Hisana couldn't really describe how she felt other than a bit weird. Physically, she felt exactly the same. Her hips and legs had ached a bit, sure, but she certainly looked exactly the same. But the clarity that Monday morning brought with it left her feeling a little… flat. She didn't feel any more womanly, no more desirable. There had been no epiphany; no life changing, monumental shift in her being. There wasn't a before and after, there was just Hisana and a thing that had happened.

Truth be told, she was feeling a bit ashamed of herself. She didn't regret it per se, it was just the manner in which she'd done it. It was less to do with the 'who', and more to do with the 'when' and 'where'. She'd snuck off with someone who was practically a stranger (albeit an incredibly attractive stranger), done the deed (twice) and then gone back and acted like nothing had happened. At her sister's wedding.

To make matters worse, it was only after she got home and stumbled into the bathroom with the intention of relieving herself that she realised why things were feeling a bit draughty downstairs. Just how much had she had to drink to not realise that she was missing an essential piece of her attire? Had he taken them as some sort of souvenir? Did he have a secret collection of underwear from women that he'd bedded? Or was it one that he boasted about to his friends? Was she even someone that he'd want to boast about?

She doubted it.

Honestly, once the initial disappointment that he wasn't 'available' on the Sunday had worn off, she was actually glad that she hadn't seen him upon her return to the manor. She didn't think she could contend with the embarrassment of facing him in the cold light of day; of him seeing her and realising just how far he'd let his standards drop the night before.

Maybe the reason she felt so underwhelmed with it now was because there was something wrong with her; romantic endeavours had never been high on her priority list. Maybe… Maybe she'd been bad at it. Maybe she was just faulty goods, lacking a vital part of her femininity.

Once or twice she'd caught herself daydreaming about him and the way he had looked at her with that smouldering gaze, that arrogant, predatory smirk. The way he'd teased her bottom lip as he kissed her. That low, guttural moan as he…

Ultimately, she decided that no good would come of constantly mulling over the fairy tale that could have been. It was done. It had happened. She just had to get on with life.

And so she pushed the whole thing aside, stored in a little box at the back of a recess in her mind and did just that. He wouldn't be thinking of her, and she refused to mope over him. That was the plan, at least. And for the most part, it worked.

It was early on the following Thursday evening, standing in the queue at the pharmacy waiting to purchase a box of Chappy-themed plasters, that the whole thing came flooding down over her, like a tsunami of icy water.

Her eyes had been drawn to a display of small, brightly coloured toys; hard plastic teething rings and rattles, a collection of safari animals, and an adorable patchwork bunny blanket. At first, she thought nothing of it and her eyes continued wondering across the store, but as she was called forward by the cashier it suddenly struck.

Did they..?

The first time, they did. Absolutely. She was sure of it. But the second time? In the indoor garden?

That had been rather more… impromptu.

What if she was...?

She couldn't be.

Well, if she was, there was literally nothing she could do about it. Not yet, at least. All she could do was wait until enough time had passed for a test.

Throughout recent years, she'd heard Rukia's rant about contraception more than once. She'd never really paid much heed to it before now. She hadn't needed to. But Rukia was right. How was it that, in a country as highly developed as theirs, the contraceptive pill was yet to be made available? It was 1987, for goodness sake!

She'd stood in front of the bathroom mirror inspecting every single thing about her appearance, looking for signs of change; anything that might give a definitive yes or no answer. Surely she would know? Surely there would be some kind of instinctive alarm bell? What if that was what this was? The mere fact that the thought she might be pregnant had even occurred to her was it. This was the alarm bell.

The phone was ringing. She barely noticed. By the time she did, they'd rang off.

She didn't eat that night. She didn't sleep much either.

Friday continued in much the same manner.

By Saturday morning, she was a certifiable, irritable grump. No one was saying anything to her, but she knew her colleagues were watching her warily, sharing looks behind her back. Poor Isane had been positively shaken after she'd snapped at her over something utterly trivial, but she couldn't bring herself to apologise. That would involve admitting that she had a problem, and she'd already resolved to forget about what had happened. To forget about him.

Which was unfortunate, because now she couldn't stop thinking about it.

She was wavering between wanting to pretend the whole thing had never happened and that he didn't exist, and a desperate desire to see him. Whether it was a desperate desire to see him and give him a piece of her mind (because, really, how dare he do this to her?), or a desperate desire to see him to let him have his wicked way with her all over again, she wasn't entirely sure.

"Ow!" She picked at her finger where a thorn from an especially vicious rose had broken the skin and got stuck. Taking a moment to collect herself, she forced herself to lay the flower down gently and step away, when really all she wanted to do with smash something. Repeatedly.

Squeezing the tip of her finger to try and ease the thorn out, she scurried out the back in search of the plasters stashed away in her handbag. She washed the wound, and had just finished affixing the adhesive strip when Chappy's smiling face brought tsunami flooding back.

It started off as a trickle. A single tear escaping as she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to stop it. She gripped the edge of the basin, knuckles turning white. But it wasn't enough. That lone tear was soon joined by another. And another. And another. Until there was no holding back.

Isane flew to her side, box of tissues in hand. "Ohh, Hisana-san, whatever's the matter?"

She was being irrational and she hated it. It was far more likely than not that she was worrying over absolutely nothing, but she couldn't help it. How could she have been so stupid? How many times had she berated Rukia over the importance of being careful? She really was just a lousy hypocrite.

Pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes, the sobs finally subsided. She gratefully took a handful of tissues and started to clean herself up.

"Would tea help? I can put the kettle on," Isane offered.

Hisana smiled weakly at her. She really was such a sweet girl. "No, Isane. No, I… I'm sorry." She glanced over to the clock. "I think I'll take an early lunch. Go for a walk. Clear my head a bit." She scanned the room, trying to retrace her steps to remember what she was doing before this whole kerfuffle started. "Would you mind finishing up the roses for me?"

"O- Of course. I can do that. I can…" Isane noticed Hisana's bag still sat on the chair. Her coat was still hanging from the hook on the back of the door. "Hisana-san! Hisana-san, you've left your-. Oh."

She'd gone.

"Leave it, Isane," Unohana said softly, but firmly from behind a delicate spiralling arrangement of rust-coloured chrysanthemums. "She'll be okay."

Shutara was leaning back on her elbows at the counter, inches away from the abandoned rose, smiling wryly. "I wonder who he is," she commented offhandedly.

"Huh?" Isane's eyes widened as she stood in the centre of the shop floor, awkwardly grasping Hisana's coat.

"Indeed," Unohana concurred. "Indeed."

Bracing. The bitter wind was incredibly bracing, Hisana decided, as she strode past the grocers. It was exactly the sort of weather that was good for blowing away the cobwebs, as her Mum would say.

A small, bratty, red-haired boy nearly crashed into her as he chased after an equally small, wailing girl with her dark hair in pigtails. He was attempting to bash her over the head with a broom, and probably would have succeeded had Hisana not got in the way. In many respects, they reminded her of a young Renji and Rukia, although, in this scenario, they would both be brandishing brooms and it would be highly unlikely that either of them would stop simply because a grown-up had appeared.

The girl had quite wisely used the split second reprieve to make her get away and vanished into the store. Hisana chuckled to herself as she could hear the boy cursing after her.

She briefly wondered what sort of adventures they were having in Taipei, and whether or not Renji was beginning to regret his judgement in entrusting Rukia with being the translator. Tricking him into eating something either ridiculously spicy or highly questionable would never not be funny to Rukia, no matter how much she loved him.

She walked by a magazine stand and crossed the street, where she was greeted by aging posters from Madonna's Who's That Girl tour concert. Ohhh, that was fun, even if she did maintain that Rukia owed her a soul after she'd sold hers getting front row tickets. Still, it wasn't every day that your baby sister turned twenty-one.

Echoes from Papa Don't Preach rang through her mind. 'Oh, shut up,' she grumbled at herself.

At least she'd already started work on Rukia's Labyrinth dress by the time June rolled around, otherwise she'd have been requesting something akin to the pink monstrosity that was the Material Girl costume.

Kami knows what she was going to get Rukia for her next birthday, especially now that she had finally managed to acquire a genuine leather jacket. She hoped Hisagi wasn't expecting it back any time soon.

Before she knew it, Hisana had almost come full circle and was nearly back at the shop. She'd passed Mashiba Middle School and was halfway through the park before she realised just how cold she actually was. She held her cardigan just a little bit tighter about her person and tucked her hands in her underarms. She might just take Isane up on that offer of a hot drink when she returned.

Feeling considerably calmer, if a lot colder, than before she left, Hisana took one last steadying breath as she re-entered the shop, rubbing her hands together to stimulate the circulation.

And then she froze.

Metaphorically speaking, of course, but it may as well have been literal with how glacial her expression turned.

"Oh good. You're back. I can't decide between the pewter and porpoise. What do you think, Hisana?

There, beyond the floral arrangements and the partitioning half-wall, positively parading about the menswear section without a care in the world, was a half-naked Kuchiki Byakuya. And, unlike the three other women, Hisana was decidedly not impressed.

"I think you're going to get a chill, Kuchiki-sama. Excuse me." Hisana marched primly straight through to the back, otherwise refusing to acknowledge him. She wanted to be in control of herself and the last thing she needed right now was to be distracted by his shirtless form. It did strange things to her.

Byakuya's eyebrows flew up to his hairline so sharply, he felt like he'd almost lost them. Just as rapidly, they descended into a deep frown.

It wouldn't be the first time a woman had given him the cold shoulder, but usually they at least waited until after he refused to allow them turn his home into something resembling another of Imelda Marcos' storage facilities.

"I…" He was, frankly, baffled. And slightly unnerved by the tailor's sudden interest in sizing up multiple pairs of extraordinarily large, shiny, and very sharp looking scissors. He wasn't entirely sure that the way she was menacingly opening and closing the blades was completely necessary, either.

Hisana was freaking out. Silently, of course, she wasn't a complete drama queen, but there was a notable amount of arm flapping. Why was he even here?

The thought that he could have turned up simply because he wanted to see her didn't even occur to her. Why would he? He'd made himself quite clear on Sunday by being 'unavailable'. He could have anyone he wanted, when he wanted. She was a one-time fling. He certainly wasn't about to settle for someone as plain as her?

Had they broken something valuable? Was there irreparable damage to the property that she'd missed? Had someone stolen something? Did he-?

Oh Kami. The money. He was here for the money. She thought that they'd agreed that the payment could come next week. She didn't get paid until Thursday. Hadn't she explained this? What was she going to do? She couldn't magic cash out of thin air. She was already living on bread and iffit for the next the week (If it's in the cupboard, you can have it; if it's not, you can't.) She still had the electric to pay off. And the cat to feed. He'd be leaving home if he had to go another day without prawns.

She could feel her Mum's despairing headshake. She'd probably find the whole thing highly amusing. (Well, maybe not Emperor going without his prawns. Su-Mei had to draw the line somewhere, and depriving her precious Persian of his treats would most certainly be it.)

Still, she had to do something. And hiding back here wasn't going to make him go away. She scrambled for her purse. Sorry, Emperor, she thought glumly, looks like you'll be packing your bags. ¥10,000 was hardly going to cover it, but at least it was something. Yeah, like that utilities bill.

She sighed deeply. Here goes nothing.