Swim-Bike-Run 22 (Bya/Ren)
Yep! Still alive! Sorry 'bout my hiatus here, but I've been working hard on another story (which you will experience soon). My heartfelt thanks go to Tylashke, who managed to beta even during extensive global travel (yeah...life is just so hard for some of us...I think I feel rather envious right now!)
Enjoy! No special warnings - and the next chapter is THE RACE.
Disclaimer: Bleach characters belong to Tite Kubo.
Swim-Bike-Run 22
“You need to find your balance point,” Yoruichi said again, forever patient. “Otherwise, your trunk won’t rotate in the water and you won’t be able to breathe without lifting your head out of the water. And what will that result in?”
She paused, expectant.
“I’ll raise my head which will raise my chest which will slow me down,” Renji sputtered, water still dripping from his braided hair.
“All I ask is that you give this a try, Renji,” she changed her tone, cajoling him. “What is it you don’t like about it?”
He stood in the shallow end, wiping water out of his eyes, his goggles perched on the tattooed forehead.
“Well…” he began, his tone embarrassed. “When I kicked off the wall with my hands by my sides, like you said, and started to turn my shoulder to see when my body will flip onto its back? I was upside down under water.” He eyed her, assuming that being under water upside down just about summed it up.
“So?”
“What do you mean, ‘so’?” It was terrible! I got water in my nose and I had to flip back over and I inhaled some more and I thought I’d drown, Yoruichi!”
She sighed, glad that Byakuya wasn’t there to witness Renji’s little panic moment.
“Let me show you how to blow bubbles out of your nose while you’re upside down. Then we’ll try the balancing exercise again.”
Following another half hour of sheer frustration, Renji was able to find his balance point without drowning, and with his arms either folded or extended. He was able to clear his nose underwater, and cough underwater, and swallow unwanted water underwater, and all that was left was incorporating his newfound skill into a series of strokes.
“Relax your neck and aim your head almost as though you were crawling into a tunnel going downhill. . .head down…good, good.” Yoruichi watched with satisfaction as Renji plowed his way down the lane, hardly making a sound. He was slow yet persistent, and his endurance increased with every workout. She watched him go for another two hundred meters, then called a halt to the session.
“This is a good time to stop, Renji. Do some more tomorrow, but stick to your technique. I don’t care how much or how little you do, as long as you do it right. Incorporating new elements takes repetition, and if you don’t backslide into that inefficient splashing, you’ll do really great six weeks from now.”
“Six weeks…wow. The race is getting pretty close.” Renji’s casual tone didn’t quite match the tension in his face.
“You will do great, both of you. You running today?”
Renji nodded. “But I’m concerned about Byakuya’s work schedule. He hasn’t been swimming and we bike less often since he’s so tired…”
Yoruichi grinned. “He’ll be in the shape of his life. He’s been swimming every day before work, in the morning.”
“He has?” This was news to Renji. He felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment. Relief, because Byakuya was sticking to his goal, yet…was the prospect of lying down for Renji truly so terrible that he’d wake up at four-thirty just to do his half-hour swim?
“Yes. Between that and both of you running during lunch every other day, you will be great. And both of you bike to work. All you need is a few speed-drills and hill workouts, several longer rides, and you’ll be set to go!”
“Yeah, right.” Renji rallied. “So…are you giving us that bike handling skills lesson tomorrow?”
XDXDXD
He wished he was out there, running along the shady residential streets before it got truly hot, except Byakuya’s schedule included an unavoidable business meeting today. Shinji told him he could go, provided he stopped by the office and discuss a situation of some kind later. It had to do with the tabloids. Byakuya straightened his shoulders and directed his focus inward, resolved not to let his discomfort show. He was out of the closet, he was in a relationship, and if his boss had an issue with that, they would discuss it. He tried to close his eyes and say “I do not give a flying fuck” to himself, except he did. Having a job mattered. Being accepted would be nice, too, but he couldn’t really worry about it too much before his meeting with Ukitake and the other side. He changed in the cab of Kensei’s truck, slipping into dress pants, dress shoes, and a striped grey and white button-down shirt. He let his hair loose to brush it, slicking it back into his tidy ponytail, hoping the sweat would dry on the way and give him that “on purpose” look.
“You clean up pretty good,” Kensei grumbled as Byakuya waved good-bye to his coworkers and slid into his expensive car. “Good luck!”
“Yeah, good luck!” a few of the others called out. All of them looked up from their lunches to wave. Byakuya inhaled. A more expressive man would have shaken his head and grinned. Renji would have shouted and waved back. The warmth of the unexpected interaction eased the knot under his shoulder blade, and he willed his shoulders to relax.
They sat in a conference room of a big law firm that worked for 6th Element. Byakuya knew the lawyers well; they had once worked for him. Now they were eyeing him on the sly, taking in his sun-kissed face and his hands roughened, dirt ground behind his nails as though a permanent feature. Only a soak in a chlorinated pool got rid of dirt like that. He straightened his shoulders, feeling the buttons on his chest strain. They didn’t use to do that.
“You seem well,” his former attorney said over a cup of coffee.
Byakuya’s eyes widened at the unexpected comment. He caught the man’s eyes assessing him.
“I am - I am doing rather well, thank you. And yourself?”
“Alright, I suppose. Although things are a bit tense with your former company.” An amused gleam worked its way past the man’s professional façade.
“Perhaps we should leave that discussion until Hideo Kuchiki gets here,” Ukitake murmured, rereading the term sheet that stated Byakuya Kuchiki’s conditions of mutual tolerance. It was a “live and let live” proposition, and he felt confident that the Kuchiki clan, already in a state of civil war over the situation, would see the light of reason and come to a sensible compromise.
Only two minutes later, most of which were filled by paper-shuffling and small talk, the door opened. Roger Kuchiki, escorted by several older shareholders, came in.
Byakuya’s eyebrow twitched in surprise. Roger was Hideo’s oldest nephew, almost equal to Byakuya in age. That made him young, ten years out of college. Still, he had the Kuchiki look, with his serious expression and regal bearing. His first steps brought him to Byakuya’s leather chair.
“Dude,” he said, his face splitting in a grin. “I haven’t seen you in way too long.” He extended his hand, prompting Byakuya to stand and shake it. He had never talked to Roger much and now he didn’t quite know what to make of his cousin’s rather informal manner.
“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we? We’re losing market-share due to that Boycott 6th Element campaign. We’re flooded with hate mail from Byakuya’s supporters. Mostly women.” The wry grin came back. “I don’t know how you do it, cousin, but personally I think it was the picture of you on your partner’s handlebars that drove the public over the edge. It made you look, like, vulnerable, you know? Scared. Yeah, you looked fucking terrified for your life, dude. Lots of people can identify with that. So…what’s the situation, exactly? Ever since uncle Hideo got voted out two days ago, I’ve been treading water, trying to catch up. I never expected to be elected a CEO. Not in this decade, anyhow.”
Roger Kuchiki ran his fingers through his short, black hair, and smiled. It was a happy smile.
“I have no idea what you expect me to do about the boycott campaign,” Byakuya finally answered. “It hurts my profits every bit as it hurts yours.”
A crafty expression flickered across the face of Roger Kuchiki. “I’ll need your public cooperation and some kind of a statement of reconciliation with the family, or at least the company. There is no other way I can call the dogs off.”
“Call the dogs off?” Ukitake straightened up, a dawning of understanding apparent in his eyes.
“Yeah, dude. Who do you think started the whole boycott to begin with?”
XDXDXD
He walked down the street without seeing or hearing; only after he ran into a light pole and said a distracted “Excuse me,” did Byakuya become alert to his distracted state. This was no way to talk to his current boss - and yet, so much had happened, he knew he’d be addressing Shinji Hirako’s concerns from a position of strength. His assets would be unblocked by the end of the week and 6th Element would pay out all royalties owed to him, Rukia, and Ichigo. The war was over.
He leaned against the wall of Shinji Hirako’s office building; the sun might have moved to the other side of the street, but the stone still radiated heat. He basked in the warmth that soothed his knotted back and shoulders despite the oppressive temperature and humidity.
He had to settle. Relax. Breathe.
The grey eyes drifted to half-mast, not quite daring to shut while relaxing amidst the busy urban foot-traffic.
Only after his back cracked, did he peel himself from a wall that others would find oppressively hot and entered the cool, air-conditioned office of Shinji Hirako’s landscape design company.
“Byakuya! Come in. What can I get you? Coffee? Tea?” Shinji waved him to follow him to a small kitchenette.
“Water is fine, thank you.”
“Yeah. It’s sweltering out there. I was out checking on the crews.” Hirako filled two tall glasses with ice and water from the tap, and motioned Byakuya to follow him to his office.
“So, we need to talk.”
The tension began to creep back, knitting the muscles in Byakuya’s back together again, and he exhaled, willing it away.
“Yes?”
“Yeah. You may not know it, but we are totally swamped with work because of you.” Hirako’s smile lacked warmth as he showed his prominent, even teeth. “Apparently, since you are a celebrity now, having the mulch spread by your elite hands is considered a status symbol of sorts. Have you noticed anything odd at your worksites?”
Byakuya’s eyes widened at the revelation, but he remained composed, bending his mind to the behavior of Hirako’s clients.
“The owners used to be away when we worked,” he finally said. “Now, the lady of the house tends to be home. There is usually something going on…I have seen the occasional friend or two on the patio, sitting and gossiping.”
“And observing you. You may not realize this, but our customers ask for you by name. Are you really so oblivious as not to notice these things?” Hirako leaned back in his leather executive chair, an exasperated laugh bubbling up from his chest as he twined his fingers behind his head.
Byakuya’s veiled gaze slid to the side. “Well…”
“Well what? Spit it out, man!”
“Some of the ladies insist that I drink their iced tea or their lemonade…there have been some who asked me to autograph a tabloid. Some ask me about personal matters, but I refuse to discuss these.”
“Yeah! That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I had to hire extra people to form a third team because our volume is so high. You’ll be reassigned from shoveling dirt to just showing up and being nice to the ladies. Make sure to hit each worksite once a day and just be social. Nothing too involved, don’t worry - just, drink their iced tea, talk them out of stupid gardening decisions, stuff like that. Like, we have people who insist on growing roses in dappled shade or who insist on scorching azaleas in full, blazing sun. They won’t take my word for it and wrestling with them is a pain in the butt…if you could steer them straight, it would help me a great deal.” Hirako eyed him with greedy speculation. “You are, after all, a master gardener.”
The tension gripped Byakuya’s back with full force. “That seems like a bad idea. I am not suited to being a social butterfly.”
Hirako’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you needed this job.”
Byakuya’s lips quirked up the slightest bit. “About that…no, not anymore. My situation will be resolved by the end of the week. I was hoping we could finish my rooftop garden, actually.”
“What, you mean you caved?”
“No,” Byakuya corrected his landscaper. “I never ‘cave’. Perhaps we should coordinate our schedules, though.”
“But I need you!” Hirako moaned. “All these people want you, personally!”
Byakuya rose. “I shall think about your problem. Give me a few days. In the meanwhile, I need to attend to affairs I have been forced to set aside.”
XDXDXD
Byakuya had been neglectful of important things, and set to with a will in order to remedy the error of his ways. The leftover salad in the refrigerator would do well as a filling for his Vietnamese spring rolls. Rice cooked as he cut up colorful vegetables and fragrant herbs before moving onto preparing two bottles of iced water and two bottles of electrolyte mix. And a sweet snack…he rummaged through the pantry, retrieving an unopened package of Mint Milano cookies. The rice timer buzzed and he turned off the heat, letting the rice rest while he changed out of his ‘business casual’ attire and pulled on his biking pants and a jersey. He glanced at the clock…Renji would be home in minutes.
The silver, heat-reflective backpack was already filled with a blanket, their four bottles, two oranges and the baggie of cookies. Byakuya’s nimble fingers packed and rolled the next-to-last spring roll; the last roundel of translucent rice pasta had been dipped in water long enough to soften and be transformed into recognizable food. Rice, chicken, red pepper, scallions, basil…tuck and roll…and the door opened.
“Byakuya? You home already?” Byakuya could see Renji’s routine without even peeking around the corner: park the bike, take off his shoes, dump his backpack in the corner.
“In the kitchen!”
Then Renji appeared, his brows drawn together with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Byakuya withheld a smile, still focused on placing the last spring roll into a bento box.
“Why do you think there is anything wrong, Renji?”
“You’re home early and you’re cooking. Did you…if you got sacked on account of those tabloids, I’ll take it up with that pretentious asshole myself!”
Byakuya placed a lid on the second bento and turned around, his arms sliding up Renji’s shoulders. “No, nothing bad has happened. I do have some good news, but first I’d like to invite you on a nice, long bike ride with a dinner by the river.”
Renji’s eyes softened as he smiled, relief clearly written over his face. “Oh. Okay. Yoruichi said we should fit a few long rides and hill workouts in before the race…”
“She emailed me both of our workout schedules.”
“Oh.” Renji paused. “Did she say anything else?”
“Nothing of importance…”
Not counting the fact you almost drowned, trying to go upside down underwater…and her sense of humor is severely misplaced.
“Oh.” Renji experienced a twinge of guilt for being so self-conscious about his failings. He was doing great for a novice swimmer. His technique might have grown by leaps and bounds in the pool, but there were practical skills to consider that he had never even heard of. Treading water, for instance - it was harder now, with much less body fat.
“I had some trouble in the water today - but it’s all resolved now. I’ve learned some useful things.”
Grey eyes warmed with a genuine smile. “I am glad, Renji. You are doing well.” He paused, stumbling over words that would not come easily. “I could not be more proud of you.”
Then Renji’s face came very close to his; their noses touched, their lips brushed, and Renji embraced him, exhaling into his hair. “That means a lot, coming from you.”
“Never doubt it.”
Two hours and thirty-five miles later, they were sitting on a blanket by the floating dock. The spring rolls were enjoyed in moderation - neither of them was too hungry after a long workout. The oranges had bit the dust, though, and so had some of the Mint Milano cookies.
“So let me get this straight,” Renji reiterated, to ascertain his understanding of the situation. “Your uncle Hideo was voted out, and your cousin Roger was voted in, and he’s willing to work with you?”
Byakuya’s eyelids fell. “More than that. Roger wants me back in some kind of an advisory capacity. He’s almost done with his masters in economics, and he had been studying part-time for the last few years, so taking over the company would endanger his academic standing. However, he did quit his other job as a sales coordinator. This might work out well for everyone.”
Renji frowned, dismay in his every word. “But you were so happy, working on your seaweed slime and stuff! What about your new product line? All that work you put into it…” He paused, stopping in mid-rant. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just, I don’t want you to go back…”
“Renji. I am not going back all the way. This is for only two years or so. And, I will be with you. We are together and nothing will ever change that.”
The red heat that crept up Renji’s neck told Byakuya that he hit the nail right on the head.
“I am so selfish,” Renji sighed.
“Yes. Well. About the Seaweed Ambassador, Roger agreed to examine the business concept. He might even use it for his final thesis topic.”
“Oh.” Renji nodded, then he smiled. “That’s ideal. Except for me being selfish, of course.”
“You’re supposed to want me to stay.” Byakuya’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Would you pass me one of those cookies, Renji?”
Renji stared.
“You have eaten spring rolls with hot sauce in them without complaint, Renji. I, too, have to be willing to try new things every so often.”
XDXDXD
Their bikes were racked in the utility room and they had showered, and were now sitting in canvas deck chairs and sipping gin and tonic with lime. Renji marveled at the way they were together, enjoying the last of the quiet evening. Two large candles burned by their feet, their flames shielded by glass pillars.
“I’ll have to finish the outside of this deck,” Renji said, eyeing his handiwork.
“It looks beautiful. Before you do that, though, let’s ask Hirako to fill these planters with something green. So far, all we have is that one sakura tree.”
“And you wanted a koi pond up here, as I recall,” Renji teased.
“Yes, Hirako and I have already discussed it. The roof is rated for it, there should be no problems…I had expected to have to settle for a rectangular cistern made of dry-stack blocks, but it seems that he can install almost any shape we design.”
“Nothing wrong with rectangular cisterns,” Renji murmured.
“No.”
They finished their drinks in silence.
“Renji. There is this thing Hirako wants me to do. It is rather awkward…” Byakuya paused, before he launched into his tale of woe.
“So they want you to just show up and drink over-sweetened iced tea and give out Byakuya Kuchiki autographs?” Renji grinned. He was well aware of his partner’s private, almost introverted nature.
“Yes.”
“And what did you say?”
“I have informed Shinji Hirako that I no longer need the job.”
“Ah.” Renji swirled the remaining ice in his glass, enjoying its cold sound, debating whether to make another round. “And how did that bit of gun diplomacy go over?”
“I was merely stating a fact.” Byakuya’s eyes tensed.
“Yes - to a man who gave you a job when you needed one.”
“My presence alone increased his business volume twofold, and he has clients on a waiting list.”
“Exactly!” Renji exclaimed. “And if you flee because you can’t stand sugar in your tea, all those new clients will flee with you, and he’ll have to fire the new people he just hired. You know how these things go, Byakuya.”
The older man wiped a strand of midnight hair from his face in a gesture that betrayed uncertainty.
“My company was so large, I never had to do any hiring and firing. So, no. I do not know how it goes. However…” his eyes were black in the night, contrasting against his pale skin. “Do you truly think that the families of my newest colleagues would be affected if I just left?”
Renji rose. “Think about it, Bya. I’ll go make us another drink, and you sit here in your penthouse and think back to the time when your assets were frozen and it was so hard to come up with liquid cash. Most people live like that every day.”
The second gin and tonic was almost gone, sipped slowly in tense silence.
“Perhaps I could work out a compromise with Hirako,” Byakuya offered. “I could commit to go to a certain number of client visits per week. And I could refuse the horrid tea.”
“We could leak your favorite tea recipe to the media,” Renji quipped. Byakuya only groaned.
“The thing is, Renji,” he said, draining what was left in his glass. “That sonovabich Hirako said he wouldn’t finish our rooftop garden unless I helped him out with his fucking publicity problem. If I agree to do it, he’ll hold it over my head.”
Renji swirled his ice some more, marveling at the way his partner’s vocabulary increased after only two drinks.
“Well that’s easy,” he said. “We’ll make it known that you’re a true prince among tea drinkers. In fact, you hold proper tea ingredients in same reverence as natural and organic ice cream ingredients and you will drink nothing but the best. Your fame as a picky tea drinker will spread. You will educate the masses! And then, when you’re ready, you can introduce them to the Seaweed Ambassador product line. This is sort of like building your own business, but sideways.”
I love you, Renji.
He wanted to say it. He really, truly did, but the words got stuck in his throat and he coughed a bit as his hand reached through the dark, moist air and touched the larger hand of his partner. He felt Renji’s warm fingers slide between his, and forced an exhale.
He felt like he was the luckiest man alive.
Enjoy! No special warnings - and the next chapter is THE RACE.
Disclaimer: Bleach characters belong to Tite Kubo.
Swim-Bike-Run 22
“You need to find your balance point,” Yoruichi said again, forever patient. “Otherwise, your trunk won’t rotate in the water and you won’t be able to breathe without lifting your head out of the water. And what will that result in?”
She paused, expectant.
“I’ll raise my head which will raise my chest which will slow me down,” Renji sputtered, water still dripping from his braided hair.
“All I ask is that you give this a try, Renji,” she changed her tone, cajoling him. “What is it you don’t like about it?”
He stood in the shallow end, wiping water out of his eyes, his goggles perched on the tattooed forehead.
“Well…” he began, his tone embarrassed. “When I kicked off the wall with my hands by my sides, like you said, and started to turn my shoulder to see when my body will flip onto its back? I was upside down under water.” He eyed her, assuming that being under water upside down just about summed it up.
“So?”
“What do you mean, ‘so’?” It was terrible! I got water in my nose and I had to flip back over and I inhaled some more and I thought I’d drown, Yoruichi!”
She sighed, glad that Byakuya wasn’t there to witness Renji’s little panic moment.
“Let me show you how to blow bubbles out of your nose while you’re upside down. Then we’ll try the balancing exercise again.”
Following another half hour of sheer frustration, Renji was able to find his balance point without drowning, and with his arms either folded or extended. He was able to clear his nose underwater, and cough underwater, and swallow unwanted water underwater, and all that was left was incorporating his newfound skill into a series of strokes.
“Relax your neck and aim your head almost as though you were crawling into a tunnel going downhill. . .head down…good, good.” Yoruichi watched with satisfaction as Renji plowed his way down the lane, hardly making a sound. He was slow yet persistent, and his endurance increased with every workout. She watched him go for another two hundred meters, then called a halt to the session.
“This is a good time to stop, Renji. Do some more tomorrow, but stick to your technique. I don’t care how much or how little you do, as long as you do it right. Incorporating new elements takes repetition, and if you don’t backslide into that inefficient splashing, you’ll do really great six weeks from now.”
“Six weeks…wow. The race is getting pretty close.” Renji’s casual tone didn’t quite match the tension in his face.
“You will do great, both of you. You running today?”
Renji nodded. “But I’m concerned about Byakuya’s work schedule. He hasn’t been swimming and we bike less often since he’s so tired…”
Yoruichi grinned. “He’ll be in the shape of his life. He’s been swimming every day before work, in the morning.”
“He has?” This was news to Renji. He felt an odd mix of relief and disappointment. Relief, because Byakuya was sticking to his goal, yet…was the prospect of lying down for Renji truly so terrible that he’d wake up at four-thirty just to do his half-hour swim?
“Yes. Between that and both of you running during lunch every other day, you will be great. And both of you bike to work. All you need is a few speed-drills and hill workouts, several longer rides, and you’ll be set to go!”
“Yeah, right.” Renji rallied. “So…are you giving us that bike handling skills lesson tomorrow?”
XDXDXD
He wished he was out there, running along the shady residential streets before it got truly hot, except Byakuya’s schedule included an unavoidable business meeting today. Shinji told him he could go, provided he stopped by the office and discuss a situation of some kind later. It had to do with the tabloids. Byakuya straightened his shoulders and directed his focus inward, resolved not to let his discomfort show. He was out of the closet, he was in a relationship, and if his boss had an issue with that, they would discuss it. He tried to close his eyes and say “I do not give a flying fuck” to himself, except he did. Having a job mattered. Being accepted would be nice, too, but he couldn’t really worry about it too much before his meeting with Ukitake and the other side. He changed in the cab of Kensei’s truck, slipping into dress pants, dress shoes, and a striped grey and white button-down shirt. He let his hair loose to brush it, slicking it back into his tidy ponytail, hoping the sweat would dry on the way and give him that “on purpose” look.
“You clean up pretty good,” Kensei grumbled as Byakuya waved good-bye to his coworkers and slid into his expensive car. “Good luck!”
“Yeah, good luck!” a few of the others called out. All of them looked up from their lunches to wave. Byakuya inhaled. A more expressive man would have shaken his head and grinned. Renji would have shouted and waved back. The warmth of the unexpected interaction eased the knot under his shoulder blade, and he willed his shoulders to relax.
They sat in a conference room of a big law firm that worked for 6th Element. Byakuya knew the lawyers well; they had once worked for him. Now they were eyeing him on the sly, taking in his sun-kissed face and his hands roughened, dirt ground behind his nails as though a permanent feature. Only a soak in a chlorinated pool got rid of dirt like that. He straightened his shoulders, feeling the buttons on his chest strain. They didn’t use to do that.
“You seem well,” his former attorney said over a cup of coffee.
Byakuya’s eyes widened at the unexpected comment. He caught the man’s eyes assessing him.
“I am - I am doing rather well, thank you. And yourself?”
“Alright, I suppose. Although things are a bit tense with your former company.” An amused gleam worked its way past the man’s professional façade.
“Perhaps we should leave that discussion until Hideo Kuchiki gets here,” Ukitake murmured, rereading the term sheet that stated Byakuya Kuchiki’s conditions of mutual tolerance. It was a “live and let live” proposition, and he felt confident that the Kuchiki clan, already in a state of civil war over the situation, would see the light of reason and come to a sensible compromise.
Only two minutes later, most of which were filled by paper-shuffling and small talk, the door opened. Roger Kuchiki, escorted by several older shareholders, came in.
Byakuya’s eyebrow twitched in surprise. Roger was Hideo’s oldest nephew, almost equal to Byakuya in age. That made him young, ten years out of college. Still, he had the Kuchiki look, with his serious expression and regal bearing. His first steps brought him to Byakuya’s leather chair.
“Dude,” he said, his face splitting in a grin. “I haven’t seen you in way too long.” He extended his hand, prompting Byakuya to stand and shake it. He had never talked to Roger much and now he didn’t quite know what to make of his cousin’s rather informal manner.
“Let’s get this show on the road, shall we? We’re losing market-share due to that Boycott 6th Element campaign. We’re flooded with hate mail from Byakuya’s supporters. Mostly women.” The wry grin came back. “I don’t know how you do it, cousin, but personally I think it was the picture of you on your partner’s handlebars that drove the public over the edge. It made you look, like, vulnerable, you know? Scared. Yeah, you looked fucking terrified for your life, dude. Lots of people can identify with that. So…what’s the situation, exactly? Ever since uncle Hideo got voted out two days ago, I’ve been treading water, trying to catch up. I never expected to be elected a CEO. Not in this decade, anyhow.”
Roger Kuchiki ran his fingers through his short, black hair, and smiled. It was a happy smile.
“I have no idea what you expect me to do about the boycott campaign,” Byakuya finally answered. “It hurts my profits every bit as it hurts yours.”
A crafty expression flickered across the face of Roger Kuchiki. “I’ll need your public cooperation and some kind of a statement of reconciliation with the family, or at least the company. There is no other way I can call the dogs off.”
“Call the dogs off?” Ukitake straightened up, a dawning of understanding apparent in his eyes.
“Yeah, dude. Who do you think started the whole boycott to begin with?”
XDXDXD
He walked down the street without seeing or hearing; only after he ran into a light pole and said a distracted “Excuse me,” did Byakuya become alert to his distracted state. This was no way to talk to his current boss - and yet, so much had happened, he knew he’d be addressing Shinji Hirako’s concerns from a position of strength. His assets would be unblocked by the end of the week and 6th Element would pay out all royalties owed to him, Rukia, and Ichigo. The war was over.
He leaned against the wall of Shinji Hirako’s office building; the sun might have moved to the other side of the street, but the stone still radiated heat. He basked in the warmth that soothed his knotted back and shoulders despite the oppressive temperature and humidity.
He had to settle. Relax. Breathe.
The grey eyes drifted to half-mast, not quite daring to shut while relaxing amidst the busy urban foot-traffic.
Only after his back cracked, did he peel himself from a wall that others would find oppressively hot and entered the cool, air-conditioned office of Shinji Hirako’s landscape design company.
“Byakuya! Come in. What can I get you? Coffee? Tea?” Shinji waved him to follow him to a small kitchenette.
“Water is fine, thank you.”
“Yeah. It’s sweltering out there. I was out checking on the crews.” Hirako filled two tall glasses with ice and water from the tap, and motioned Byakuya to follow him to his office.
“So, we need to talk.”
The tension began to creep back, knitting the muscles in Byakuya’s back together again, and he exhaled, willing it away.
“Yes?”
“Yeah. You may not know it, but we are totally swamped with work because of you.” Hirako’s smile lacked warmth as he showed his prominent, even teeth. “Apparently, since you are a celebrity now, having the mulch spread by your elite hands is considered a status symbol of sorts. Have you noticed anything odd at your worksites?”
Byakuya’s eyes widened at the revelation, but he remained composed, bending his mind to the behavior of Hirako’s clients.
“The owners used to be away when we worked,” he finally said. “Now, the lady of the house tends to be home. There is usually something going on…I have seen the occasional friend or two on the patio, sitting and gossiping.”
“And observing you. You may not realize this, but our customers ask for you by name. Are you really so oblivious as not to notice these things?” Hirako leaned back in his leather executive chair, an exasperated laugh bubbling up from his chest as he twined his fingers behind his head.
Byakuya’s veiled gaze slid to the side. “Well…”
“Well what? Spit it out, man!”
“Some of the ladies insist that I drink their iced tea or their lemonade…there have been some who asked me to autograph a tabloid. Some ask me about personal matters, but I refuse to discuss these.”
“Yeah! That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I had to hire extra people to form a third team because our volume is so high. You’ll be reassigned from shoveling dirt to just showing up and being nice to the ladies. Make sure to hit each worksite once a day and just be social. Nothing too involved, don’t worry - just, drink their iced tea, talk them out of stupid gardening decisions, stuff like that. Like, we have people who insist on growing roses in dappled shade or who insist on scorching azaleas in full, blazing sun. They won’t take my word for it and wrestling with them is a pain in the butt…if you could steer them straight, it would help me a great deal.” Hirako eyed him with greedy speculation. “You are, after all, a master gardener.”
The tension gripped Byakuya’s back with full force. “That seems like a bad idea. I am not suited to being a social butterfly.”
Hirako’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you needed this job.”
Byakuya’s lips quirked up the slightest bit. “About that…no, not anymore. My situation will be resolved by the end of the week. I was hoping we could finish my rooftop garden, actually.”
“What, you mean you caved?”
“No,” Byakuya corrected his landscaper. “I never ‘cave’. Perhaps we should coordinate our schedules, though.”
“But I need you!” Hirako moaned. “All these people want you, personally!”
Byakuya rose. “I shall think about your problem. Give me a few days. In the meanwhile, I need to attend to affairs I have been forced to set aside.”
XDXDXD
Byakuya had been neglectful of important things, and set to with a will in order to remedy the error of his ways. The leftover salad in the refrigerator would do well as a filling for his Vietnamese spring rolls. Rice cooked as he cut up colorful vegetables and fragrant herbs before moving onto preparing two bottles of iced water and two bottles of electrolyte mix. And a sweet snack…he rummaged through the pantry, retrieving an unopened package of Mint Milano cookies. The rice timer buzzed and he turned off the heat, letting the rice rest while he changed out of his ‘business casual’ attire and pulled on his biking pants and a jersey. He glanced at the clock…Renji would be home in minutes.
The silver, heat-reflective backpack was already filled with a blanket, their four bottles, two oranges and the baggie of cookies. Byakuya’s nimble fingers packed and rolled the next-to-last spring roll; the last roundel of translucent rice pasta had been dipped in water long enough to soften and be transformed into recognizable food. Rice, chicken, red pepper, scallions, basil…tuck and roll…and the door opened.
“Byakuya? You home already?” Byakuya could see Renji’s routine without even peeking around the corner: park the bike, take off his shoes, dump his backpack in the corner.
“In the kitchen!”
Then Renji appeared, his brows drawn together with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Byakuya withheld a smile, still focused on placing the last spring roll into a bento box.
“Why do you think there is anything wrong, Renji?”
“You’re home early and you’re cooking. Did you…if you got sacked on account of those tabloids, I’ll take it up with that pretentious asshole myself!”
Byakuya placed a lid on the second bento and turned around, his arms sliding up Renji’s shoulders. “No, nothing bad has happened. I do have some good news, but first I’d like to invite you on a nice, long bike ride with a dinner by the river.”
Renji’s eyes softened as he smiled, relief clearly written over his face. “Oh. Okay. Yoruichi said we should fit a few long rides and hill workouts in before the race…”
“She emailed me both of our workout schedules.”
“Oh.” Renji paused. “Did she say anything else?”
“Nothing of importance…”
Not counting the fact you almost drowned, trying to go upside down underwater…and her sense of humor is severely misplaced.
“Oh.” Renji experienced a twinge of guilt for being so self-conscious about his failings. He was doing great for a novice swimmer. His technique might have grown by leaps and bounds in the pool, but there were practical skills to consider that he had never even heard of. Treading water, for instance - it was harder now, with much less body fat.
“I had some trouble in the water today - but it’s all resolved now. I’ve learned some useful things.”
Grey eyes warmed with a genuine smile. “I am glad, Renji. You are doing well.” He paused, stumbling over words that would not come easily. “I could not be more proud of you.”
Then Renji’s face came very close to his; their noses touched, their lips brushed, and Renji embraced him, exhaling into his hair. “That means a lot, coming from you.”
“Never doubt it.”
Two hours and thirty-five miles later, they were sitting on a blanket by the floating dock. The spring rolls were enjoyed in moderation - neither of them was too hungry after a long workout. The oranges had bit the dust, though, and so had some of the Mint Milano cookies.
“So let me get this straight,” Renji reiterated, to ascertain his understanding of the situation. “Your uncle Hideo was voted out, and your cousin Roger was voted in, and he’s willing to work with you?”
Byakuya’s eyelids fell. “More than that. Roger wants me back in some kind of an advisory capacity. He’s almost done with his masters in economics, and he had been studying part-time for the last few years, so taking over the company would endanger his academic standing. However, he did quit his other job as a sales coordinator. This might work out well for everyone.”
Renji frowned, dismay in his every word. “But you were so happy, working on your seaweed slime and stuff! What about your new product line? All that work you put into it…” He paused, stopping in mid-rant. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just, I don’t want you to go back…”
“Renji. I am not going back all the way. This is for only two years or so. And, I will be with you. We are together and nothing will ever change that.”
The red heat that crept up Renji’s neck told Byakuya that he hit the nail right on the head.
“I am so selfish,” Renji sighed.
“Yes. Well. About the Seaweed Ambassador, Roger agreed to examine the business concept. He might even use it for his final thesis topic.”
“Oh.” Renji nodded, then he smiled. “That’s ideal. Except for me being selfish, of course.”
“You’re supposed to want me to stay.” Byakuya’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Would you pass me one of those cookies, Renji?”
Renji stared.
“You have eaten spring rolls with hot sauce in them without complaint, Renji. I, too, have to be willing to try new things every so often.”
XDXDXD
Their bikes were racked in the utility room and they had showered, and were now sitting in canvas deck chairs and sipping gin and tonic with lime. Renji marveled at the way they were together, enjoying the last of the quiet evening. Two large candles burned by their feet, their flames shielded by glass pillars.
“I’ll have to finish the outside of this deck,” Renji said, eyeing his handiwork.
“It looks beautiful. Before you do that, though, let’s ask Hirako to fill these planters with something green. So far, all we have is that one sakura tree.”
“And you wanted a koi pond up here, as I recall,” Renji teased.
“Yes, Hirako and I have already discussed it. The roof is rated for it, there should be no problems…I had expected to have to settle for a rectangular cistern made of dry-stack blocks, but it seems that he can install almost any shape we design.”
“Nothing wrong with rectangular cisterns,” Renji murmured.
“No.”
They finished their drinks in silence.
“Renji. There is this thing Hirako wants me to do. It is rather awkward…” Byakuya paused, before he launched into his tale of woe.
“So they want you to just show up and drink over-sweetened iced tea and give out Byakuya Kuchiki autographs?” Renji grinned. He was well aware of his partner’s private, almost introverted nature.
“Yes.”
“And what did you say?”
“I have informed Shinji Hirako that I no longer need the job.”
“Ah.” Renji swirled the remaining ice in his glass, enjoying its cold sound, debating whether to make another round. “And how did that bit of gun diplomacy go over?”
“I was merely stating a fact.” Byakuya’s eyes tensed.
“Yes - to a man who gave you a job when you needed one.”
“My presence alone increased his business volume twofold, and he has clients on a waiting list.”
“Exactly!” Renji exclaimed. “And if you flee because you can’t stand sugar in your tea, all those new clients will flee with you, and he’ll have to fire the new people he just hired. You know how these things go, Byakuya.”
The older man wiped a strand of midnight hair from his face in a gesture that betrayed uncertainty.
“My company was so large, I never had to do any hiring and firing. So, no. I do not know how it goes. However…” his eyes were black in the night, contrasting against his pale skin. “Do you truly think that the families of my newest colleagues would be affected if I just left?”
Renji rose. “Think about it, Bya. I’ll go make us another drink, and you sit here in your penthouse and think back to the time when your assets were frozen and it was so hard to come up with liquid cash. Most people live like that every day.”
The second gin and tonic was almost gone, sipped slowly in tense silence.
“Perhaps I could work out a compromise with Hirako,” Byakuya offered. “I could commit to go to a certain number of client visits per week. And I could refuse the horrid tea.”
“We could leak your favorite tea recipe to the media,” Renji quipped. Byakuya only groaned.
“The thing is, Renji,” he said, draining what was left in his glass. “That sonovabich Hirako said he wouldn’t finish our rooftop garden unless I helped him out with his fucking publicity problem. If I agree to do it, he’ll hold it over my head.”
Renji swirled his ice some more, marveling at the way his partner’s vocabulary increased after only two drinks.
“Well that’s easy,” he said. “We’ll make it known that you’re a true prince among tea drinkers. In fact, you hold proper tea ingredients in same reverence as natural and organic ice cream ingredients and you will drink nothing but the best. Your fame as a picky tea drinker will spread. You will educate the masses! And then, when you’re ready, you can introduce them to the Seaweed Ambassador product line. This is sort of like building your own business, but sideways.”
I love you, Renji.
He wanted to say it. He really, truly did, but the words got stuck in his throat and he coughed a bit as his hand reached through the dark, moist air and touched the larger hand of his partner. He felt Renji’s warm fingers slide between his, and forced an exhale.
He felt like he was the luckiest man alive.