Disclaimer: This plotline is obviously stolen from The Terminator, which does not belong to me. Bleach also doesn't belong to me.
The Ulquinator
Inoue Orihime liked her job a lot. It was a bummer that the cooks wouldn't ever let her help out in the kitchen after that last time, but the customers were fun to talk to and often gave her very big tips, especially if they were men. That was nice, if confusing, since she did often tend to mix up orders and several times had accidentally dropped someone's dessert in his lap.
Orihime was pondering this mystery and filling a few glasses with water when the other waitress, Chizuru, grabbed her around the waist. "There you are! I hope that murderer knows I'll rip apart anyone who touches my Princess." Her glasses flashed fiercely.
"There's a murderer?"
Chizuru spun Orihime around so that she could see the television in the corner of the cafe. "Look!"
The reporter was standing in front of a house with a door that had been torn away, and the news feed on the screen said, "Inoue Orihime, 32, murdered in her home this morning."
"That's so sad!" Orihime was dismayed. "I didn't know there was another Inoue Orihime in Karakura town. We could have been friends, and then when we met new people she could say, 'I'm Inoue Orihime' and then I could say, 'I'm Inoue Orihime!' and—"
"Excuse me," called her customer, and Orihime forgot about the news report and rushed over with the glasses of water.
He gave her a huge tip anyway.
Orihime had just plopped down comfortably onto the sofa after a long day's work when the phone rang.
She picked it up, and a voice said, "Hey, baby. I've been thinking about you all day. Thinking about your tongue on my tattoos, your mouth on my—"
"Hi, Abarai-kun!" Orihime tucked the phone under her ear and began flipping channels. "What was that about your tattoos?"
"Oh, shit—Inoue! Shit, I'm sorry—damn—uh, is Rukia there?"
Rukia took the phone, and eventually Orihime heard her roommate talking about licking Abarai-kun's tattoos as well. As the sounds from the couch grew louder, Orihime thought maybe it was time to go for a walk.
Before she left, she glanced at the news on her cell phone. There had been rumors that her favorite pop star was going to get engaged, but the news didn't say anything about that. She noticed, though, that it did say another Orihime Inoue in Karakura town had been murdered: that was so very sad! The three of them could have all been friends and gone out together and then when they introduced themselves to people, it would be like they were triplets! Kind of.
Orihime buttoned her sweater and stepped out into the street.
It was chillier outside than Orihime had thought; luckily, though, she'd remembered that the sewing supply store that Ishida-kun liked so much was just down the next street, and it was always open late in the evening, even though today, like always, she was the only customer there. Orihime picked up a crochet pattern: maybe this would make a good present for Ishida-kun? He was always making her clothes, after all, which was very nice of him.
Suddenly, the shop filled with screams and burning aqua light, and Orihime ducked under a display of falling yarn.
"Orihime Inoue," said a deep voice drawing nearer to her. Orihime looked up: the owner of the voice seemed to be a mime, or maybe a clown, with a paper-white face and aqua marks running down from his eyes.
The clown-stranger grabbed Orihime's wrist, pulled her to her feet, and began to form a ball of that same aqua light in the palm of his hand. "Woman," he intoned, "you must be terminated."
Then someone else shouted, and a wave of black light (was that possible? Black light? With kind of a red edge) slashed through the store. Someone else grabbed Orihime's other hand. "Come with me if you want to live," he said, in kind of a low, burbly voice. It probably sounded so strange because of the mask he was wearing, Orihime decided. The mask had red stripes on it.
Perhaps there was a circus in town?
The clown with the aqua lines on his face was just getting to his feet, but then there was another wave of black light and then everything got very confusing.
Orihime felt a vague sense of disappointment as the shop blurred into the distance. She'd always kind of had a thing for clowns.
Orihime sat next to the mask guy (now without mask) on the rooftop. It was kind of uncomfortable, really; now, if there was a cushion to sit on, that would be better and then you could be comfy and look out at the whole of Karakura town and the pretty aqua bursts of light that were appearing here and there.
"So, you see," the mask guy, who'd introduced himself as Ichigo, went on, "Aizen sent the robot, Ulquiorra, back in time to kill you, so you could never have the baby that would become the leader of the human resistance. Which I'm a member of," he added proudly.
"Do you have mecha in the future?" said Orihime with interest. She remembered the picture she'd drawn of herself in middle school, as a robot with cannons for arms. "Like the kind of mecha where you can sit in the pilot seat and make the mecha walk and then have fights, with swords?" She made a pose to demonstrate.
"No!" said Ichigo, running his hands through his bristly orange hair. He scowled. "Look, Ulquiorra is trying to kill you!" He paused. "But I'm gonna protect you, so don't worry."
Orihime had an idea. "Maybe I can just promise not to have kids."
Ichigo sighed again and heaved his big sword onto his back, where it stuck there apparently by magic, or maybe magnetism. Perhaps he was a robot too. "We gotta find a place to stay for the night, so let's just check into a hotel and go over stuff again in the morning."
Orihime woke to a pair of bright aqua eyes.
Ichigo was still sleeping on the floor beside the bed, clutching his sword to himself and muttering something about horses. Orihime herself had had quite an interesting dream about horses just a few nights ago.
"You're here to kill me, right?" Orihime said, sitting up.
"Correct," said the clown guy—well, robot—as he formed the glowing ball of teal light in his hand again. "You must be terminated."
"But you were just watching me sleep before," she noted. "You could easily have killed me then, but you didn't."
"That is irrelevant," said Ulquiorra.
"So, logically," said Orihime, "you can wait a bit longer to kill me, right?"
Ichigo grunted in his sleep and rolled over.
Tatsuki sat down heavily by Orihime's bed and, looking around at the others, said, "I . . ."
"This was not supposed to happen!" said Ichigo, pacing around the foot of the bed. "It's not even possible!"
Rukia kicked him in the shin. "Either say something helpful, or be quiet."
"But it's not a problem, is it?" said Orihime.
"He's a robot," said Ichigo, for the hundredth time.
"Clearly it is possible, since it has occurred," said Ulquiorra, who was looking out of the window. "Your reasoning is flawed, human."
"I think we should call him Ulquiorra junior, don't you?" said Orihime, tucking a fold of blanket into the bundle in her arms. Aqua lines stood out starkly against chubby cheeks as the baby frowned, possibly considering whether to burp or not.
"Do not forget, woman, that you are to be terminated," said Ulquiorra.
Ichigo scowled. "No, she isn't!" He reached automatically toward the mysterious large sword-shaped package he'd brought into the hospital.
"You cannot defeat me," said Ulquiorra, drawing back his hand. The aqua light began to grow again in his palm.
The baby started to cry.
"Now look what you've done!" hissed Tatsuki. "Go outside if you're going to fight like idiots."
"I cannot leave—" Ulquiorra began, at the same time that Ichigo said, "I'm not leaving!"
Oblivious to the chaos around her, Orihime was singing a quiet lullaby to the baby in her arms. If one listened closely to the words, it seemed to involve giant robots.
A/N: I'm . . . so sorry for this fic. Like always, I want to say that I only make fun of characters out of affection. Mecha-Orihime is my hero, for real. And yeah, I know everyone's horribly and violently OOC, but it's crack, after all! Actually, I wrote this aaages ago and then I was like, "This is too silly, even for crack," but then I re-read it and I was like, "Well, I chuckled, so might as well post it." So . . . enjoy!