Author's Note: SPOILER THROUGH MANGA CHAPTER 422.
Disclaimer: BLEACH IS OWNED BY KUBO TITE. AUTHOR OF THIS STORY DOES NOT OWN ANY PORTION OF BLEACH.
Apology Accepted
by Songsparrw1
Ichigo returns after the Winter War, and finds peril of another kind waiting for him in the home of a formerly trusted friend. How will he handle this new challenge?
Rating: T for romantic involvement
Footsteps echoed in the lonely street. Ichigo's breath ghosted ahead of him in the cold stillness. Hands stuffed in his pockets, the tall former substitute shinigami paced quietly alongside the deserted park. As far back as he could remember, the night had been populated by an occasional lingering soul. Tonight, there were only cats and nighthawks. A dog barked somewhere in the distance. The bright half-moon lit the indigo sky and its faint veil of haze. Ichigo's eyes picked out a lone star, which winked from across the vault of indigo. He wondered whether he was being observed by the shinigami on duty, or if Imoyama san was snoring on a rooftop in the newly won peace.
Passing the park, Ichigo strolled purposely to the home of his latest rescue. Orihime had shyly approached him at lunch and asked him if he wouldn't mind stopping by the apartment after dinner. Both her request and her demeanor had puzzled him. She didn't seem herself; she was not blushing, and there was no smile in her gray eyes. She had simply stated that she needed help with the algebra worksheets. He tried to imagine the meticulous note-taker needing his assistance with any of the make-up work they'd been assigned, aside from carting the huge stacks home. Nevertheless, he'd agreed to stop by. He made his way to her small apartment, alone with his thoughts. He had plenty of time to think, these days: time to catch up on missed schoolwork, time to reflect on the war, and time to adapt to life as a teenager, one that can't see dead people.
Orihime looked up from her paper and sighed. It had been dark for a while now. Night seemed endless. The remaining stack of make-up work dwindled steadily as she filled the empty hours with page after page of neat figures. Oochi Sensei had sternly instructed her friends to complete the missed work or repeat the year. Urahara Kisuke's "tragic bus accident" fabrication was genius. The nakama would be able to resume the school year with a minimum of censure, and Rukia's absence was cleverly covered. Only Tatsuki, Keigo, Mizuiro, and a few others knew the truth, and they had responded to it with an odd mixture of curiosity and disbelief.
She reached for another book, but let it slide back onto the table. She put her aching head on her arms and closed her tired eyes. She didn't feel like working anymore. She felt like crying. Her mind kept returning to an image of two silent figures, one tall, one short and dark-haired, standing toe to toe, both looking away. . .
A loud rap at the door caused her to jump and spill cold tea. "Oy, Inoue, it's me!" A familiar voice rang out. She had been caught completely off-guard. There was no trace of the once unique scent of Ichigo's reiatsu to warn her of his arrival.
"Coming, Kurosaki-kun!" she called out as she hastily mopped the table and ran to the door. "Come in!" she said, smiling up at him. "I was just finishing the math. I'll get us some tea."
"That would be nice, Inoue" he said absently, as he removed his jacket and dropped onto the floor cushion next to the small table piled with books. He noted with suspicion that the worksheets in view appeared to be complete. He frowned as he puzzled over the situation, wondering why she'd gone to the trouble of arranging such a private meeting.
"Or some cocoa? Maybe some cocoa would be better, eh?" Orihime's distracted voice trailed from the kitchen. She busily mixed the cocoa, sugar and hot water on the stove and arranged a tray. Unseen by her guest, her hands shook as she worked. Ichigo flipped idly through the CD cases on the floor, looking for something to play.
"Anything's fine, Inoue!" he agreed politely.
She returned with a small try of plain cookies, bean paste, and steaming mugs of cocoa. "You and that bean paste again" he snorted, more to himself than to his friend. Taking a hot mug gratefully in his cold hands, he thanked her. Settling back, he sipped his cocoa and waited. She sank onto a cushion across from him and sipped her mug, stealing a look at him through the steam. After a moment, she set it down carefully and took a deep breath. He noticed the mug shaking almost imperceptibly, and his frown begged a silent question.
"Um, well, I guess you must be wondering why I asked you to come over tonight," she began, tentatively.
"Well, yes, I did sort of wonder about that, Inoue, he replied. "…since your math is already finished," he thought to himself.
"I, well, I need to... apologize to you, Kurosaki-kun."
"Apologize for what, Inoue?" he asked, a sinking feeling beginning in his chest. He didn't always understand these talks about feelings and apologies. He had lots of feelings, but chose to work on them with as few witnesses as possible.
"I caused everyone so much trouble." Her eyes were on her hands, which twisted in her lap, and she glanced to the side. "So many people got hurt, just to help me, because I got captured," she continued miserably. She rose and faced the dark window. Tears dripped from her chin as she spoke.
She continued in a stammering, half-sob: "Kurosaki kun, I am so very sorry! Ulquiorra said he would kill all of you if I didn't defect. I d-didn't know what to d-do! I thought I could s-stop him somehow, or at least ruin his plans, and, and, and then, later, when I thought he k-killed you… " At this, her face twisted into a silent scream, arms across her stomach, breath squeezed from her slight frame. "I couldn't heal you, and I thought you were d-dead, Kurosaki-kun! It's- it's all my fault, that you had to turn into th-that FORM, and hurt Ishida-kun! And now, your p-powers are gone, and, and Kuchiki-san . . .!" she wailed, voice trailing away to snuffling sobs.
Shocked into action, Ichigo jumped up from the floor and started toward her, but froze at the mention of Rukia's name. Glancing over her shoulder, Orihime saw at once his stricken face, and the pain in it. Her worst fears were confirmed, then. She turned away, burying her face in her hands. She sank into a sobbing heap on the floor at the foot of the window, finally overcome. He loves Rukia. Her jealous heart burned in her chest like a thousand needles of ice. The reality hit her like a fist in the stomach. For me, he had lost Rukia, lost his powers, lost his ability to protect those he loved. Despite all he'd endured, and all he'd risked, he was alone again. Ichigo and Rukia would have no life together on an equal basis. He was an ordinary human again, and their bereft and vulnerable friend Rukia had returned to Seireitei, no longer assigned to the World of the Living. Rukia had risked Soul Society's punishment yet again in order to rescue Orihime, and she'd been brutally run through by Kaien's hollow-espada Aaroniero for her trouble.
Ichigo stood frozen three feet from the window, and helplessly watched Orihime's breakdown. He would rather face an espada's resurrecion, than see his friend crying like this. He didn't know what to do here. Was she having some sort of delayed reaction to the kidnapping? Was Inoue losing her mind? His alarm outstripped the near overwhelming desire to bolt. Instinctively he turned her shoulders with great care, as one would straighten a lily bent by the rain. He dropped next to her on the floor, and drew her close, wrapping his arms tightly around the small body wracked with sobs.
"Inoue? He spoke in a low voice, "Inoue, please look at me." He pried her hands away from her face, gently untangling them from the fragrant silk of her hair. Her face, slick with tears and snot, was clearly mortified. Lifting her chin, he carefully wiped her tears and dripping nose with his fingers and then onto his jeans and shirt, grimacing only a little at this slippery wreck of her face. Her wet gray eyes regarded him fearfully, searching his eyes.
"I know everything, Inoue. There was nothing you could have done by yourself at Las Noches. Why do you think we all came to get you? Nobody wins alone. Don't cry anymore, okay?" He rearranged the wet strands of hair covering her eyes, and tucked her head protectively under his chin, hugging her tightly again.
Her arms snaked slowly around his waist as she relaxed. She was like a sleepy child in his arms, limp, and warm. He patted her back.
"Shh, shh" he whispered as he rubbed her back, until at last her sobs subsided to hiccups. They sat for a long time, lost in their embrace, and each in his own thoughts. He couldn't help but notice the pleasant soft weight of her against his hard muscles, and the flush of color in her cheeks under the wet eyelashes. Heat radiated from the heaving bosom pressed to his chest.
Ichigo the young man had never held a woman before. He remembered the sweet golden softness of his mother when she held him as a small boy. Her hugs healed anything, and made his world right. He'd missed those hugs, but somehow this felt entirely different. He was the comforter to this small body in his arms, barely bigger than his sisters, but this closeness made him feel bullet-proof. He kissed her gently on the forehead and eyelids, relieved that she seemed to be calming.
"You don't h-hate me? She murmured into his shoulder.
"What'd you say? He pulled away to look at her, uncertain of what he'd heard.
"Because of, you know, um, Kuchiki-san?" She asked in a miserable voice, still afraid to look him in the eye.
"What about Rukia?" he asked in a very quiet voice as he looked at her steadily.
"Well, you um, lost your powers, and, and now, well, you won't be able to fight with Kuchiki-san, or even see her," she finished haltingly.
"Yes, that's right, Inoue," he answered slowly. His lips twisted into a wry grin, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
"Kurosaki-kun, why are you so sad? Is it because you – Do you love Kuchiki-san?" she whispered at last, voicing her deepest fear. Do you hate me now?"
" I don't know, Inoue, " he said in a quiet voice. "I'm not very good with all this stuff. I don't know what I feel, exactly." His gaze seemed to wander to a place beyond the window.
Orihime stood suddenly and muttered something about a tissue. She avoided looking at him and seemed to shrink from the room.
After a long moment, he stood, and cleared his throat. He could do this; he WOULD do this. He stepped resolutely in front of her, blocking her exit, took her hand in his, and rubbed his thumb absently over her fingers as he spoke. "I do know one thing, Orihime," he said in a voice thick with emotion. At his use of her name, her downcast eyes snapped to his face. "I don't want to lose any more friends." He gripped her shoulders with both hands, and bent to look directly into her eyes as he spoke.
"I forgive you for anything and everything, on one condition only. I would do it all again, knowing everything I know now. But you must promise me-no, Orihime, SWEAR to me, that from this day on," he shook her gently to emphasize each word, "that you will never, ever, leave me again, without saying goodbye." The husky quality of his voice and the anger in his eyes electrified her. She could feel his breath on her face. Her knees buckled and she thought for an awful moment she would faint from shock.
"I- I d-didn't, Kurosaki-kun" she stammered, gray eyes wide.
"You didn't what? What do you mean, you didn't?" he growled.
"I came to say goodbye to you, Kurosaki-kun, and you were um, asleep, in your room, but your sisters were there, but Ulquiorra said he would know if I told anyone I was saying goodbye, and I almost kissed you, then, but I couldn't " she blurted.
"Kiss me? You were going to kiss me?" his eyebrows and his voice rose. The memory of Ishida explaining the bracelet and the blackmail raced through his brain, and screeched to a halt at the idea of Inoue choosing him out of everyone to say her final farewell to her earthly life. She chose me? Not only that, but she had wanted to kiss him? This was definitely frightening new territory for Ichigo.
She bit her lip, embarrassed, and her brimming eyes dropped underneath impossibly long lashes. He noticed the bitten lip starting to bleed.
"Stop that!" he chided, cupping her chin and rubbing his thumb across the very soft, pink, lower lip, now rounded in a shocked O shape. His thumb was sticky and fragrant like her lips. He licked it experimentally before drying it on his jeans. Ideas swirled in his head: he imagined her bending over him while he slept, close enough to kiss, and their closeness underneath the moon shining in the window still filled his senses. The sweet scent of her pink lip gloss and silky hair made his mouth water. It all made him feel a little dazed…Those lips fascinated him. He wondered what it would be like to hold her in his arms and taste her mouth at the same time. His mind was spinning; his heart pounded as he took it all in. His body was suffused with a powerful but unfamiliar longing. Suddenly, realization exploded like a rocket in his overloaded senses. Am I in love with this girl?
His heart lurched, and he knew exactly what he was feeling. All at once he felt powerful, invincible, desperate, and vulnerable. He was high, he was flying, and his stomach flipped the way it did when he did his first flash steps; he was transformed. He felt empowered and it all became clear to him. Orihime, watching the changes in his face, stood very still. His signature smirk returned suddenly, and his eyes gleamed with intent. He crushed her to himself. Breathing in deeply the scent of her hair, he sighed, and released her only enough to look fully into her startled face. With a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, he said, "Now, tell me, again, Orihime, exactly why you decided not to kiss me?" he murmured slyly. He couldn't wait to hear her explanation. He looked at her expectantly, and chuckled as she blushed crimson.
"I didn't want to kiss you without your permission. It would be wrong to take Kurosaki-kun's first kiss that way. " she demurred.
"My first kiss, huh? How do you know that, Orihime?" his eyes seemed to glow from a deep fire.
"Oh, I didn't know, Kurosaki-kun! Um, I just didn't think that, you liked anybody that way, " she said, as she tried to draw away from his scrutiny.
"Orihime, if we're going to have a conversation like this, about something like kissing, and who I like, don't you think you should call me Ichigo?" he murmured softly into her hair again.
"Only if Kurosaki-kun thinks it's alright," she looked away from his intense gaze, and tried simply to breathe. She thought her heart would explode. He was laughing at her! He wasn't angry; he didn't seem sad anymore. He looked happy, and he would not let her out of his arms.
"What was that, Orihime? Say again? Say my name," he whispered against her cheek, unable to resist teasing this precious, funny girl in his arms - he felt so good, and so happy...
"Ichigo" she breathed.
"Okay, good. Now, please kiss me, Orihime," he commanded.
She gulped, and very slowly, grazed his lips with hers. He returned her kiss gently, and then watched her reaction before kissing her lips again more deliberately. Her gray eyes shone beneath heavy lids. She closed her eyes and sighed against his lips. "Oh Ichigo!" she breathed. I thought I lost you."
"I'm right here, Orihime, where I want to be, with you" he finished. He kissed her again, and held her tightly, until they both had to stop to breathe.
At last, he released her. He grabbed his jacket, stood by the door, and said, " I have to go now, Orihime. You need to sleep, and we both have a lot of work to get done." He turned to go, but she caught his wrist.
He turned, smirking. "What?" he said.
"Good night, Ichigo. See you tomorrow," she bounced up on her toes to reach his lips and kissed him quickly.
At this, he snagged her around the waist and pressed her to him with a deep chuckle, kissing her again. "Good night, Orihime, sleep well," he smiled and disappeared down the steps. She closed the door behind him, and sank to the floor against it.
"Whew!" She hugged her knees and blushed again. "What did we just do?"
Outside, in the cold night air, a young man strode down the street, whistling. Above him on a rooftop, an unseen violet-eyed shinigami smiled tenderly, as a single tear made its way down her face.