Hisana wasn't freaking out.
Not at all.
She had everything perfectly under control.
Truly.
She was a grown woman. In complete control.
Yes.
There was absolutely no need to panic.
It was just a date.
One date.
With Kuchiki Byakuya.
Stupidly handsome, stupidly rich, stupidly stupid Kuchiki Byakuya.
"WHAT DO I WEAR?" she wailed despairingly at her colleagues as she flailed from one end of the shop to the other. Where was Rukia when she needed her? What's the point of having a sister if she wasn't going to be around in times of crisis? Forget the honeymoon, this was an emergency!
Oh, this was just terrible! Why do people even do this? Why was he doing this? To her? This had to be some kind of joke. A prank. Any second now a film crew were going to jump out, cameras aloft, laughing at her expense. Perhaps that's what was in the box. Some kind of giant spring snake was going to jump out at her when she opened it.
The box.
Oh, Kami, The Box. She supposed she ought to open it. She eyed it warily. Maybe it would give her some insight into the evening ahead. That, or a black eye.
She approached the suspect package with the sort of care and deliberation one would expect of a bomb disposal technician.
Peering behind her, she saw that the other three women were once again feigning disinterest as they crowded about the doorway. Honestly, at this rate, Shutara wouldn't have any nails left.
Taking a deep breath, Hisana carefully pulled at the ribbon, and slowly lifted the lid.
Her mouth fell open as she stared at the contents in disbelief. Surely he hadn't..?
It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. There was no way…
It was real. It was definitely real.
Half-sobbing, she raised it to her chest, hugging it tightly. Eventually the sobs turned into a prolonged squeal as she began an excitable, fidgety dance, hopping frantically from one foot to the other.
Isane turned to the others and asked, baffled, "Is that..?"
"-An orchid," Retsu confirmed.
Shutara pinched her nose in exasperation, muttering, "She's hopeless. A walking tragedy. Remind me, Retsu, just why do we keep her around?"
"I…" She floundered as she tried to find an appropriate answer.
"She makes good tea!" Isane offered in earnest, throwing her hand enthusiastically in the air, before withdrawing it awkwardly; the three sharing a brief moment of pained resignation at their piteous workmate as she cooed and lovingly caressed the leaves of her new orchid.
If the bridal service staff of Serendipity thought their co-worker had problems, Kuchiki Byakuya wasn't faring much better.
He was currently stood in the centre of what was essentially a luxury car showroom; the only difference being that this was most strictly not available to the public, by appointment or otherwise. Rather, this unit was exclusively accessible by those who lived on the Kuchiki estate, which is to say Byakuya and his Grandfather, Ginrei. Byakuya assumed that his father, Sōjun, also had the means to access the hangar at such times he returned to Tokyo from New York. Not that it really mattered.
What did matter, however, was that he make the right choice of vehicle. His own personal attire wasn't an issue; he knew that whatever he wore was going to look good. The car was a slightly more delicate issue; this was all about creating the right impression.
On the one hand, he could stick with the familiar, the Rolls Royce Silver Spirit, but he couldn't help but feel that it was, perhaps, a little too executive, too professional, too comfortable. He wanted something exciting. There was the Aston Martin V8 Vantage Zagato, of course, which he'd ordered on a whim whilst in Geneva the previous year. Whilst it was far from the worst purchase he'd ever made, it really didn't convey what he wanted for this evening.
What he wanted, what he needed, was something undeniable, something irrefutably sexy. Something like…
Yes… Yes, that should do it.
Byakuya ran his hand along the striking scarlet panel.
His Grandfather wouldn't mind, probably wouldn't even notice. And it's not like he was going anywhere. Besides, he'd already been promised a spin in it.
Yes, Byakuya thought, this was perfect.
Shutara was approximately a stitch picker away from throwing something at Hisana's head. Aside from the fact that she was clearly in some lovesick, fantasy la-la land and sighing dreamily every few seconds, she was also being annoyingly reticent in sharing important details like Kuchiki's vital statistics and just how long they'd been sleeping together.
"For the last time, this is our first date-."
"- And?"
"And what?"
"Are you waiting for a marriage proposal?"
Hisana sniffed haughtily at her, "You're being ridiculous."
"Am I?" Shutara looked her dead in the eye, "Imagine it. You've been dating for a year and he proposes. It's now your wedding night and you have high expectations, only… he's lousy in bed-."
"He is not lousy in bed!" Hisana interjected, crossly.
"Aha! So you have slept with him!"
Hisana's cheeks grew rapidly hot. "I… That… That's not what I said!"
Shutara raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Inhaling deeply, she conceded, "Alright…" She folded her arms and slowly turned away, seemingly dropping the subject. Once she reached her tailoring counter, she perched primly on the edge, legs crossed, and returned to filing her nails. "At least it makes it easier for you if you're not sleeping together," she said airily. "You don't have to worry so much about personal grooming."
Shutara smirked triumphantly as Hisana dropped the pen she was holding, eyes wide like a startled rabbit. "Oh my God," she whispered, suddenly horrified. "I need to shave my legs."
Hisana spent the rest of the afternoon trying to contend with an enormous amount of contradictory advice from her colleagues. Things like "don't eat too much", but also "don't turn down food, men like a girl who eats"; and "don't talk too much", but also "don't be too quiet; he'll think you're boring"; and "don't wear too much make up", but also "don't go without, make an effort; he'll appreciate it"; and "don't look like you're trying too hard", but also "make sure he can see that you want him to like you"; and "don't flash too much flesh", but also "flaunt what you've got"…
By three o' clock, her head was buzzing and she was more confused and unsure than ever. Isane and Shutara were currently hotly debating what she should do when it came to home time.
"Take a spare pair of underwear," Shutara suggested sagely.
"Why would she do that? She's not going back to his, are you, Hisana?"
She sat there gaping like a fish, not quite knowing what to say.
"Well, she can hardly take him back to her house. He's a Kuchiki, for goodness sake. He has standards."
If she hadn't been so overwhelmed, Hisana may have found that slightly insulting. Thankfully, Isane stood by her.
Shutara rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine. Make sure he takes you home-."
Isane interrupted, "- But don't invite him in."
"And take note of how-. Wait. Why ever not?"
"Because you're not that kind of girl, are you Hisana?"
She deigned to answer that. This time last week, she would have very much agreed, however, the events that followed a few hours later would prove otherwise.
"I hate to break it to you, Kotetsu, but if those two weren't screwing each other senseless when she should have been attending to her sister's wedding party, then I'm the Queen of Sheba."
Hisana winced guiltily, refusing to meet anyone's gaze.
Shutara decided to cut the poor girl some slack. "Fine. Make sure he takes you home, but don't invite him in. You are a respectable young lady and he has to earn that privilege."
They fell silent as Hisana twiddled with the cuff of her cardigan.
Retsu's soft voice broke through the air of contemplation, "Did he say where you're going?"
As luck would have it, he'd left a reservation card in the box with the Paphiopedilum fairrieanum, a gift that was probably worth more than her house and its entire contents. She fished the small slip from her pocket.
"No way…" Shutara snatched it from her hands. "No freaking way!" She flipped it over to check the back. "He's taking her to Sukiyabashi Jiro."
Isane's jaw dropped, "The one in Ginza?!"
"Is there another?"
Both Isane and Retsu hurried over to see the evidence for themselves.
Hisana didn't know the restaurant, but she did know of Ginza, even if she'd never been there. It was a highly regarded district of Tokyo, and consisted of some of the world's most exclusive brands and luxury retailers. It was expensive. Incredibly expensive. And most definitely out of her reach. Still, what did she expect from someone who lives in Minato City?
"Okay, we need a change of tack. I'd say he's earned it, wouldn't you?"
Isane nodded furiously in response.
Retsu sent Hisana home an hour early. Shutara and Isane continued to bombard her with tips even as they ferried her, stumbling, out of the door. They stopped when, and only when, Retsu's soothing tones broke through their seemingly endless instruction to offer her own sage counsel.
"And don't forget the most important thing of all." Hisana turned and clung on to her every word nearly as tightly as she clung on to her orchid, her face white as a sheet. "Have fun."
"Fun… right…," she mumbled, smiling wanly.
"Now shoo! You don't want to be late!" Retsu waved her off of the premises and into the rapidly darkening November afternoon.
The three watched as she disappeared.
"Will she be alright?" Isane asked in a hushed tone.
Shutara chuckled darkly, "Ohh, that man is going to eat her alive. And I want all of the gory details."
If Ginrei was surprised when an overly insouciant Byakuya told him that he was going out for the evening, he didn't show it. When informed that he would be taking the car, he thought nothing of it.
It was only at approximately five past six, when the thunderous roaring of an extremely powerful engine reverberated through the manor, did Ginrei even consider that maybe the appropriate question should have been, "Which one?"
Hisana was taking extraordinary care in ensuring that every square inch of her body was kissable and soft and smooth. She had exfoliated, buffed, and polished her skin until it glowed. She had gritted her teeth as she plucked tiny, errant hairs from her top lip. She had washed and scrunched and styled her hair, before pinning it up and then letting it down, and then pinning it up, and then letting it down, and then pinning it up, and then letting it down, and then pinning it up again before she was sort of happy with the effect.
She had stood in front of the floor length mirror scrutinising her appearance from every possible angle whilst wearing her best silk underwear in a delicate soft pink, before switching to black lace and doing the same. She tried on the white lace, with tiny blue flowers embroidered along the seams before returning to the black.
She had emptied the entire contents of her wardrobe across the bed, and was slowly narrowing down the selection. (For someone who never went out, she owned a ridiculous amount of clothes, most of them having never seen the light of day.) Work and casual clothes aside, she instantly discounted several outfits by virtue of what Rukia had named them.
There was The Morticia; a long, but not quite full-length, black velvet number with a fishtail hem. It was a beautiful dress and she had a great affection for it, but she didn't want Byakuya making the same comparison. Unless, of course, he was going to go full Gomez. The chances were that he had never seen, nor heard of, The Addams Family, what with it being one of those quirky American imports that aired late at night. On the other hand, he seemed the sort to suffer with insomnia, and she didn't want to take the risk.
There was The Tarty One; an exceptionally short, puff-sleeved mini-dress in a deep cranberry red. Although she was inclined to disagree with Rukia's overall assessment, perhaps this wasn't the most appropriate for a first date at a high class sushi restaurant.
The Psychedelic Fruit Salad and its vibrant geometric print was too summery for mid-November. If nothing else, she'd be far too cold in the thin cotton. The same could be said for The Prawn Cocktail, a frilly cocktail dress that Rukia insisted made her look like the hors d'œuvre Orihime had introduced them both to. (How Orihime discovers these things would never cease to confound her.)
After much deliberation, she also returned the 'Tin Foil' gold lamé dress, with its plunging neckline, cinched in waist, and shape defining shoulder pads. It was one of the few items that Hisana hadn't made herself. Rukia had laughed at her when she first brought it home, but Hisana swore that it had gone 'missing' on several occasions. And there was only one possible culprit that could actually fit into it.
Another purchase she eliminated was The Mermaid. A striking, sequined statement piece of gradating shades of teal, best suited to a night of dancing as opposed to a night of fine dining.
This left her with Logan's Run, The Mother III and The Mother IV (the preceding Mothers were too old and starting to fray in places, and so they too were removed from list of potential candidates), High Class Escort, and The Tease.
Hisana held up the lavender blue Logan's Run dress and checked her reflection. Unlike the original Jenny Agutter version, this dress very much had sides. It was, however, very short, and she had images of the floaty sleeves draping through things they shouldn't and causing all sorts of mess. That was a no.
Both The Mother III and The Mother IV were knee length qipaos, so named because they were exactly the sort of thing their Mum, Su-Mei, would have worn. The former was a rich plum with an asymmetrical waterfall of rose gold flowers; the latter a deep blue with an ornate silver brocade. Out of the two, she was more partial to the plum, and so the blue was thrown to the discarded pile.
The High Class Escort derived its name from a rather unfortunate incident the last time Hisana had actually ventured out with the girls. A group of highly opinionated young men were loudly discussing (spurred on by Rangiku, of course) what they thought each of the girls' occupations were. Whilst most were given some form of lewd twist, nothing could have prepared Hisana for the suggestion that she was, well, a high class escort, much less the bartering that ensued. Whilst she knew they were only teasing, the name had stuck and Hisana's sensitive nature had defeated reason. And so little black dress had been shoved to the back of the cupboard and Hisana had refused to wear it ever again. She held it up against herself. The halter neck bared her shoulders, but it was otherwise comparatively modest. The thin patent belt with its gold buckle gathered it in at the waist, and the hem stopped at precisely three inches above the knee. Maybe it was worth a revisit?
And, finally, there was The Tease; a slinky black silk affair with a thigh-high slit, barely held up by thin spaghetti straps. After the disaster of The High Class Escort, The Tease had been hidden away until the day Rukia had invited herself to start rifling through Hisana's things for an outfit for Renji's birthday dinner. The discovery of The Tease resulted in Hisana being under nigh-on constant surveillance for the following four months, after Rukia refused to believe that she didn't have a lover to wear it for. Well, now she did.
Hisana glanced at the clock. Just under an hour to go.
She looked at the three finalists.
Decisions, decisions.
The trouble with Italians, Byakuya thought as he narrowly missed the Ilex crenata hedging turning out onto the Mita Tsunamachi road, was that they didn't know how to build cars. For one thing, a piece of cord did not constitute a door handle. For another, it wasn't exactly the most suitable machine for manoeuvring through narrow, winding municipality streets. And who on earth decided that the steering wheel should go on the left hand side? It was completely unnatural! How was he supposed to direct the thing when its layout was back-to-front? It was impossible to judge the width and the distance to kerbs. As for comfort? It most certainly wasn't built for it. Temperature control was non-existent, and the noise was nearly unbearable. It lacked all of the sophistication and luxury of his Rolls Royce.
But that was rather the point, wasn't it? It wasn't built for comfort. It wasn't built for sophistication, nor luxury. It was built for speed.
And the second Byakuya got onto the E20, he made sure to exploit that.
Whatever its faults, the brand new Ferrari F40 was sure as hell fun to drive.