Although it's gruesome long months to get this done, I'm so happy to have it done at last! It's the longest story (not by means of chapters but words) I've ever posted until now!
I was picking up novels to read from my bookshelf when I came across one; it's one of my favourites by a Taiwanese writer. I couldn't help but fit the characters from Bleach into the story as I read through the lines; the characters are just so alike! Then I knew that I really have to write it!
A small warning: You may find that you're thinking, "Hey! That's not the characteristic/personality the character has as in the original anime/manga!" or "Hey! The relationships between characters are all messed up!" Yeah, I know that, but sometimes having a major change in characteristic/personality just add more spices to the story! I pretty love it! As for the second question, well...let's say that I'm just fitting someone random into it, except the major ones...?
Another thing is that you may find yourself confused with my story or not getting a clear picture. First, I apologize for such problematic situations; my English's still a long way from being perfect. Secondly, don't fret! I'll give necessary explanations to you whenever/wherever I see fit, just as how I've done in my other fic The Moth Goddess and the Moon Warrior, which by the way - sorry for not being humble - one of my proudest creations. I highly recommend you to spare some minutes reading that.
So without any further delay, here I present to you all...!
El Modelo de Magia
A model? No, no, no (wagging a finger), he is "El Modelo de Magia".
"El Modelo de Magia"? What is that? Some delicacy? A new brand? Or…?
Not a cuisine to be eaten, and could be used in a way,
And most importantly, fall in love with someone—
Only that, he dislikes romance…
A Nightmare. Definitely a Nightmare.
After the bell rang and the door opened, Orihime sucked in a sharp breath and almost choked herself.
Those two scintillating eyes resembled so much as finely polished ambers under the honey-gold sunlight, reflecting sparks in the gems. With a slight cock of the head, they vacuumed people's souls and trapped them. On that head was a fall of hair that was like a heavenly weaving, with the rays of sunshine as threads on the loom.
"Can I draw a picture of you? Can I?! I won't let you sit for very long…ten minutes?! Is it fine with you? Oh, please…" She was paralysed for almost two minutes, and it seemed hard to stumble all those words out of her throat.
Her gorgeous landlady, who was taller than her by a head, blinked, "Ten minutes?"
"Yes! Yes! Please, just ten minutes!" Orihime was so worked up that she grabbed her slender, peachy-skinned hand. "Ten minutes would be more than—no, no—ten minutes would be fine! Oh, please ~ can I?!" Damn it! Why did I only bring my sketchbook and pencils and nothing else?!
A very minute tip of the corners appeared on the landlady's lips, "Alright, come in."
While Orihime was drawing, she was entirely in her own world. All she could sense was only this radiant fair before her eyes, as well as the ecstasy of drawing in high concentration.
The landlady judged her sketch for a couple of minutes and nodded in approval. "Very true-to-life."
"It's not only this simple!" Orihime got more agitated. "It's…it's just not completed yet! If possible, I should use oil paints to contain your beauty…if you can give me a few days—no, a few months—I can…"
"Miss, have you come to rent a room or to draw?" Her voice was deep, captivating her listener.
"To draw, of—" No, no…gah! What am I doing?! "To rent a room! Rent a room! I'm sorry; I-I just…when I'm facing with drawing-related things…I'm just really…"
"You have a year's time." The landlady handed the sketch back. "If you like it here, you'll have the time to draw me."
Orihime was stupefied; she was desperately in need of a house to live in. Even if the house was made of carton paper boxes, which would get all soggy in the tiniest rain, she has made up her mind that she would absolutely, definitely staying in there! Yet…she got a bit intimidated as she glanced at the grand and nice living room.
"This is your room." The landlady led her to a bedroom and opened the door elegantly. "It's formerly occupied by my make-up artist, but I've just fired her. She doesn't have really good tastes. Go ahead and get rid of anything you don't like."
Orihime's jaw dropped as low as possible. A huge bed with a drape falling from the ceiling, curtains frilled with laces, a writing desk and another way-larger make-up desk…it was out of the league of her imagination! However, the walls were filled with the posters of B'z and many other idols and stars who she could not recall their names. They really clashed with the grand room disgustingly.
"Can I remove the posters?" She asked shyly.
"Of course; just do as you like. So? Do you want to move in?" Even though she did not show her smile, she was still so attractive that she was breathtaking.
"Err…my budget…" For the past three months, she was still jobless. All the money she has saved up just would not allow her to indulge in such sinful luxury.
"How much's it? Your budget." The landlady leant against the door frame, showing off her fine slender figure.
"…10…10,000 yen…(1)" Orihime's face was in a new shade of red. She would probably laugh at me for going beyond my depths, right? Argh, if only she has asked about it in the phone call at the first hand…
"Then 10,000." She began to put on her earrings. "Let's sign the contract now. I've got to go on the runway."
"Go…on the runway?" Orihime tilted her head to a side.
"I'm a model." She took out the contract from a file and warned, "Just don't move out within the year."
"No, no, I won't…" Oh-ooh…no wonder she was so pretty…
"I'm Kurosaki; Kurosaki Ichigo (2)." She shook hands with Orihime lightly. Strawberry…huh? What a lovely name for such a perfect beauty like her, Orihime thought to herself.
"Ino…Inoue Orihime. Just Orihime would be fine." She bowed hastily.
"I'm a bit aloof, so please don't arouse any unnecessary disturbances if possible. Also, please don't bring in any men." Ichigo handed the keys to her.
"I'm…I don't have a boyfriend." Orihime flushed red again.
And so, she moved into this palatial house (3). At the first two weeks, there was no space in Orihime's mind to find a job. All she did was drawing her fair landlady (4) feverously.
Ichigo was not one with many words. If there were no fashion shows, she would spend most of the time in her room. The other thing was that the rhythms of their daily routines were different: Orihime woke with the dawn, while Ichigo was still in bed until the sun was in the middle of the sky, which made them only to meet at night. Unless Orihime knocked on her door, she rarely started a conversation with her. However, she never rejected Orihime's requests of drawing her. She would quietly sit by a side, allowing Orihime to draw her apathetic face.
How she wished to use oil paints; linoleum just cannot do it justice. Yet even if they were water paints, she would frenziedly try her very best to oblige in the happiness of drawing. The night when the painting was almost done, she even stayed up without a second of rest to lay down the finishing touches, completing the portrait that she was so proud of.
She slept till midday after working throughout the whole night. Being a lovely sleepy-head she was, she trod into the bathroom like a zombie, only to have her eyes wide as saucers…
Her attractive co-habitant was shaving.
H-ha ha…a-a fair like her has got so much hair on the face that needs a shave? Perhaps she was of mixed blood with a foreigner that—
But on Ichigo's upper torso were strong and flat pectorals.
In the next second, the house was filled with her shocked shrills.
"Y-Y-You…" Orihime shrieked. "You're a man?!"
"What? You've been living here for two weeks and you realized that just now?" Ichigo put down the shaver and checked the smoothened chin. "Lower down your volume; my eardrums are rather sensitive."
"You're always in women's clothes! How would I know?!" Oh God ~ I am living in a house with a psycho?! No freaking way! "Don't you dare to come a step closer, you hear that?! You p-psych…"
"Missy, my proper title's a 'fitting model for women's wears'. Why won't I be wearing women's clothes?" He began to apply skin-care products. "But I've never worn any dresses around the house, have I?" He kept quiet for a moment, massaging his face slovenly. "Besides, which part of me tells you I'm a woman?"
That was just as if honey was not sweet, and men are not thinking over things with the lower half of their body…
"Which part of you doesn't look like a woman?!" She shrilled. "If all men are as good-looking as you are, then what about us?! What about us women's faces and honours?!"
"You'll still have them on your head, naturally." He turned to face her tranquilly. Orihime felt like she was going to have a mental derange. That charming face on strong pectorals and visible six-packs…IMPOSSIBLE! UNACCEPTABLE!
"Put on your clothes immediately! Oh, my eyes!" Her shrieks turned into a howl, for Ichigo boldly removed the towel on his waist. "What're you doing, you sicko?! I'm yet married!" She wailed and covered her eyes.
"Aren't you asking me to wear my clothes?" He put on his attire without haste. "How can I wear my towel in them?"
Her face grew red as a pig's liver, dashed into her room, snatched the portrait that she has spent two painstaking weeks to finish and threw it at Ichigo's face.
"You're giving it to me?" He took it with grace and admired it.
"I'm afraid I'll have mental disorders!" Oh, where has my elegant, angelic yet detached fair landlady gone to?! I am never keeping a picture of a lunatic! "I'm moving out! Return my deposit!"
"Nonsense." He sat down casually. "I'll frame it up tomorrow. Hmm, you've got really good senses in colours…you know how to apply make-up?"
"It's a huge knowledge in the field of mastering colours…" Orihime edged herself closer. "The lines may seem right, but the colours may crash horribly. I've originally planned to draw your makeunder, but I felt that you're more suitable to have some make-ups…it may bring out your cool and noble temperament…"
W-Wait, what am I doing?!
"Hey! What's 'nonsense'?!" She was extremely mad with her easily-distracted character. "It's not an ethic for a single man and a single woman, stranger to each other, living under the same roof! I'm still unmarried!"
"I won't force you to marry me. Besides, I lock the door during the night." He was still very calm in the storm of her rage. "What're you scared of when I'm not?"
Oh, yes, he is not scared—eh?
"Hey! What're you bluffing about?! 'Lock the door'? I should be the one who's locking!" Steam was rising from her ears. "Return my deposit and rent! I'm still jobless!"
Orihime recoiled as Ichigo stood up and rummaged in the drawers for a while. "The contract states that you're staying here for 'a year'. Otherwise…" He shook his head. "I'm not in pretty good terms with lawyers."
Orihime's eyes were nearly popping out their sockets; she has never seen such unreasonable landlords in her life until now. Comparing with him, Kira Izuru was as easygoing as a bodhisattva.
"You…you can't do that!" He is threatening me, right? This psycho is threatening me!
"Yep, I'm threatening you. Don't wear a doubt." He waved the contract in his hand. "I hate finding other tenants, and it's rare to come across an 'interesting' one, I'm not gonna have another."
"'Interesting'…ne?" She smiled coyly. "Well…I'm not that interesting…praising me like that…how embarrass—"
EH?!
"What do you mean?! 'Interesting'?!" Her anger returned in a spark. "You find me funny, right?! Huh?!"
"Uh-huh, pretty amusing." A hint of mirth dashed across his amber eyes.
Orihime's face flashed in a blink from red to green, green to purple till it darkened. Without another word, she zoomed off into her room and with a fling of her arm and wrist, the door slammed shut with a deafening BANG.
Ichigo crossed his arms and sat quietly in the sofa. He has never seen a woman with that kind of speedy changes of their expressions and thoughts clearly written on the faces. Somehow it was like looking at a personal traffic light in your own house, which was an entertaining amusement for leisure.
The constantly detached beauty revealed a barely visible smile on his ever-scowling face. It was a smile that lasted even when he was in the backstage, bearing the tickles of the brushes and the jabs of different sticks.
"You're in a good mood." His agent, known since childhood, noticed the minute tip at the corners of his lips.
"My new co-habitant's…very entertaining." He closed his eyes, allowing the artist to apply mascara.
"She's yet discovered you're a man?" The agent arched a brow in mild surprise.
"It's because she had, then I found her so entertaining." He raised the eyelids. After all these years, her heart still skipped a beat when looking at those orbs, clear yet sharp as ambers.
"After two weeks?" The agent snorted softly. "I'm not surprised; your fairness goes beyond a woman's."
"If all men are as good-looking as you, then what about us women's faces and honours?!" A flashback of her utterly discomfited face from anger, Ichigo's smile deepened to become visible. The artist, having never seen him smile before, stunned at the spot. It was like a frosted peony, whose smile shattered the layer of ice. That was until he looked at his reflection in the mirror.
"How many years have you been a make-up artist?" He asked coolly. "Blue eye shadows?"
"This year's displays are almost cold-colour-themed." She replied sharply in "ALERT" mode. "So what's wrong with blue?"
"Then tell me, what're you going to do with this gold one? In that interval of 0.01 second, you're going to remove the make-up and reapply it?"
Noticing the mood, the agent immediately intervened, "The audiences won't look so clearly, Ichigo…"
"This is your attitudes towards your work?" He stood up. "Starting from tomorrow, you're not my make-up artist anymore; that's it."
"I've been in a make-up artist for over ten years, and none of the models have complained about my make-ups!" She flew into a rage out of humiliation. "You think I'm someone like your slave, calling and sending me away on your whims?!"
"Enough, Michiru." The agent stood in between them. "I'll tell the boss tomorrow, so go and help with the others—"
"Do you know who am I?" The artist hit the roof. "You're only a trivial model, a cross-dressing sicko! You—"
"Enough, Michiru!" The agent finally snapped. After the artist left with furious stomps, she sighed, "You know her relationship with the boss…"
"I don't give a damn to who she's ever slept with." His voice returned to its usual coolness. "My motto is, 'Loyal to your very job, no matter what.' The same goes to you, right, Taki? You've pledged yourself to your job as a gaoler, staying by my side all these years."
"I'm not a gaoler, and you're not a prisoner." Taki said peacefully, her face betrayed no emotions, but the slightest quake of her fingers revealed the truth.
"I'm not?" He ploughed his fingers through his shoulder-length orange locks. "I didn't even know that myself, but you knew it the best whether I'm one or not."
After he has stepped onto the stage, Taki collapsed into the chair weakly. He knew it? When—or to put it in another way—he knew it from the beginning? She sucked and bit her lower lip, but had no intentions to make a call.
Orihime packed her belongings hastily. It was not joking; no one could live in this place with a freaking psycho! Other than being a cross-dressing sicko, who knows what other strange manias he has? Sleeping under the bridge was way better than here with him.
But…she clenched her teeth as she opened her bankbook. Comparing with the unorganized Mizuiro and the out-of-luck Keigo, Orihime has been saving up her small earns from her jobs. She did not take up side-jobs and part-times, but still a bit richer than them. It was just if she was resorted to move the amount stated in that little bankbook of hers, she was always on tenterhooks. Deep breaths…everything is gonna be alright…
She poked her head out and looked around, finally stepped out into the room boldly as she spotted Ichigo's slippers still at the front door. I will not be sued, right? About the deposit…the image of a stack of notes appeared in her mind and she felt a pang in her heart. She walked across the kitchen and took a glance…oh, dear God…
Two weeks of fasting on food and sleep, she has not paid much attention to the other rooms. Left untouched in the sink was a mountain of dishes, which a small universe has started to form. Wonder if there are aliens…?
Such a beautiful kitchen, such perfect utensils, such…such humiliation ~ ! Bewitched, she strolled into the kitchen and grabbed a cloth. Oh God, I am not washing them for him! But…I cannot let these beautiful sets be humiliated!
When Ichigo returned, he almost could not recognize his own house.
Orihime's baggage was still here, so she has yet left. He searched the ground floor and second floor of the house, only to hear a scrubbing sound from the bathroom. Once he opened the door, he saw Orihime, hidden bitterness in those smoky marbles, scrubbing the toilet bowl with unnecessary force in large plastic gloves, "Have you ever scrubbed the toilet bowl? Such a beautiful one, and you let so many filth stuck in it? A thousand apologies aren't even enough…"
"Stop scrubbing. A part-time housekeeper comes weekly to do the chores." It was true; a part-time housekeeper would clean the place weekly, but it was Monday today, and the housekeeper would only come here every Tuesday. Besides, that woman was extremely lazy; vacuuming was the most she would do. Heck, she never bothered to even wipe any of the flat surfaces. But now…it was the first time he saw that his faucet could be used as a mirror.
"The bowl seems like it hasn't been cared for a year!" Orihime cried furiously. "Is she a professional housekeeper? This is her attitudes towards her work?"
Ichigo, originally thought of leaving with a snort, halted because of her words. "…Then, what do you say about it? Who's not slacking with such a hard and low-esteemed job?"
"Says who?!" She threw the brush in rage. "You have to put your heart into whatever you're doing! Slacking? Or else, quit! Someone's pointing guns at her? Who allows her to be a thief of salaries?"
A praise surfaced in Ichigo's eyes for a split of a second. He squatted down, "What do you say if I hire you to do the household chores? If you stay in here and keep the house in a good shape, I won't charge you any rent. Aren't you still jobless? Just save your money as much as you possibly can."
It was really a devil's tempting deal…no rent! All she had to do was to keep this house in cleanliness and tidiness…
"But you're a man…I can't…" Her will started to waver.
"So?" He raised one of his brows from the permanent crease. "I've got no interest in the opposite gender."
He is not gay…is he?
"36D." He stared at Orihime's chest. "Though large breasts, but you're wearing your bra in the wrong way. Forgive me, but I've got no interest in women who couldn't even wear their bra properly." Cocking his head to a side, he shook his head, "It seems that they aren't as huge as they seem to be…"
"Hey!" Orihime covered her chest reflexively with a scared blush. "Where're you looking at?!" Gay…my ass!
"I'm merely providing professional comments. If I want to, you're no longer the 'you' you knew in the past two weeks." He stood up and thought of her belongings downstairs, "Life's no joking games, so you're going home?"
Orihime's heart panged again. Do I still have a place known as "home"…?
"I've got no place to return to!" Her dazed and nervous face was replaced by a sharp snap.
Ichigo stared pointedly at her. "That's good; neither do I, except this house. Go back to your room." His voice was not loud, but filled with authority that one will not dare to retort. As if hypnotized, she obediently put her belongings back into her room.
Wait…no! How come I am staying here again?! She hugged her head, making neither heads nor tails of the situation.
Gradually, she found that there were no difference between the Ichigo before and now: still not much words, sitting in the living room and reading—is that Shakespeare's?—quietly. He would not talk unless Orihime started it, and it was usually she could not bear the silence and initiated the conversation then he would reply concisely.
"…Men don't usually work in this field, do they?" Slowly, her curiosity got the better part of her.
"They don't. Most are fitting models for men's wears." He has put on reading glasses and pulled his shoulder-long hair into a short ponytail, but those never degraded his glamour. The loose shirt covered most of his curves, but the tight jeans showed two long thighs with muscles.
"Eh? So you're saying that there're still men working as models for women's wears?" Orihime was stunned.
"Ah; it's just not much." Ichigo did not tell her that some of them are transgender, like Ayasegawa Yumichika and Charlotte Chuhlhourne, as good examples of the people going beyond the simple level of narcissist. Though he would like to scare the daylights out of her, but on a second thought…better not. He treasures his hearing, thank you very much.
"…Where's the attractiveness of this job?" She could not imagine it.
"Do you think I have good looks?" He removed his glasses and turned to look at her, which made her blush furiously.
"Yes, yes, so good-looking that you can make one red as a cooked lobster!" Oh God, not even the ears!
"I think so too." He dropped his head and turned over a page. "I like to display my beauty. If it's a gift from the gods, then it shouldn't be gone to waste. What other jobs like fitting models for women's wears can allow me to display my beauties to the extremes?"
Orihime's mouth dropped wide; never has she seen a narcissist like him to be so in-the-right and self-confident.
"…You can become a pop star!" She cried.
"I hate singing." He flipped a page again.
"…What about acting in front of the cameras?" Orihime could not believe her ears.
"I hate memorizing scripts."
"…" He is really a sicko! Just for that reason? Orihime felt like fainting…
I had better move out. The longer she stayed, the more she felt her thinking process falling apart. But…moving out requires money to do so, right? She has been finding a job for half a year, and she has begun to lose hope.
Many manga publishers have begun to lay off (5). Even though there were no lay-off notices, they would not fill in the vacancies. She really insisted in her manga dream, and had no intention in doing jobs that do not involve drawing and painting. However, her insistency started to weaken. Looking at her diminishing savings, her fear crept up, although Ichigo no longer needed her to pay the rent.
Things could not go on like this. She lay face-flat on the table in McDonald's, gazing at her coffee rising streams of steam. If it was not too cold right now, she would even save the money from buying this drink. Belch! It was so disgusting that it made her lost all her appetite…
"Orihime? Aren't you Hime-chan?" A surprised voice drummed her ears.
"Chizuru-senpai?" She looked around sharply to find a former colleague and good friend for two years in Karakura Top, but that was before she went to work in another company.
"You're still in Rukongai?" She was thrilled to meet this friend, albeit her freaky sexual orientation.
"I'm on the lay-off list. Lucky me; my boss' given three-month worth of money for me to find the next job, otherwise you'd find me dying in the streets. I've heard you're also fired from Karakura Top but penny-less, huh? Curse that bastard Kira Izuru!" She shook her head.
"That's because…Mizuiro and Keigo took in other jobs from outside…the boss cut out our shares…" She wanted to cry once she thought of being innocently involved.
"You don't know?" Chizuru's eyes popped. "It's not like that at all! Indeed, your team's on the lay-off list, but it's the corruptive Kira who took all your shares!"
"What?!" Orihime yelled.
"He's also taken many others' shares! Shame on him; he got fired too after snatching a mind-blowing 60,000,000 yen! No one can find him, let alone have any idea where he's gone to…"
He even took others' shares! Orihime's eyes reddened with remorse for blaming Mizuiro and Keigo.
"Humph! Leave that jerk aside; have you found a job yet?" Chizuru has been very concerned for her since they first met. After Orihime shook her head, she sighed heavily, "I've found one, but I've never imagined I'd be working in a wedding planner's."
"Designing gowns for brides?" She tested. She knew Chizuru's designs were what made her comics popular.
"A cosmetologist." She laughed lightly at the lovely face of confusion which she loved very much. "It's all the same as before. The only differences are just 'one's on the canvas, one's on a human's face' and 'one's bearing it all quietly, one's howling in pain'…"
She returned home in a daze, curled up in the sofa and got into deep thoughts for a long time, so long that she forgot to turn on the lights.
"What's going on?" It was Ichigo who turned them on. "You've cried?"
"I'm just a bit depressed…" She wiped away the tears on her cheeks. "How could he? I've always admired him, and even called him 'Shishou'! How could he do that to us…"
He patted lightly on her shoulder after listening quietly to her intermittent story.
"Don't be sad. Welcome to the Real World." He let out a long sigh, "It's been like this for a long time, this world. It's never been perfect as you've imagined. Because of the weakness in us humans, it's common for betrayals."
"Including you?" She blurted out moodily, and then realized it was not appropriate to say such.
"You and me? We've never got involved in any entanglements of advantages and benefits with each other, right? How could I then betray you?" He put on his glasses and took his unfinished Othello from the coffee table. "Remember this: if you don't give a damn to anything and get associated with advantages and benefits, there'd be no room for any betrayals."
Orihime digested those words quietly, never comprehended that Ichigo has edged closer to her with an arm around her shoulders.
Explanations:
(1) The currency exchange's 1 HK dollar to 10 Japanese yen as in 2011.
(2) Okay, have this picture in mind: Ichigo with overall longer hair than he has after the Dangai Training; probably reaching to shoulders, as well as being not too muscular, and try to imagine him to have some feminine beauty…mind you! Not too much!
2016 Edit: Now that I've watched K: Return of Kings, I can't help but blend Mishakuji Yukari's physique and some of the narcissism into Ichigo, and I got the perfect model for the story here! Well, don't blame me since they both share the same seiyuu! If you have no idea who I'm talking about, go search for him and you'll understand where I'm coming from.
(3) It's the house where in the original anime/manga the Kurosaki lives, only that this one in this story doesn't have the clinic.
(4) Before any new discover, it'll be a "she" for the time being.
(5) I know as well as you do that it's NOT the case in the real world, otherwise us fans will all go wailing at the loss of great manga…
Author Speaking:
I know nothing about Spanish (I'll learn it after my intensive studies on Japanese.), so after searching several translation devices, I decided on this title El Modelo de Magia, which in English is "The Magic Model". Those who know this mysteriously bewitching language, please tell me if the title's good or wrong.
So, this is the first chaper! We're having our first victim with a major personality change: a kick-ass Orihime! As for Taki, her full name will be revealed in later chapters. For the time now, guess who she is!
What do you think about it? Please leave some comments before going onto the next chapter! I'll appreciate it! ^^
Kuroi Kokoro 09