression on her face. As she pressed the button for the tenth floor, she stuck a hand in her pocket, and felt the small piece of paper again.

She thought of Shuuhei and smiled sadly.

Hopefully he could find a woman who'd give him everything he deserved. Because it wasn't her.

Ichigo flipped the washcloth over his right shoulder, as he cleaned off the tables. It was twenty till, and they closed at four, since the bistro was only opened for breakfast and lunch. Tatsuki was helping him in front, so they were getting things done quickly.

Above anything else though, he wanted to go home right now and paint.

He didn't know what the hell came over him, but after talking with Rukia Kuchiki this morning, he'd had the sudden urge to paint things. He didn't know what it was, just that there was something he need to express on canvas about the atmosphere around her.

She managed to easily soothe him into talking about himself without any effort. She was witty, yet still a bit reserved. He could tease and bait her without feeling awkward, although he probably crossed the line thirty seconds into their meeting.

And she loved art—that much he could see. Her career centered on supporting top-notch works of art, and she counted his among them. Sure, plenty other people did as well, he was XV after all, but it seemed to matter to him that she did. Ichigo slid into a seat, with a clear view of the front door, and considered going to the gallery later tonight. Ishida would be mad as hell, saying stuff about it being risky, but whatever.

He had to finish up here first and then call to check up on his sisters, as he always did. His family had up and gone on a sudden trip to some tourist hotspot, (that being his crazy father's random idea), so Ichigo wouldn't see them today after all.

As he sat there thinking about a certain pair of violet eyes that had the wheels of his muse turning circles in his head, the front door opened and a woman walked in.

He didn't look up at first, until he recognized the voice. He stiffened a little, but remained unmoving in his seat. Tatsuki had rushed over to the woman, giving Ichigo a nervous side glance.

She spoke in a hushed tone with the orange haired beauty, but the woman just held one of Tatsuki's hands briefly, before walking over to where he sat.

Ichigo had since lowered his brown eyes to the table and kept them there, as the woman slipped into the seat across from him. She was sitting in the same place Rukia had been in earlier.

But they were radically different women.

Neither spoke for a minute, before she began. "Kurosaki-kun."

She reached out to touch his hands, but he pulled them away and back closer to his body.

"Inoue." He said simply.

There was more silence before she continued. "Have you…changed your mind?"

Ichigo looked up at her then. She was beautiful as always—just not meant for him. He reached out and touched her cheek briefly with the back of his hand.

"No I haven't." he told her honestly.

She nodded her head slowly, and crossed her hands tightly.

"I wanted to try and fix things…but I didn't even know where to start."

It was pretty simple to him actually. They just didn't work. A few months had been long enough to tell him that.

There was also another reason why there was no possible way they'd ever work out—aside from the fact that he just didn't care for her that way—but that she had yet to see it. He knew, but it wasn't his place to interfere.

"Inoue, it's better this way. You know that it is."

She was quiet for a while, tracing the edge of her sweater sleeve repetitively before replying. "I guess…it is."

Ichigo exhaled quietly, and stood up. That went well.

He went over to her side, and set a hand on her shoulder. "Stay and eat something. It's late, so Tatsuki will drive you home."

And with that, he walked away from the table, feeling less patient to get home, and more eager to paint so he could relax his mind. He went up to Tatsuki, setting the towel on the counter.

"I'm heading home now, you got this?"

"Yeah." She snapped, regarding him quizzically. Tatsuki spoke to him in a low voice. "Hey, I'm sorry about 'Hime. I didn't know she'd pop in—"

He pinched her cheek playfully. "What are you apologizing for?" he asked with a smirk. "It is what it is. But, I'm leaving now; so don't forget to lock all the doors." Ichigo said, saluting her goodnight, before heading to the door. He exited, went over to his car before she could yell at him for being bossy.

Ichigo got in, and sat behind the steering wheel for several minutes, wondering why life had to be so complicated. At times, he wished living was like painting; where you could simply toss the canvas if you made a mistake, or failed to notice some important aspect of the grand picture. But you couldn't do that in real life. You just had to adjust yourself and learn from the choices you've made.

"I trust that this evening turned out to your liking, Mr. Ishida." Rukia said softly.

The bespectacled man nodded curtly, and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "It has, Ms. Kuchiki I thank you for your understanding in these matters."

Rukia smiled at the man. It was easy to tell that he was an honest person, and he took pride in representing XV well.

They stood among the people chatting about the night's events as they exited the gallery. Tonight had been beyond what she'd expected. More of their paintings had sold than ever, and some important people had shown up that immediately became patrons of the art here.

She held out a hand. "Well then, I hope I will be hearing from you again."

He grasped her hand tightly and nodded. "You will. This is a fine establishment. I know that my client's work is in good hands here."

Rukia smiled. "I only wish that he would grace us with his presence someday."

Ishida chuckled. "That won't be too soon, Ms. Kuchiki. XV truly wishes to remain incognito."

"A shame, well I look forward to our next meeting. I must go now and see to my guests. Good night."

"You as well." He said.

Rukia turned after that, and went off to greet other people.

This night was amazing. She shook hands with as many people as she could; complemented them all on their attire, their choice in paintings, and other small talk. She received mounds of compliments on her dress, and had to gush about how wonderful Senna was to make it for her on such short notice.

At one point, she saw Mr. and Mrs. Ichimaru, who'd bought the XV painting. They were her very first patrons at the gallery, and Rukia had had some lively conversations with Rangiku Matsumoto—she never actually went by her husband's surname—who was a woman madly in love, and had a thriving career as the host of a highly rated talk show.

She waved at the couple, and the Mrs. giggled while blowing her a kiss. She chuckled and scouted the room for other folks that she knew.

No one in particular, mind you.

Yep, not a single spike of orange hair amongst the crowd.

But it's not like she was disappointed or anything, there were plenty of people here still.

From the corner of her eye, Rukia saw Granz making his way through the crowds of people. He turned and gave her a smug grin that she did not return.

Instead, she walked over to someone that was very happy to see her. A woman, who greatly resembled Rukia, grinned upon seeing her and broke away from the man she was with to come over.

She held her arms out. "Oh, Rukia. I'm so proud of you." Hisana nearly cried, as she hugged her younger sister tightly."

Rukia laughed and hugged her back. "Thanks sis, I'm glad you made it. "

She stroked her hair and sighed. "I always knew you'd be a success, Ruki. And I'm so happy that you have this." She looked ready to bawl and Rukia chuckled. Hisana was more emotional than she, with reason of course, but she was always very sincere.

"You've done well for yourself, Rukia." Another voice said. The two sisters turned around to see Byakuya Kuchiki behind them, quirking an eyebrow at his wife's teary eyes. Rukia nodded and reached out a hand to shake his.

Yes, they shook hands. Like business partners, and not in-laws. Even though it was rare for him to even do that. Rukia didn't take offense to this, at least not anymore. She smiled at Byakuya. "Thank you very much. I appreciate you flying all the way here from Hong Kong."

He looked at his wife, and his bottom lip turned up just slightly. "Hisana wished to attend, so I agreed. Though we both desired to know how you fared here in Karakura. I see however that you are quite fine on your own."

"I am."

"Very well then," he replied, grasping Hisana's hand securely. "Then if you excuse us, we will be turning in for the night. I assume you two will be spending time together soon, yes?"

Hisana laughed softly, her eyes shone with love for her husband, stiff as the man was. "Of course we are." She looked back at Rukia, and wagged a finger. "Now, remember, we have to have lunch this week. Don't try and weasel out of it either."

"Alright, I won't." Rukia agreed, bidding them goodnight, as her stoic brother in law lead her sister by the hand towards the exit.

Rukia spun around and saw to the rest of her guests, when a tall woman with blond hair and beautifully tanned skin came over. Rukia held the smirk off her face, as the designer walked towards her. Harribel put on a smile and congratulated her.

"Rukia Kuchiki, how wonderful! What an amazing night this must be for you. Oh, and I just love your dress. May I ask who made it?" Rukia grinned. Always the business woman, eh?

"Oh this? Just a friend of mine. I think you may know her, she's an intern…I believe she works with you directly."

"An intern you say? Well I only have one intern—do you mean, Senna?"

"Why yes, she made this gorgeous dress for me. I love it." Rukia said with a grin.

The woman's face had gone pale, and she laughed emptily. "W-well, yes. I am very pleased with the quality of her work. I'll definitely speak with her soon. Congrats again." she said and left quickly.

Rukia rolled her eyes a bit and mingled for another twenty minutes as the last of her guests retired for the evening. She shrugged at not catching sight of her waiter, and walked over to the refreshment table where Kira was downing a glass of wine. He'd suffered through the whole thing, and was rewarding himself with a drink.

She laughed and grabbed his arm. "Can we go home, now?" he asked, after handing the glass to the clean-up crew how were last to leave.

Rukia glanced around. The place was pretty much empty now, everything was relatively put away, and the sold paintings were safely with their new owners. As the others left, she pulled out her keys to the gallery and dangled them in front of him.

"I guess we can." She replied.

They walked to the door and Kira tiredly asked. "So, how's Senna gonna make it up to you?"

"I have no idea, and frankly, the dress makes up for it. I still wish she'd been here, but her boss was here anyway."

"I see. So, how was this night for you?"

She grinned. "Incredible." She answered simply.

They walked outside into the cool night, before Rukia locked the doors with her keys, making a note to finish any leftover tasks the next morning. They got into a waiting cab late that night, and she could barely keep her eyes open after sitting down; sleep was already taking her over.

Her head rested on Kira's shoulder, as the most talked about piece of the night—XV's latest work—replayed in her mind.

It blew her away when she saw it. The painting appeared to be a mid-air view of what it was like to be in the sky on a cloudless day. It was so simple, and beautiful; the colors jumped right out at her, made her feel like she was just hanging out in the sky, looking around in complete bliss.

The piece fetched a whopping thirty grand too, and deserved every penny of it. She wasn't so sure about her waiter's argument earlier, after seeing it.

That seemed near perfect to her.

As Rukia's eyes shut, she wondered if she'd get the chance to discuss the painting with him again.

Even though she shook her head at the thought, subconsciously, she wouldn't exactly mind if she did.

Inoue sat in the park close to her apartment building, very much alone. She didn't really know what to do with herself, and she was too restless to inside her place.

She sat under the light of the moon, staring at the clear sky.

That's when she heard the slamming of a car door, and the voice of a man approaching.

Inoue froze upon recognizing his irritated growls, marking it as the voice belonging to him.

A minute had passed, when she realized that he'd come to stand in front of her.

"You're here." She said quietly, as a statement

The figure walked closer, and pulled her off the bench suddenly, setting her on her feet. He lifted her chin so she looked up at him. He was angry and concerned, one hand clenched as he stroked her cheek with the other.

He bent his head down to her ear. "I take it he said no, then."

Inoue didn't respond verbally, but immediately crumbled in his arms, taking refuge in his solid form. She shouldn't even be speaking to him really, but…

He held her waist tightly, and picked her up into his arms with ease.

Orihime didn't have to say yes to him. "Yes," was a given. It was the only answer.

She leaned into his chest and clutched his jacket as he carried her to his car, gently setting her in.

Inoue settled back into the comfortable seat and closed her eyes. A second later, the driver's door opened and she felt a rough, urgent kiss on her cheek. Her cheeks burned fiercely, the palm of her hand reaching up to touch the heated skin. As the engine was turned on and the car began to move, Inoue turned her gray eyes to him, observing the chiseled line of his face.

"You knew he'd say no," she stated quietly.

"Everyone did."

Inoue sighed and closed her eyes once again, knowing deep down in her heart that she'd wanted him to say no too.