Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of the Bleach characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

Golden

A/N: Pre-current arc.

"Oh, please come, Ichigo! I promise, it'll be a lot of fun!"

The berry shook his head, not once looking up from the week's issue of Jump. Really, he could finish reading manga anytime, so going with his friends to the town festival wasn't a problem at all. The fact of the matter was, he didn't feel up to it. He'd been to parties and the like with them in the past, and had thoroughly enjoyed himself. But that had been before everything had changed. Again.

She tugged on his shirt, now wearing a pouty face. "Please, Ichigo?"

There was a quiet scoff from the door. "Honestly," Uryu said, pushing up his glasses, "we were set on going without you. I even told Orihime that you wouldn't be interested, but she insisted that we stop by just in case."

He looked at her again, melancholy. Really, he just wasn't in the mood. Still, she'd gone to all the trouble of gathering up his friends to come and ambush him, so...

"All right," he sighed, flipping the magazine shut. "I'll go."

Orihime squealed with joy, grabbing him in a hug as she thanked him. Pulling away, she beamed up at him, promising that she'd make sure he had the best time of his life.

Of course she would. That's just how Orihime was. She liked making people happy; seeing them smile.

He glanced out the window, somewhat shocked to see that it was dusk. The clouds were white on top, still pressed against a somewhat-blue sky, only to be painted a myriad of heated colors on the underside. Ichigo then stared at his watch, giving Uryu a grin. It wasn't even seven yet. For such a horrid liar, he'd actually managed to pull this off. It was a rather amazing feat since, in the past, the Quincy hadn't been able to lie worth shit.

Orihime must have given him a script before showing up.

"Hurry!" Orihime urged as he pulled on a jacket. "It'll start in fifteen minutes! We wanna get there for all the games before the lines get too long!"

# - # - # - #

It was a short ten-minute walk to the grounds where the festival was being held. Walking beneath the large banner, his senses were hit with a barrage of sights and smells, the likes of which he hadn't experienced since middle school. Had he not been so busy wiping out hollows in the past, Ichigo would have been sure to show up to more of these festivals. The food, unlike the slop his dad cooked, was exquisite, and there was always something to do.

Now that he thought about it, this sure as hell beat sitting at home with a magazine.

Glancing at Orihime, he laughed, her eyes the size of baseballs as the flickering lights danced. She jumped with joy, grabbing him and Tatsuki by the hand, dragging them over to a booth where they were giving out goldfish as prizes. He watched in silence as his friend nailed the bottles with a single toss, completely flooring the man maintaining the game. She giggled, pointing to the smallest fish on the shelf.

As it was handed to her, Orihime smiled.

"You know," she said, cupping the bag, "most people don't like the little fish because of their size. But they're my favorite. I like to feed them and watch as they grow." She looked up at him, smiling. "Kind of like you, Ichigo. Since middle school, you've really grown up. You didn't let anything stop you."

"Hey, Orihime! What's his name?" Tatsuki asked, pointing to the fish.

The redhead scrunched up her face for a moment before proclaiming, "Botan!" Again, she turned to him, gently placing the bag in his hand. "He'll be just like you, Ichigo. He'll be strong, and go on to live a long, happy life."

He grinned, staring at the little creature that swam in his hand. Really, goldfish were lucky. They had an incredibly short attention span, nothing to do, and still they seemed to take nothing for granted. Every flake of food, every inch of the bowl was easily taken care of. Nothing went to waste.

Maybe, if he could be more like a goldfish, he'd be able to remember how to count the stars in the sky, rather than the dark spaces between them.