Inspired by a chat with DelMarch, in which she gave me two characters and a number, Hiyori and Orihime, the number being 56. Corresponding the number with one of those 100 prompts tables that are on LJ, that gave 'indirect'. Hence this fic. Enjoy.

"No, no, no, no, no! Yer can't do it like that! It's too… too… Urgh."

Sarugaki Hiyori threw her hands up into the air in frustration. Ichigo was a touchy subject for her, seeing as she still viewed him as the 'idiot protégé who really, really doesn't know what he should be doing'. And she was not the person one normally approached for advice, so now that she was approached, and on such a touchy subject (with subject in this case being the equivalent of topic) with such a touchy subject (Subject, Object… Grammar rules and such. Though in this case, Ichigo would be the 'object'. But subject sounded cooler in any case.), it was not a good thing. Really, it was not.

But then again, the advisee was not the brightest of sparks. (But at least she was not stupid, so that in itself was a rank above our dear and favorite, or not so favorite Ichigo.)

"It won't work, ya see? Ichigo's a thickhead. Stupid, ya? Like S-T-U-P-I-D stupid. Really, really dumb. He's dumber than most other guys, ya know? Guys, they're stupid, but Ichigo, he takes the cake. He walks away with the title of idiot of the generation easily. What ya wanna do? Na. It won't work. Not a chance, Hime-san. Not a chance."

"Ano, Hiyori-san… Then what do you suggest I do?" Inoue Orihime wrung her hands anxiously. (Well, not really wrung, but the action was similar to that. Orihime was really too unique to be described in normal human language, so wrung would just have to suffice. Too bad.) She was running out of time to solve the problem at hand, and as proof of exactly how desperate she was, she had approached Hiyori.

Then again, Orihime did not have the most fantastic of judgments, so it was possible that Hiyori was the first person she had asked. And yes, in this case, it was. Simply because there was now no other effeminate influence in the Vizard downstairs secret training room which looked like the one that Urahara had other than a certain Sarugaki Hiyori.

Lisa had absconded off somewhere with goodness knew what book or manga it was that she was reading nowadays, Mashiro was bothering Kensei, or so Orihime had been told by Shinji, and neither Rose nor the aforementioned blond Vizard (Oh gee, they were both blond. She just realized.), were females, no matter how much they tried to be. (Dude… Frills, long hair and the obsession with fashion? Uh huh.)

"Now, ya see? What yer trying ta do, it's too indirect. Wouldn't work. Ichigo wouldn't know a friend from an enemy even if it slapped him in the face and exuded reiatsu. Really. Ya see? It's too indirect. Ya need to slap him in the face with it, and then move to push your point even further by completely trashing him. That's the only way ta get ya point across with that guy."

"With Tsubaki-kun?"

"Hey, Onna! Who the hell are you using as a tool? Huh? Huh? Huh? I'll show you, you ungrateful wench!"

Popping out from seemingly nowhere, while actually, all of those present knew exactly where that mysterious nowhere was, Tsubaki looked angry. Then again, he always looked angry, so really, that did not count. (That perpetual scowl on his face reminds you of anyone?)

"T-Tsubaki-kun!"

"That's enough, Tsubaki. You should not be so…"

He restrained himself from raising the finger at her, only because he did not feel like getting in trouble with Shun'o, Ayame and all the others. All the same, he scowled fiercely, voice taking on a threatening tone.

"Huh. Right, Shun'o. Whatever. But you better use me properly, I tell you, Onna. I don't want to be shot out like no half-hearted shit."

"H-Hai, Tsubaki-kun."

"You better."

"Now, that's enough, Tsubaki."

"Fine, fine." Rolling his eyes, Tsubaki shot yet another warning glance at Orihime, before the two little sprite-like things disappeared back into her rather amusingly fragile yet powerful hairclips.

"Exactly." An almost feral smile came to Hiyori's face after the rather amusing exchange between Orihime and two of her Shun Shun Rikka. Her zanpakuto sheath was no longer attached to her belt, and she was using it to gesticulate as she continued.

"That Ichigo needs to be slapped in the face, and I'd give ya a slipper to do that with, but I've only got two, and sue me, but I need my slippers to walk. Speaking of which, Hime-san, ya gonna have to work fast. Ya would wanna get ta him before anyone else does, because once they do, ya won't be able to keep a hold of him."

"B-B-But how, Hiyori-san?"

"Just go now, Hime-san! If ya lucky, ya'll catch Ichigo before dinner! That's the best time ta break the news to him! Men and their stomachs, ya know?" A grin came to Hiyori's face as Orihime looked much happier (and about to leave). (Hiyori did have her limits, and since Shinji had been extra prick-ish that morning all throughout training, she had been in a rather bad mood. And she was still in a rather bad mood. Thus the violent tendencies and the want to see someone getting hurt. Someone by the name of Kurosaki Ichigo.)

"Arigato gozaimasu, Hiyori-san. I'll be sure to keep what you said in mind!"

"Ya welcome, Hime-san. Good luck ta ya!"

Waving Orihime to leave, Hiyori smirked. This was going to be very interesting. Very interesting indeed. There was a slight pause, however, as Orihime stood there, looking conflicted and indecisive all at the same time. It would have been cute had she been ten years younger or more. But all the same, since she was Orihime, it was passable. Barely passable.

"Ano, Hiyori-san?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you really sure I'll need to use Tsubaki-kun to persuade Kurosaki-kun to try my new curry?"

"Abso-freaking-lutely. If even Shitface Shinji who eats anything refused a second round, ya can be absolutely sure that yes, ya gonna need as much luck as ya can get."

"Oh."