A/N: Thank you for your feedback! =) Here's the second chapter. I know what you're thinking... Why is this looking like an IchiHime fic? I assure you, it's a ByaHime story! (But it's really hard to write any Bleach fic without the inclusion of the main character. hehe..)

"I did as you asked." The poised man closed his eyes, fatigue shadowing his otherwise handsome face.

Against his wishes, his sister-in-law had flown home again to "check up on him". Picking her up from a late flight, they had opted to eat inside of the airport at a ramen shop. Patrons sat along a row of stools at one wall; she sat to his right, and a stranger sat to his left. Rukia spun to face him.

"You didn't even stay! You went back on your word!"

Byakuya did not mind being accused of being distant, entitled, even mean, but to challenge his integrity was crossing a line, and it hit a sensitive nerve.

"Rukia, I waited three months to see her. It's not my fault that Inoue Orihime was a disappointment. She's unprofessional and ditzy. It wouldn't have mattered if I had stayed."

Unbeknownst to the two, a certain strawberry blonde had been sitting in the seat beside them and she had overheard the entire conversation. At first, it was just fodder for entertainment as she wolfed down her meal by herself, but when she heard the name, her rage surged.

"How dare you slander my friend!" She slammed her hands down onto the table for emphasis.

"It's rude to eavesdrop on other people's conversations," Byakuya retorted in a level voice.

"It's ruder to make false accusations of someone you don't even know!"

"Ma'am, I'm so sorry about my brother. He didn't mean to-"

"No, Rukia, don't apologize. I meant every word." He gave the stranger an icy look that signaled that he would not be taking back anything that he had said.

"You were lucky she saw you at all! She's an amazing doctor, and I would know because I used to be a patient. Orihime is the most kind-hearted person that I know. You would've found out for yourself, had you bothered to give her a chance. Oh, and for your information, the wait is long because she devotes all of her time to her existing patients. She doesn't take on new patients unless another one has finished treatment." She stormed off, not giving them the chance to respond.

Loud music blared in the background and the smell of alcohol, sweat, and potent perfume assaulted her olfactory senses. Colourful lights flashed across in random patterns, distorting faces and creating an atmosphere of anonymity. Already, she regretted her decision to accept her friends' invitation out. However, it wasn't often that she got to see them, as they were flight attendants. She glanced over at Momo and Rangiku. While her darker haired friend seemed to be as uncomfortable as she was, it looked like the strawberry blonde was having the time of her life. Swaying her hips to the music, it was apparent that she had every male in her proximity hypnotized. She did not have to ask whose idea it was to come to this place.

"Ichigo!" Rangiku waved at someone in the crowd.

As the tall male emerged from the dancing masses, Orihime felt her cheeks ablaze. She tried to convince herself that the heat was due to the alcohol, but she suspected that it had more to do with seeing her high school crush again. Ichigo's bright orange locks were shorter now, and his long limbs had filled out considerably with even more muscle. Still, she had long since abandoned the childhood infatuation. But, she had spent half a decade pining for this man. What was that saying again? Right, old habits die hard. She gave him a shy smile as he joined them. After a round of shots, she was at ease again and conversations flowed naturally between them.

"Captain!" Suddenly, Rangiku left them, calling after someone at the bar.

The group watched as the femme fatale approached a baby-faced, silver-haired man sitting by himself. She greeted him in a familiar manner, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him into her cleavage in a tight squeeze. Although his cheeks went red, they noted that his features remained stoic. In fact, he looked kind of annoyed. Orihime could not help but think of Byakuya; she remembered him having a similar expression. Was this the male equivalent of the female resting bitch face? Her thoughts returned to Rangiku. Once a patient grieving the death of her fiancé, she had certainly come a long way in her recovery. No longer depressed, the flirty woman exuded life and gaiety. Then again, it had been years since she had overcome her loss. It was by sheer act of fate that they bumped into each other again and became the best of friends. They could not hear the words exchanged between her and the "Captain", but Rangiku returned shortly, slightly pouting.

"Don't ask," she said, before anyone could.

The rest of the night had been mostly uneventful. When Rangiku became unable to stand anymore, it was time to call it quits. Momo lived closest to her, so she volunteered to take her home. Orihime had insisted that she could get back on her own, but Ichigo, being the gentleman that he was, had refused to let her get into the cab alone.

Exiting the taxi, the pair inhaled the fresh air, and reveled in the silence of the deserted streets. He walked her to the door of her brownstone and shuffled his feet as she searched her purse for keys. His breath hitched when she dropped the metal bunch and bent over to pick them up. His eyes fixated on her curvaceous bottom and he had to pinch himself over the bridge of his nose to prevent a nosebleed. He had not been immune to her blossoming beauty in the years following high school. In fact, he had purposely put distance between them so that he would not screw up their friendship. But, now, standing just behind her, so close that he could smell and identify her brand of shampoo, he was intoxicated by her bashful smiles, enticing body, and cute clumsiness.

"H-Hey, Inoue?"

"Uh-huh?" She looked over her shoulder and was surprised to see Ichigo blushing at her.

"Do you maybe want to grab coffee sometime?"

"Sure, I'd love to." She gave him a big smile, thinking nothing of it.

Byakuya tapped his long fingers absentmindedly upon his desk. He was back at work again, having dropped off Rukia at home. In truth, there were no impending business affairs to attend to, but he had had a clouded mind and needed some space and quiet to comb through his thoughts. It was just his luck to run into someone who knew Dr. Inoue. If he had to be completely honest, he had not really thought that badly of her; he had just wanted to get Rukia off his back. Still, he probably should not have run his mouth. Inoue Orihime... He tried to recall their brief meeting, but found it hard to remember any of the specific words exchanged between them. Perhaps the blonde had had a point; he had never given her a real chance. He shook his head, raking his hand through his long, dark locks. There was no reason to give her a chance; he did not need her help. He just needed a good night's rest. Closing his eyes, he leaned back in his tall leather chair and tried to picture Hisana. Instead, he saw large, round grey eyes, burnt orange hair and a smile that could rival the sun. His eyes snapped open and his eyebrows knitted. His jaw twitched as he realized that he had subconsciously conjured up the face of the bubbly psychiatrist.