In his twenty years of life, Ichigo Kurosaki had faced many different things.
Purse snatchers, Hollows, a Shinigami consumed with raw power. And the Quincy King; who coincidentally just also happened a God.
But this? He curled his left hand into a fist, sneaking a glance at the pretty – beautiful – woman walking beside him. The dress she wore, while simple, complimented her frame. It was flowing, blushing pink, and very Inoue. She had done nothing to style her hair, allowing it to cascade down her back in waves of auburn that swayed as she walked. Had he been only a little closer, just a little, those silken strands would brush his arm.
"You shouldn't make such a nice girl wait so long."
His breath caught in his throat as she caught his gaze, and her lips spread into a warm smile he knew she reserved only for him. Every time he saw that smile he felt his chest constrict and grow warm.
"Confess your feelings."
His fist clenched and he came to a halt on the sidewalk. Her gaze turned confused, but just as always, she stopped. And she waited for him.
Waiting. She seemed to do that a lot for him, didn't she? She waited for him to gather his nerve to go rescue Rukia. She waited for him to defeat countless enemies. And she waited for him to… save her.
She had probably waited for him more times than he even knew about.
"Kuro- "
"Inoue- "
They silenced themselves, waiting for the other to speak.
She was Orihime Inoue, the real-life Weaver Princess of Karakura. Only her story was not as simple as her namesake. She wove not fabric as the Princess Orihime did in the Tanabata legend; she wove life itself.
And he looked at her. Really looked at her.
Tonight, like all other nights, she looked…
Beautiful.
His eyes flickered away from her face at that moment, down to her gentle hands holding on to the light shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Those same hands had saved him on more occasions than he could count on both hands. They had saved family, friend, and even foe. They had saved worlds.
What would it feel like to hold her hand in his own? Not as a friend saving another friend as it so often happened, but as a man. He wanted to know. He needed to. And on some level, he knew she felt the same.
If he were honest with himself, he had known for a while.
"Hey, Inoue…"
"Yes?" Her head cocked to the side.
She stood, just within arm's reach.
But could he bridge that gap?
"Confess your feelings…"
She smiled. Not just the smile she reserved only for him, but the smile that he was positive she only gave when it was just the two of them. The smile that said little, but spoke volumes at the same time.
And his resolve hardened.
"Next time, could you make some time for me? There's… something I want to talk about."