A/N:
Last minute entry for the Tanabata Festival. Sorry if it's tardy, my eyes are so swollen now I cannot see clearly, much less spot any mistakes.
(7/10/12)
It was such a beautiful scene to behold.
Scattering rain danced gracefully in the air, dropping aesthetically down on scattering pine leaves. Those leaves, while green and pointed on the trees, like sharp swords piercing through the sky, strong and full of life, on the ground, looked like wet brown hays, weak and dead. Yet those weak and dead leaves were what added color to the gray gloomy ground, covering it with warmth and protection against the rain.
Orihime shook her head. What was she thinking about? It was so silly. Why would the ground needed warmth and protection? There was absolutely no use for those pointy, brown, useless, helpless, needle-form leaves. She swept through the leaves with her broom. That was why they were trash, and that was why she was cleaning the ground from those trash.
She halted the movement of the broom, not wanting to disrupt the patterns that, in her opinion, was naturally beautiful and rare to the eyes. Who said that they were completely useless? At least it helped the ground less slippery when people stepped on it.
Orihime tripped as she tried to step on those potentially helpful leaves. She fell messily down the ground, and as she stood up, her hips ached painfully under the attack of the needle-like leaves that now, in her humble opinion ,were completely, and without doubt, useless, and even harmful.
As Orihime shook the rest of the leaves out of the lower part of her light pink kimono and resumed her previous task, she, again, found herself strangely incapable of taking those annoying leaves into the bag and throwing them away. Something about those leaves sparked something strange in her. One could call it compassion; one could call it empathy. No. She shook her head sadly, what made her unable to see them as trash and just dump them away was because they reminded her too much of herself. Weak, vulnerable, completely useless, and totally trashable.
To deny the worth of those leaves was to deny the worth of herself, yet at the same time she could not find any value about herself who was cleaning the trash that nobody even cared about their existence, about whether they were cleaned or not.
To ignore their existence was to reject her own. That was why she could not consider them as trash, could not just brush them into the bag without finding some sort of meaning for them.
Heavy footsteps approached at the gate of the inn.
For a moment she took her eyes off the leaves and landed them on the huge figure that was walking slowly toward the gate. Hiding under the frog and faint rain, it looked like a big mountain that had legs; or a gigantic war robot; those that she saw often when watching anime. Now as it came closer, she was pretty sure it was one of the Titans in the Greek Myths. What was one of the Gods want to do with her? Surely, they didn't want her to clean up their yards up there, right? Maybe, a strong wind blew those pine leaves up...
"Sorry, is this the Super Star Inn?"
Hecules! It must be Hecules, the man, no, the God in front of her. Otherwise, how could a mere human dragged something that big behind his back? Now that she had a really close look at the subject, a huge rectangular box that was covered carefully with a large green cloth, she realized that it had four little wheels, so it made a little more sense of how he moved it. Still, it was inhuman the way he pulled it behind his back with just a short rope.
"Excuse me, is this the Super Star Inn?"
There was no doubt about it. He must be Hecules. Look at his hand which was holding the rope tightly. It was so... how could she say it. So white and smooth and... so long. Oh my god, so long, she had never seen any fingers that long. She was fighting ferociously against the righteous urge to grab his fingers and measure them with a rule to see exactly how long they were. She was enchanted completely by those slender fingers that she could not take her eyes out of them, and she traced her gaze up as the fingers left their post at the handle of the rope and moved up to rub the nose which was emitting a faint snort.
"This is the Super Star Inn, right?"
That was when her gaze met his for the first, and for the first time, she could see clearly the face of the infamous Hecules. Now she was more convinced than ever that he must be the Greek hero. Look at his eyes, and his eyebrows, and his cheeks, and his chin. There was nothing but a masculine figure! And his hair! Oh my god, it was orange, bright orange, spiky orange, exactly like a little sun. Yes, that was the color of the hair that a son of a God was supposed to have.
There was a twitch right at the middle of his broad and high forehead and his eyebrows together formed a solid scowl, a clear evidence that he was really annoying about something.
"Excuse me, is this the Super Star Inn?"
She wondered what could possibly make a son of God be annoyed? But his scowl was so beautiful, so captivated that she was drawn into its power completely and lost her ability to think. His scowl made him look more intimidated as a God, much scarier, yet at the same time she felt warmth enveloped around her body. When she looked at his scowl again, this time she realized that it looked kind rather than scary, and somehow he looked more human than a God.
The God suddenly waved his hand in front of her eyes, his voice was deep and clearly irritated, "Excuse me, Miss, can you speak?"
She looked at him again, totally confused. Could it be that he was talking to her? But why? Why? What did a God really need from her?
She bowed deep, her head almost touched her knees, "I'm so sorry Hercules-sama, What do you need from a lowly human like me?"
"Huh?"
She raised her head and surprised to see that his jaw was hung opened and he blinked. "Excuse me, Miss, what did you just say?"
"I mean, Hercules-sama..."
"Hold on." He raised a hand in front of her, " I think there is a misunderstanding here. My name is Ichigo, Kurosaki Ichigo, not Hercu... something."
Strawberry huh. That would be good for the custard. Strawberry custard sounded so yummy. She made a mental note to try to make it now, tonight. Hold on, but that meant...
"Are you sure that you are not Hercules?"
"Absolutely."
"But you have such beautiful fingers, they are so long and... inhuman..."
A blush crossed his face. So CUTE!
"And your scowl is so...God-like, I mean it make you look so scar...I mean God-like..."
His face was on fire now. Damn her and her inability to form a legitimate sentence.
"And you have so strong of a muscle. You could drag this..huge...thing..." She gestured toward the big thing that was behind him.
"Oh this." His face suddenly brightened. He patted on it affectionately, "this buddy is my best treasure, I bring with it me every time I travel. It had been with me since I was four. We are inseparable."
Orihime looked curiously at his best buddy and treasure, wondering if it was a turtle in disguised, and she concluded that it was not. It looked like a huge rectangular box but now that she had a closer look, it was not quite rectangular, more like a giant long bench.
Seeing her curious star, the man with the named Ichigo took the cloth cover off and revealed a...
HOLY SHIT.
HOLY SHIT! That man was bring with him a piano since he was four? That was inhuman.
"Are you sure you're not Hercules?" The words jumped out of her mouth before she could stop it.
"Absolutely."
"How about your father, grandfather, grandgrandfather, ?"
"Impossible. Our last name has been Kurosaki for as long as I can remember."
"So you are a human?" She looked straight into his eyes, trying to spot any lies.
"100%"
Quite unexpectedly, the man laughed. As he wiped away his tears, he smiled gently at her, "you are such a funny person."
'I don't need a person who was dragging a piano around with him since he was four reminds me that,' she thought bitterly. But she had to admit, he looked so kind with his smile, and again a flow of warm air whirled around her body, a kind of reassurance she had never felt before.
"Really," his voice turned serious, "I have been so stressed lately, but thank to you, I feel much better now." He asked softly, "What's your name?"
"Orihime, Inoue Orihime."
The two were startled by a loud clap behind them, and as they turned their backs around they faced a smiling Urahara who was fanning lazily, "I'm afraid that introduction time is over. Now, my freeloaders, please get to work. We have a mountain of works for you two to do. Inoue-san, after gathering all the leaves to the barn, please help Kurosaki-san settle in his room, then show him around before getting him chopped the woods."
With that, he left, his green robe still swayed a little in the wind before he disappeared completely.
Urahara was a weird person. Technically, he was the owner of the Inn, but for most of the time, he was not here. Or to be more precisely, except for this month, Orihime was the sole resident of this Inn. There was no owner, no employees, no customers, no pets, nothing but a deserted place. But every year, during this month, on a particular day, the Inn was flooded by people for the Tanabata Festival, and Urahara-san came by once or twice per week to check up on things and give orders to Orihime.
Last night, Urahara-san passed by and told Orihime that she would have a housemate who would stay and help her with the Innkeeping. He didn't forget to mention that the new partner, like her, was a very interesting person, plus he had a strength of an ox.
Yeah, now she understood what Urahara-san meant. 'Another weirdo to the Inn.' Orihime sighed silently, though she was pretty sure that no one could pass her in term of weirdness.
XxXx OOO-OOO XxXxX
Ichigo pushed his beloved piano one last time toward the wall. This old Inn was insanely huge although he was pretty sure that the girl he just met was the only one here though. His room was at the other end of the West Wing, and there was no evidence of any customers around here, which made him wonder how Urahara managed to run this Inn for so long.
"Kurosaki-kun, can I come in?"
The sweet voice must belong to Orihime, the weird girl that he just met. He chuckled. She was funny and refreshing. The way she gazed at the pine leaves, the way she stared at him, the way she talked, the way she smiled... all were so innocent and captivating.
He went to the rice-paper door and slid it opened, revealing a flushed Orihime with folded clothes in her arms.
"Here is your clothes to work at the Inn. You can wear normal clothes when you're done with your works."
Taking the clothes from Orihime, Ichigo managed to murmured thank you. Her heated cheeks was a great distraction, and he had to gather all his wits to tear his eyes away from them and slid the door shut quite rudely. Cursing himself for his inability to deal with girls, he unfolded the clothes and tried the blue kimono that he was supposed to wear.
He looked at himself in the mirror. The loose robe could not hide the muscles that formed all around his chest, which he hated. No matter what he did, he looked like a fighting freak.
Now with all the works he would do at the Inn, there was no doubt that those muscles would grow at their full speed, but he could not help it. He had to work for a place to live. To live one dream sometimes we have to give up other dreams. Urahara was kind enough to let him live here for free in exchange of his labor. The room was large enough for his piano and the place was quiet enough for him to practice. This was all what he needed.
There was a knock on the door, and as Ichigo went to open it, it was no doubt also Orihime. This time she was carrying a tea tray with two cups and a plate of cookies in it.
She smiled, "Kurosaki-kun, you must be dead tired with such a long travel, carrying...um your piano with you, so I thought some refreshment will help."
Damn it. Ichigo sincerely hoped that his abnormal strength would not freak her out, but she was nothing but freaked out.
Settling down on the small table at the middle of the room, Ichigo had never experienced anything this awkward. What should he say now? Should he say that she was super cute but really, he needed some space for his own, and it would be very nice if she could leave him alone for awhile?
"You know, Kurosaki-kun," Orihime started the conversation, her middle finger rubbed softly against the cup's handle, "I'm very glad that you will stay here with us." There was a pang in his chest as he spotted the loneliness in her eyes. "There was not a lot of people around here." She paused, like she was wondering what to say. "But I'm glad that you're here." Raising her head, she looked straight into his eyes, her rosy lips curled into a faint smile, "Kurosaki-kun, welcome to our Inn."
He felt like crying. It had been so long since he left home, but today, at this moment, this girl made him feel at home again, like he was belonged to this place, like finally he had a place he could he call home.
So deep in this newfound feeling that Ichigo was completely taken off guard when Orihime asked. "So, Kurosaki-kun, are you a pianist?"
His heart thumped and throbbed. He scowled to keep his calm, and in an unwanted crude voice, he answered her, "I'm a music composer, not a pianist."
"So cool." Her whole face brightened in genuine curiosity, and he was taken off guard again when she asked, "But you can play piano right? Can you play for me a little? I never see anyone play piano before."
Being taken off guard was an understatement. He was too absorbed in studying the cuteness of her face that he answered before he could think properly. "Sure."
How could he tell her that he was more of a natural fighter, that she could throw him on the street full of skilled fighters and he would beat the crap out of all of them; yet he was studying and playing piano since he was four but all he could do after all these years was playing real craps.
Dragging his legs reluctantly toward the piano, he cursed himself again and again for falling for her 'cuteness' trap. Good, she was freaked out because of his 'overflowing' strength and now she would be freaked out again for his seriously lack of talent. He wondered if she would talk to him again after this.
Yet like always, when his fingers touched the keyboards, he couldn't help but smile. His fingers couldn't help but move, to explore the unlimited possibility of putting all the notes together, to create something beautiful from something so simple.
He missed a note.
He missed another note.
The tone was too high.
This time it was too low.
It was all wrong. He was incapable of creating music. He was incapable of creating that moving piece of music he heard when he was a little. All his hard work for the past twenty years was trash. Maybe he shouldn't try something that he was not good at in the first place.
He moved his fingers out of the keyboard. It was impossible. Maybe he should never touch the piano again.
"Wow." A series of clapping sounds echoed the room. "That was wonderful, Kurosaki-kun." Orihime said eagerly, coming closer to the piano. "Your fingers are so smoothly on the keyboard. No wonder they are so long and beautiful. They look perfect on the piano."
He began to feel slightly irritated. This girl knew nothing about music and all she cared about was his fingers! She was narrower than he had thought.
"And the piece you played was so moving. I could almost feel the excitement of summer coming."
"It was about the winter." He said dryly.
"Oh," her voice lowered, "then it must be about a very happy love story."
"It's a sad song."
This girl began to get into his nerves.
"Is that so?" Her voice softened. "Anyway, it was a very lovely piece of music, Kurosaki-kun. You're so skilled with the piano. I'm touched..."
Enough was enough. He stood up abruptly, his hands slammed hard on the keyboards. He had never been this angry before. He loved his piano than anything else in this world, but at this moment he didn't even care that he might hurt it with his hands.
"Do not say it like you know a lot about music." His voice was low and harsh and before he knew it, his hands were grabbing her shoulders. "I played terribly. STOP saying what you didn't mean to. Stop flattering me with your untrue words."
A wind passed through the opened door and breezed into his hair, cooling his much heated head. What was he doing? Why did he get mad at an innocent girl who clearly just wanted to encourage him? He was such a jerk.
He wanted to apologize to her, but then he realized that his hands were still on her shoulders. Her shoulders was stiffl under his hands. It seemed like she was constrained herself from shaking.
He was scaring her.
Tears were formed in her eyes.
He was making her cry.
"I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun."
He was too surprised he didn't know how to respond.
He could clearly see the way her tears rolled down so gracefully on her pale cheeks and involuntarily, he tightened his grip on her shoulders, stopping his hands from moving up to her cheeks and wipe her tears away.
"Kurosaki-kun, I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry that I was so untactful with my words." She raised her hand up to wipe her tears away, which make his hands trailed off her shoulders and returned to his sides. "You must be irritated because of my stupid comments because you must love music a lot." She managed to plaster a sorrowful smile on her face. "I understand because I have something I love with my all heart too, and I think it will find it insulting if someone say wrong things about it."
Slowly, she took his hands in hers, "but Kurosaki-kun, I didn't lie to you. Yes, it's true that I understand nothing about music, and I shouldn't say what I didn't really know. But I was truly and genuinely touched by your music, by the passion you put in every time your fingers moved on the keyboards, by the way your eyes were so lost in every sound you created. I was moved by your love for music, and I think that was what made your music beautiful."
What was this feeling? His heart jumped and throbbed and there were thousand butterflies dancing in his stomach.
She didn't hate him.
She wasn't scared of him.
She cried because she thought it was her fault, because she understood how he felt. She cried for him, not because of him.
"I played terribly, I have no talent whatsoever for music."
"You should never give up, Kurosaki-kun. Because if you give up now I will feel like giving up too. I was so close to the edge of giving up, so please for my sake, do not give up."
"I don't understand what are you saying."
She took a long step and jumped at the table, tripped on the pillow, her hands accidentally pushed on the edge of the table, making it fall down the floor, spilling the cookies all over the place.
Still laying on the floor she quickly grabbed a cookie and then stood up and run to his side.
Before he could even move any muscles or fathom what was going on, she tucked the cookie into his mouth. "Eat it and you will understand."
How could he say it? He had never tasted something this bad in his life. He felt like a hundred volcanoes were erupting in his mouth and as the accursed piece of a cookie found it way into his stomach, he sweared that there were no less than a dozen of raging horses were stomping the soft texture of his stomach.
He wanted to do nothing less than to vomit the cookie and get the horrible taste out of his mouth and his system forever. However, as he saw her intensive eyes set on him, directly at his mouth, and sneaking between the desperation in the depth of those gray orbs was a small light of hope, he could not help but chew the rest of the cookie carefully, trying to find something good about it.
He swallowed the cookie down, deliberately ignoring another dozen of horses racing in his stomach.
"Um, the texture was good. I think the cookie was very well baked with just the right amount of flour and sugar."
This didn't seem to please her since she still looked at him attentively, this time her eyes totally set on his eyes, immobilized his ability to lie.
"And I like the... um... chili filling! It has a very singular taste."
"It was honey mixed with green pepper." She said coldly.
Honey mixed with green pepper! Holy shit... no wonder...
"Um, and I think the use of milk to combine the taste was a good choice."
"It was sour cream mixed with yogurt."
Oh my goodness. His stomach. God took pity to his stomach!
Her eyes were still piercing through his soul, and she gave him a scolding look. He remembered what she said about insulting one's profession.
"Ok, I give up." He raised his hands in defeat. "It was horrible."
"See." Unpredictably, a long smile crossed her face with triumph in her eyes. "I'm a terrible baker. A Much much much terrible baker than you as a pianist."
"No way. I'm worse as a pianist than you as a baker. And I'm a music composer, not a pianist"
"I make cookies that no one wants to eat."
"I make awful music that no one wants to hear."
"No, I'm a worse failure than you are."
"No, I am."
"No, I am."
"No, I am."
When he came to his sense, he realized he was tackling with Orihime on the floor. Their hands were pushing each other's faces away. They looked at each other in the eyes, and uncontrollable laughter broke out.
"Geez, I can't believe that we're battling for the worst failure ever."
Orihime sat up and wiped her tears away, "Kurosaki-kun, seriously, I think that you are a great pianist with a strong passion for music. If someone like you also give up, there'd be no hope for me."
"Don't say it like that. I think that you have great potential. You just need to work on... your taste a little bit. And who says that no one wants to eat your cookies? I'll eat them all."
He picked the cookies on the floor one by one and tucked them all in his mouth.
Heaven forbid him! For the first time in his life he was sincerely thankful that God blessed him with a strong psyche especially his stomach.
One, two, three, four, five cookies, so there were... um five timed twelve... roughly sixty horses raced and stomped and stomped and raced in his stomach now.
Stars. He saw a lot of stars. Maybe that this was the end of him.
His consciousness came back to him as he heard sobbing come from the weird girl.
"Kurosaki-kun," she said between sobbings while wiping her tears with her shelves. "You are so kind."
Then she grabbed his hands and her face brightened with a new determination, "Kurosaki-kun, let try hard together until we success with our profession. I can't wait until that day comes."
Ichigo tried to suppress a sigh. If it took him twenty years just to learn how to use a piano, it might take him another twenty years to master the art of playing it, then twenty more years to be able to write some music, and another twenty years to become famous. As for Orihime... Let's say... not in some hundreds years. He looked at the cookie that was behind the pillow. Apparently, he forgot to pick it up and eat. No, he was wrong. Not in a thousand years.
And he wasn't sure if they were still alive until that day came but he nodded anyway.
A/N:
Of course it's not the end, and the real thing hasn't happened yet. The theme will be explored more in the next chapter. I'll try to wrap it up in two chapters, but who knows. Anyway, I'll try to squeeze up every last piece of my free time for a couple of days more, trying to finish this story.
Sorry again for mistakes if there are any. I'm too tired and there is no time for an beta. Any comments are welcome. Let me know my mistakes, and I'll change it.
And please review if you like this story, it REALLY encourages me to write the next chapter faster and have it done on time. Thanks for reading.