AN: :) Uhmm... Well basically I do not own BLEACH, and I hope you enjoy this story :)
"ORIHIME! RUN!" Sora's shriek ripped through the sticky evening air.
Five-year-old Orihime looked at her brother who lay crumpled on the wooden floor of their small house. A crimson pool of oily blood was spreading sickeningly around him. Orihime could feel her stomach flip. She slowly shook her head. She wasn't just going to leave him here, to die alone.
"GO!" Sora's cry snapped her back to reality.
"N-no. I w-won't leave you… I won't l-let you send me away." Tears threatened to spill, and Orihime rubbed her eyes with her small fists.
"Orihime!" A warning shout. Orihime could suddenly see why. She turned, her small figure shaking uncontrollably.
A tall, dark figure stood in the doorway. Orihime could not see his or her face for a mask, carved into that of a tiger's head, covered it. Orihime gulped. She could see the ominous glint of a sword hilt, and the several other weapons Orihime didn't know the name of, not that she even wanted to.
"Move, brat." Orihime knew the figure was talking to her, but she didn't move, instead she ran towards her brother, and stood in front of the limp form, trying to shield him from whatever was to come.
A deep chuckle sounded from the masked figure, and Orihime could feel sweat trickling unpleasantly down her back, between her shoulder blades. She reached out a small hand towards her brother's and took it, holding on to it tightly.
The figure approached her, and with each step Orihime shrank back a little more, all her instincts telling her to run for her life, but she stood her ground, waiting apprehensively for whatever blow she was about to receive.
A fist was raised, and Orihime clenched her eyes shut. A smack sent her sprawling to the other side of the room, and she coughed as she hit the wall. She reached up a hand to her forehead, feeling an unpleasantly sticky substance, and drawing her hand away, it was scarlet. She wiped it carelessly on her pristine white dress, and scrambled across the room once more towards her brother who had yelled when he saw her being flung across the room.
"NO! Orihime, stay back!" He screamed at her.
Orihime didn't. She watched in horror as she drew nearer and nearer, the blade of the sword coming down upon her brother. He had been too distracted by her he hadn't seen it.
"SORA!" She screamed, her voice cracking with the strain. Warm liquid sprayed her body, soaking parts of her long hair. She stood rigid with shock and fear, as she heard her brother shout out in agony, dying. She ran towards him, and held onto his hand. When life left a person, it wasn't a slow fading light, it wasn't by degrees, it was instant. As though someone had pulled down a shade on a window.
…
Orihime knew she had been lucky really. A neighbor had taken her in, and had cared for her. For a while anyway. Then one day, and old lady had come to tea. Orihime could remember being fascinated with her appearance. She had been wearing a lovely kimono adorned with bamboo trees that swayed in the imaginary breeze, the greens had all been shaded slightly differently, making them unique. She had been transfixed. And then she ha looked up into the old lady's face and had gotten the shock of her life. It had been like stroking a dog, only to find out it had a lion's head. The old lady was ugly, disfigured by ugly burns, and one of her eyes had been a brilliant electric blue. Orihime had not said anything; she had been brought up better than that.
She had been sent to her room, but she had later snuck down and listened in on their conversation. They had, it turned out been haggling over a price for her. She had listened, while her world came crashing down. First her brother, and now not even her neighbor wanted her anymore. She was going to stay with a scary old woman, who, Orihime had been sure at the time, was a witch.
The neighbor then told her to pack her things, which she had done quickly. Her mother's locket, her father's watch which didn't work anymore, a few garments of clothing, her brother's dagger, and several pictures of him.
She had then bowed deeply to her neighbor and had thanked her for letting her stay. She had slipped on her shoes, and had followed the old woman into a rickshaw. She had sniffed, and wiped her eyes dry on the journey. The old woman had told her to stop it, so she had.
She had arrived at a small, but very grand looking building. Little streams slithered through the gardens, flowers blossomed everywhere Orihime looked, and cherry trees decorated the pathway towards the entrance, where wooding carvings framed the door. Orihime had had the butterflies, but she picked up her small case, and walked along the path towards the doors.
…
"Orihime… Orihime… ORIHIME!" Orihime sat up suddenly. Crack. Her head collided with Hinamori's, sending the girl sprawling half way across the room.
"H-Hinamori-chan! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Are you all right?"
Hinamori looked up through watering eyes, but smiled.
"I'll survive Orihime." She looked at the door through which she had come. "Auntie said I should wake you up, you're meant to be practicing your fan dances, and if you don't get up now, you're not allowed any breakfast."
Orihime rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and stretched yawning loudly.
"Okay, okay… I'll be right there." Hinamori nodded and left, leaving Orihime to get changed.
Slowly Orihime prized herself out of bed, and made her way over to the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, and tied her hair up into a sloppy bun. She brushed her teeth, and quickly changed into pale blue robes, and toeing on her slippers, rushed down the stairs to eat.
…
Orihime Inoue was Rangiku's apprentice. She wasn't perfect, but she had the willpower to keep trying, instead of giving up. She was clumsy, so her fan dances were her worst. But she was definitely good at making conversation. She was sweet, and charming and nobody could ever say no to her when she started talking about silly things like fairy tales she had heard as a child. She had a smile that relaxed their customers, and made them pay more. She could charm even the grumpiest of men, by making them laugh at something she did clumsily. She made people smile.
"Rangiku-san… Can we be finished for today? Please?" Orihime's grey eyes pleaded with Rangiku's azure ones.
"No slacking, Orihime, you know the rules, now try it one more time, and then I'll let you go home, okay?"
Orihime sighed.
…
"We're seriously going to a teahouse? You're not joking are you? I can't believe it." Ichigo growled out.
"Kurosaki. It would do you good to get out more. All you do all day is plan out your next plan of attack strategies, then you go out onto the battlefield, and come back all lifeless, like you've never seen anything worse. This would take your mind off things." Ishida said reasonably. Chad nodded in agreement. Ichigo glared at him. Trust him to take Ishida's side in this.
"So we're going to pay a bunch of high-class prostitues to-"
"They are not prostitutes Kurosaki, they are geisha, there is a difference." Ishida said haughtily.
"No. There. Isn't." Ichigo ground out, through gritted teeth.
"There is." Chad said unexpectedly, and somewhat unhelpfully. Ichigo simply glared at him.
"What time is it anyway?" He asked, not that he was interested, he reassure himself.
Ishida smirked in triumph.
"It's going to be about half past eight, nine o'clock. I knew you'd be interested." Ichigo sent a well-practiced glower in the archer's direction. Ishida simply grinned back at him.
"Fine, fine I'll go, just don't expect me to act interested in this thing." And with that, he stormed out of the room.
"He'll get over it." Said Chad, with a small smile.
…
Orihime stared down at the array of make-up, and began to paint her lips a ruby-red colour. Orihime hated the crimson colour. When she looked at herself, her chalk white face and her red lips reminded her of blood in snow. She set down the colour, and reached out for her hair ornament, a string of beads reaching down like a waterfall. She set it in place firmly in her bun, and surveyed herself, without much interest, becoming distracted by a squirrel jumping from a tree. A wry smile crossed her face. She stood up, smoothing out the creases in her kimono and made her way down the stairs towards the entrance where Rangiku was already waiting, dressed in a black kimono, with a crimson dragon making it's way up her legs. She held a blood red parasol in her white hands, and tutted at Orihime when Orihime forgot hers. Orihime quickly retrieved it, and then they made their way towards the teahouse.
…
When Orihime was a child, she had sometimes snuck out and watched the geisha all piling into the small, but striking looking teahouse. She had liked the colours, and had sometimes counted them. There was turquoise, royal blue, ocean green, autumn gold, plum purple, carroty orange, cherry red, onyx, clouded silver, mauve, cherry blossom pink, snowy white, mercury and leafy green. The way they would move, as though drifting had fascinated Orihime too, the way they made their way so gracefully, and she had felt envious of them for being so lovely.
Now she looked up at the lanterns that lit their path and smiled slightly. She could make out some children watching them in the bushes, and from the treetops.
She bowed when they saw the mistress of the teahouse, and slipped off her zori, and followed Rangiku into a small room, where already a few customers were kneeling on cushions around a table laden with food and tea. Orihime went around the table bowing deeply to each individual and wished them a pleasant evening. She then seated her self next to Rangiku.
Orihime gazed dreamily out of the round window, watching as it suddenly began to rain, and the light reflections shone like bright stars. A nudge in the ribs from Rangiku brought her back to reality. She looked at the entrance, and watched with interest as a three more customers made their way through the door, and bowed deeply in apology for being late. She couldn't help feeling slightly intimidated by one man with large muscles, and dark curly hair which hid his eyes. The other she thought looked polite enough, his blue eyes looking around in respectful interest at all the faces around the table. The third, she thought looked fierce, but she bit her cheeks. He had a funny face. She took in their clothing, and suddenly the situation wasn't so relaxed anymore. She took in their daggers and a sword. She could remember a sword swinging high in the air, coming down to kill her brother. The air caught in her throat making it hard to breathe.
"Orihime, please let me introduce Sado-san, Ishida-san, and Kurosaki-san." Rangiku indicated each in turn, and Orihime forced herself to smile and nod politely. "Everyone, this is Orihime, she's a geisha in training so please forgive her if she gets anything wrong." Orihime nodded again and bowed deeply.
When they were seated Rangiku bent down to Orihime and whispered in her ear, "Neh, Orihime, do you like any of them?" And she cackled as Orihime's face reddened.
"R-Rangiku-san!" Orihime inched further away from Rangiku, and in doing so her head collided with Kurosaki Ichigo's. A sickening thud resounded through the room. Ichigo clutched his head in pain, while everyone else pretended they had noticed what had happened, and the steady buss of chatter continued, with laughs disguised hastily as coughs puncturing the conversations. Orihime's eyes were wide in shock, and she looked mortified.
"K-Kurosaki-san, I- I'm sorry!" Her hands covered her mouth, and she looked like she was somewhat fighting the urge to laugh. His expression was amusing her. He really did have a funny face.
"D-Doesn't matter, Orihime…" He bit out, wincing and rubbing his head.
More to distract him than anything else Orihime asked, "Are you from around here?"
"No, my family lives in Karakura, you probably haven't-" But Orihime interrupted him.
"Karakura? Really? My brother and I were growing up there, but my parents both died so we moved here, to Mombetsu, and I've lived here ever since."
"Oh…" Ichigo paused, then, "Why aren't you living with your brother?" He immediately wished he hadn't asked her.
Her eyes dropped, and her hands clenched her kimono, turning her knuckled white.
"My… My brother was murdered by a samurai…" Her eyes misted over.
"N-no, don't cry!" Ichigo said hastily. "I'm sorry I asked, please don't cry!" He cast an anxious look around the table. Thank god nobody had noticed. Ishida would personally kill him, if he found out he had made a girl cry.
Orihime sniffed, then beamed at him.
'Freaky mood changes. But I guess that's women for you.' Ichigo thought silently.
"Neh, Kurosaki-kun – do you mind if I call you that?"
"No."
She smiled at him.
'How much does this girl smile?' He wondered.
"Are you a samurai? I couldn't help noticing your daggers and your sword."
Ichigo nodded. He hated the way it was obvious what he did… Killing.
"When I was younger I wanted to be a samurai you know." She said conversationally.
"What stopped you, apart from you br-"
"Well you see, the thing is…" And here she took a deep breath. "I couldn't lift the sword."
Ichigo looked into her eyes and was suddenly reminded of quicksand. They drew you in, and trapped you, and Orihime wasn't even aware she was doing it. Her ocean eyes were drowning Ichigo out at sea.
FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED!