Another tear slipped down the wet path her other tears had already painted down her cheeks. She drew in another breath of air and held it behind lips pursed so tightly they were white. Her muscles tensed until the soft cords of her tendons stood out. She was in so much pain...
How long did she have to endure this torture? How long had she already been tangled up in this trap? Minutes, hours, days?
Orihime uncurled her fingers from around her injured leg. With trembling fingers she touched the metal cord wrapped around her ankle. A massive electric jolt passed through her system. Heat exploded inside her nerves. The girl's body writhed on the ground in complete, pure, and undiluted agony. Her two wings straitened from her back. Her feathers twitched and ruffled as the spasm passed through the massive appendages. The angel clawed her fingers into the soil and whimpered miserably. Another electric jolt shot through her system, mangling her efforts of self control. A high pitched scream flew from her lips and for a minute she forgot about trying not to be found. What did silence matter anymore? These traps had alarms in them. As soon as she had fallen victim to this contraption, heaven's enemies would have been undoubtedly notified. Demons had to be running up from the darkness to claim her by now.
Why wasn't she been more careful? Orihime had been warned that the demons set these kinds of traps. But had she been paying attention? No of course not. She had just been daydreaming about red bean paste again. Down here on earth, the forest leaves were a beautiful orange and red color. She just couldn't help but be reminded of the delicious meal. Even though she had flown down from heaven to see the autumn colors she still found herself thinking about her dinner. Baka… But it had still been such a lovely day. Her blue summer dress flowed around her thighs as she had walked through the woods. Her wings had been folded nicely into her back making her look like an ordinary human. It was a precaution incase she met any hikers. Her long auburn hair kept getting caught in the feathers though. She brushed it over her shoulder where it hung at her waist. She really should have tied it back today. That slight and meaningless annoyance was her last thought before that happened. Her petite foot fell onto the next place of her path and she heard a metallic click. Orihime froze. No way. That couldn't be... had she stepped on a...on a demon's trap? They set mines in forests and mountains where flying was difficult for angels. They weren't always the human kind where they simply exploded. Where was the sport in that? Demons notoriously wanted to collect their prizes alive. They could use them as prisoners of war for the fight between heaven and hell. Or just to have the pleasure of killing them with their bare hands.
Orihime debated with herself. Right now, it was only her body weight holding this trigger down. If she flew fast enough, she could be out of range of the mine before it activated. She shoulders rolled forward and she sunk into a ready stance. Carefully, she unfolded her bird-like wings from her back. She stretched the white appendages from her body, letting them hang suspended. One, two, three... now!
She leapt up into the air. The mine clicked back into place but she was already far above it. The canopy of the forest loomed closer with the speed of her flight. Yes! I did it, I'm free-!
Then, a heated metal chain shot out of the patch of leaves. It circled around her ankle faster than she could blink. An electrical shock zapped through her core. Her wings folded in midair and she plummeted back to the ground. Orihime banged her head against the forest floor. Sticks and bark starched her scalp. Underneath her lithe frame, she could hear the sharp snap of one of her wings twisting painfully. But that pain was nothing compared to the jolts of energy berating her senseless.
And so she lay there on the dirt ground waiting for her demise. The beautiful angel turned her head when noises pushed their way the brush of the terrain. They sounded like footsteps. She tried to sit up but the burning in her body refused to grant her such luxuries. Orihime listened as the parade of sounds drew closer. Was that a human? She doubted one would be able to undo this hideous mechanism. A human would be of little help to her now. Her breath came out in unsteady puffs and her hands were shaking. The footsteps were singular. It sounded only like one being, but with the way branches were snapping, he had to be unnaturally strong. The approaching person was too powerful to be human. The angel smiled shakily and chuckled to herself. Thank goodness it wasn't a human! She didn't want any to be around if the demons came. A single demon could easily wipe out a small human militia with ease. No one should get hurt because of her.
Oh wait, if that wasn't a human then it's probably a demon, right? Orihime could just see it now: tall, dressed in black, and carrying a wicked smile bent on making her suffer.
The bushes rustled on the other side if the path. The little angel just lay there helplessly. Ever so slowly, a full-fledged demon emerged from the thicket like a shadow. Orihime stared. Elongated bull horns sprouted from his head. Light breaking through the canopy illuminated his mask. Orihime instantly recognized it as the demon clan's bone warrior mask. It covered his entire face in a wall of white and red decorative war celebration. Maybe the red stripes weren't paint: maybe they were the blood of angels. Black sclera surrounded yellow irises in those eyes of his. They echoed a palpable feeling of danger.
Dropping into shock over the demon's appearance caused her precious guard to drop. Another mechanical shock of demonic energy pierced through her. The angel's back arched against the ground. White lights danced in front of her eyes. Her jaw clenched together and a strangled moan echoed out of her throat-"Make it stop! Save me, oh please save me!"
The demon jumped forward. As Orihime faded into her unconsciousness, all she saw was the color orange. It was not the leaves though: it was the color of the demon's hair.
(((((-))))
When Kurosaki Ichigo emerged from the woods into the cleared path all he saw at first was the angel. She was lying on her side, arms and legs tucked into her center. White wings stretched from her back. One was at an unnatural angle. He winced behind his mask at the mangled sight of it; he could only imagine it was like breaking an arm. The angel's gaze swept over him, inhaling his appearance. They grew large and her mouth parted incredulously. Then, they locked eyes. He parted the bushes before him but kept out of the open space. She moved her arms beneath her in a sad attempt to push herself up. Long hair fell over her shoulders like auburn liquid. He was pelted with a sudden and alien longing to tie threads of it around his hands.
The metal coils at her leg made a sharp noise. Sparks emitted from the foreign binding and he could visibly see a jolt pulsing into her. The angel threw her head back and a wail pealed out from perfectly sculpted lips, "Save me, oh please save me!"
Ichigo snapped out of it. Out of what, he wasn't quite sure, but now wasn't the time to think of that. He shoved aside a branch and leapt forward. The angel's brown doe eyes widened by a fraction then rolled back in her head. She slumped lifelessly to the ground.
"Shit!" he roared. She didn't just die. This angel couldn't have...not when he just got here...
Ichigo shoved his hands into the scattering of oak leaves surrounding her. Dirt and soil flew out as he dug into the ground. The demon's hand suddenly brushed against a buried portion of the vile cord. A spear of agony shot through his body. The man's muscles shuddered and his breath emptied out of his lungs. The force was enough to knock him back a foot. Ichigo recoiled and stared in disbelief. Shock rushed through his veins and a wave of dizziness flooded him. What the hell was this? Snare traps weren't always like this were they? They were just supposed to hold the prey in place, not torture them!
The angel at his knees remained motionless. It didn't look like she was breathing either. Ichigo cupped a hand to the underside of his mask and pulled it away. The bone particles dispersed into the air and faded. I can barely breathe with that damn thing on sometimes. The demon plunged his hands into the hole of cold soil again. The switch, where was it? The base of the mechanism had a release, if only he could find it!
The demon dug with a fury he only reserved for battle. He would glance at the beautiful angel every so often in something like an involuntary reflex. Shocks from the mechanism would stun him then he'd be back at it. At last, his claws scratched a flat metal surface. Before he could break and relish in the discovery, he yanked the box from the earth. The underground wiring uprooted in a straight line to the angel. Ichigo flipped the contraption on its side, and before he could stop to think properly, smashed a closed fist through the hull. The whirring noise stopped and the air became dead silent. Ichigo huffed and sat back on his haunches. He looked at the ground. I feel sick...
When the wave of nausea passed, he turned his head slowly to the side. The angel never left her fallen position. Her eyes were closed but now that the struggle was over he could hear her shallow breaths. So she was alive. A sigh of relief passed through his lips.
Ichigo sat back on his haunches and wiped the sweat from his exaggeratedly furrowed brow. He really didn't want to look at the wreckage he had caused his clan's equipment. The scattering of shattered iron and wires over the ground could be seen just fine with his peripheral vision. Jeez, he acted on impulse again. But it was not like had a choice! The cruelty of this trap was on par with the act of strangling a kitten!
A string of curses stained his tongue as he muttered everything he knew. The man took a long fingered hand and rubbed the nape of his neck. His job was only half done. Ichigo remembered the mission clearly: come up to the World of the Living, find the angel that had triggered the alarm, and bring the wretched thing back down to hell. Normally he was sent to fight the warrior class of angels whose armies surged like the tide against their defenses. This job was a crude waste of his skills. He could travel fast and make critical decisions in battle. He had the strength to level and defeat those of the higher classes. Yet orders were orders, especially when they came directly from the top. The redhead had expected to find a burly, fierce, and brutal angel. All of angels Ichigo had ever seen were of the soldier types. Warriors like him. Warriors who could withstand pain and relish in it.
Not what he found instead.
Ichigo moved closer to the sleeping stranger. He considered replacing the mask of his title over his face, but decided against it. There was a time and place for everything; the need to install fear was simply inappropriate now.
His hand hovered over her body. He was able to hear her pulse; there was no other reason for him to be touching her. No reason other than the want to touch her. Ichigo froze at that conclusion. He then pulled it back as though the limb had been caught by the teeth of fire.
At his knees, the angel breathed steadily. He had been so consumed in saving her that he hadn't paid any real attention to her. Long lashes fanned impossibly smooth cheeks. Her hair was almost a striking a color as his, if not a few shades darker. Blue barrettes on either side of her temple shined like the sky. What color were her eyes? He couldn't remember, damn it. And that body! The hard surface of the ground elevated her natural curves. She was flying temptation to a level even demons couldn't succeed. Idiot, don't think like that!
So instead, he focused on her injuries. He counted three obvious ones at a glance: Her broken wing, her bleeding temple, and the burn on her ankle. She wouldn't be walking or flying for a while at least. He growled not unlike that of a beast. Why didn't he carry bandages with him? Was that because he was always the attacker, rather than the savior?
Ichigo closed his brown eyes. Damn this confusing situation...
Helplessness eroded his thinking process. He wanted to be busy doing something for her, not just sit around whining at what he couldn't do. If Ichigo didn't carry supplies with him then he'd just carry her to where there were such necessities. He changed his position again. Ichigo slid a calloused hand under her. The web of his finger snagged in the collar of her shirt. The fearsome demon pulled his arm back with a shout that shook nearby birds from their perches. Jeez, his hand almost touched…his hand almost went down…there…
Ichigo combed a clawed hand through his hair. This should be simple: a man carrying a woman. Happened all the time to humans, right? Damn it, why was he so heated?
Ichigo's private mortification suddenly found a different route. How could he have just tried to pick her up without thinking? She was injured, damn it! How could he be sure that if he picked her up, her mangled wing wouldn't move the wrong way and worsen? How the hell was this going to work out?
Ichigo stepped over her to inspect the status of her broken limb.
The wing stood out at a sharp angle. It attached to her shoulders in a weird blend of porcelain skin and white feathers. Downy soft fluffs ruffled at the bases of her shoulder blades. They looked like the tufts that baby chicks were clothed in. But the further along the wing, the larger and sharper the feathers became until they were nearly as long as his arm.
Some of these feathers stood out in disarray like broken spokes of a hand fan. That must have been where the break was.
Ichigo probed the roots, trying to find sharp edges of bone. Suddenly his hard face softened. The frown thinned and he released a stream if breath he had kept entrapped in his chest. Her wing wasn't broken! The angel's wing had just popped it out of the socket. Painful, yes, but permanent, no. This would be an easy fix.
The demon, Ichigo, steeled his resolve. Very carefully he entwined a steady grip on an outer branch of the wing. He flinched but held on. The warrior didn't know that she would be as soft as a baby rabbit. It unsettled him that he liked it so much, as if he was already planning other ways to hold her in the future. Ichigo shook his head to keep any and all thoughts at bay. Somehow the giddiness of finding out her injuries were not as severe as he had first thought made him relax a little too much. She's still hurt you idiot...
Ichigo refurnished his grip. He reached over and secured her shoulder. He counted to three, lost his nerve, and then started again. On the last count the demon pushed and lifted. An audible pop filled the clearing. The tiny female angel slept on, expending only the faintest of sighs when the task was complete.
Ichigo could be found across the clearing trying to clear his head. On all fours, he wheezed and panted. It was not as if the action had sucked away his strength. The emotional toll on him cut into his precious reserves. He bowed his head until shadows masked his eyes. It had been easy to fix that for her so why was he responding like this? Why was he getting so emotional? Was it because she was hurt? Was it because helping her had been as easy as it was to freakin' break her?
Ichigo looked to his side. Parallel to his was the girl, this stranger who elicited such responses from him. Was she breakable? No. She was vulnerable, yes, and lustfully so. Yet her defenselessness was not without a second thought to it. The electrical shocks had been enough to render even him temporarily immobile. As far as he knew, the alert for her entrapment had been activated over two hours ago. To be unconscious from exhaustion was something short of a miracle given that anyone else would have died long before. The only reason she was still here was because she was stronger than most. Not as if Ichigo was slow to come, but rather the snare's owner was late in giving an order for him to go and retrieve. Bastard, Ichigo internally thundered. He was amazed by the raw anger that pulsed through him. The mere thought of anyone hurting this girl out of simple disregard was reason enough to refuse anything short of a beating.
She had held out for all that time. She didn't deserve it. Ichigo stood up. A new determination upheld his gaze. He walked over to her. Again he knelt at her side the way he'd seen humans paint images of prayers to angels. Ichigo gently wedged his arm underneath her body's upper half. The dark being elevated the girl and her head fell back. Brown hair flowed like silk. Not wanting her to strain her neck, he hurriedly tucked it between his chin and sternum. Ichigo was just reaching for the angel's knees when the woman suddenly stirred. He jumped. Damn. He really did wake her. And what a friggin' position to be in too: with her practically on his lap!
"Hmm," her lips fluttered against his neck. Hot breath spilled like bathwater over his skin.
"U-um, hey, listen I wasn't going to do anything! I just—" He gasped as her thin arms floated up around his neck. Those infamous mounds squished into his hard frame. The angel's perfect face nuzzled in the bend beneath his sturdy jaw line. Her limbs once again relaxed against his. Ichigo's collar suddenly felt too tight.
He responded by hugging her tighter. The warrior drew himself to shaky feet. He began walking in a different direction than from which he came. As he did, the strange thought came to him that the package in his arms was probably the most precious cargo he had ever carried.