Title: Ugly Side

Series: Bleach

Pairing: Ichigo/Orihime, slight Aizen/Orihime and Hichigo/Orihime

Rating: T for now

Summary: She may have been rescued, she may have been able to return to her old life but something definitely ties her back to Hueco Mundo. When her friends realise this, it's already too late. – IchiHime -

Warnings: dark and rather angsty

Note: For The Ultimate Hali Challenge of 2010 at FLOL. First time I've written anything IchiHime so don't stone me if it's OOC/so bad it's horrible. I don't have a firm grip on their characterization yet.

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

'I only want you to see
My favourite part of me
And not my ugly side
Not my ugly side'

Chapter 1

***

She was quietly humming a soft tune while she folded her clothes, placing them back into her drawer. She felt a bit listless, a regular occurrence since her return from Hueco Mundo, but since she was alone at home, she didn't feel the need to hide behind her usual cheerful smile.

Her voice died down abruptly as her fingers grasped an eerily familiar dress. It was silky, the white textile almost glowing in the sunlight. Her eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

She didn't know why she kept it in the first place. In fact, she didn't know why she washed it out, hoping it would be spotless. The sleeves were still torn but she decided not to restore them; their absence would only remind her of all the things that had happened in Las Noches.

She figured it may be some kind of masochism on her part but she had to realise that couldn't be correct. She didn't feel pain when she thought back to her time spent there. She had been hurt physically and mentally but she didn't hold any grudges against either of her captors.

She may have simply wanted to remember the happenings so she would never repeat the mistakes she had made back then. She had been rescued only two months ago so the memories were as clear as day, but who knew if she would be able to remember them that clearly years later.

The ringing of the doorbell pulled her out of her thoughts. She quickly stuffed the white dress into the drawer, pausing for a moment, her brows furrowing as a pang of guilt shot through her at the sight of the crumpled cloth. She shook her head, not understanding where these strange feelings were coming from, feelings that would hit at the most unexpected times.

She rushed to the door, already suspecting who the visitor could be.

"Ah, finally. I was starting to worry you wouldn't open the door just like the other day." Tatsuki said a bit gruffly, but soon enough, her lips lifted in a smile.

"Sorry about that one, Tatsuki-chan. I didn't feel well at the time." Orihime replied, sheepishly rubbing the back of her head. Well, at least that was half-true. She definitely hadn't felt well at the time but she highly doubted it had anything to do with physical sickness.

"Heh, and here I thought this numbskull was the one responsible this time."

The auburn haired girl looked puzzled till the tomboy reached to the side and pulled a grumbling Ichigo next to her.

"Oh, hello Kurosaki-kun." Orihime blinked and drew closer to the door, her fingers clutching at the handle.

The orange haired boy nodded and greeted her, before sending a glare at the black haired girl. Tatsuki's gaze was shifting between them before an annoyed sigh fell from her lips. She muttered something under her breath before grabbing Ichigo by the arm.

"Say Orihime, can we come in?"

"Of course! Sorry, I don't know what happened to my manners."

She stepped aside so her two friends could enter her small flat. She trailed after them, nervously rubbing her arm. She didn't know why, but the conversation with them felt awkward. The same applied to all of her friends and even her schoolmates. She didn't join in their conversations unless they specifically asked for her opinion. Some of them had mentioned she seemed a bit down but she always waved it off with a smile and quickly made up excuses.

"I was wondering-" Tatsuki began but a cough from Ichigo made her rephrase her sentence. "So we were wondering if you'd like to come with us to a little celebration this weekend. You barely leave your flat nowadays and we were worried you might start leading a hermit's life."

"Oh, don't worry about that, it's just because it's so cold outside." she gabbled, her arms flailing in front of her.

Tatsuki and Ichigo exchanged glances before the dark haired girl turned back to her friend, her tone becoming more serious.

"Look Orihime, you don't need to make up excuses now. I know it must be hard to process everything you've been through but we want to help you with it. Don't shut us out."

She stared at her with wide eyes, not quite believing what she had just heard.

"Tatsu-"

"Yes Orihime, I know." She said seriously, her eyes boring into hers. They shined with such steeled determination that Orihime knew it would be useless trying to deny anything. Her eyes shifted to Ichigo who had been quiet since he stepped into the room. His gaze met hers and before she could voice her question, he nodded firmly.

"You can tell her everything you don't feel like telling us." He paused, a dark shadow flitting over his face and eyes. He huffed to clear his head before continuing. "While we were away, Urahara-san told everything to her, as well as Keigo and Mizuiro. They…" Ichigo paused again, sending a strange look toward Tatsuki. "also seem to have… powers."

"P-powers?" she stuttered, not really believing her ears. "You mean…?"

"Well, Urahara said we have the potential to develop powers but so far all we can do is be aware of other people's reiatsu and the presence of hollows and Shinigami." The black haired girl explained, rolling her eyes. "That dimwitted Keigo still shrieks every time he spots a hollow somewhere in the town."

Orihime tried to laugh at that, because she had to admit, the image was indeed funny and she knew she would laugh at it any other time, but now it only came out as a forced giggle.

"I'm sure he will get used to it." She said with a smile on her lips. "I used to be afraid of them too but if you do develop powers, then you'll be able to take care of them."

The conversation came to an abrupt halt, the silence stretching uncomfortably long. Finally Tatsuki huffed and got up, prompting Ichigo to do the same.

"I see you are still not up to talking about it." She said, rubbing the back of her head.

"That might be because of my presence. I'll leave you two alone." Ichigo muttered and before Orihime could protest he left the room, sending one last mournful look at her.

Her shoulders slumped, her gaze lowered to the ground. Even though the war had ended and Aizen had been taken care of, they still hadn't resolved their issues. Orihime frowned, a bitter taste flooding her mouth. It wasn't supposed to be like this. No matter what story she took as her basis, after the hero won over the villain he was supposed to get the love interest so they and everybody else could live happily ever after.

A disappointed sigh fell from her lips. Of course it wouldn't happen that way in real life.

"You know, it was his idea to come here and try to drag you out into the sunlight." Tatsuki admitted, thrusting her hand into her pocket. "He cares about you and it hurts him that you won't open up to him about the things that happened in Hueco Mundo. I don't want to force you to talk about it or anything, but just be aware of that, OK?" she risked a smile at the auburn haired girl and was relieved to receive a genuine smile of her own.

"I'll do my best." Orihime answered and gave a quick hug to Tatsuki.

"We'll see you tomorrow afternoon around the same time, OK?"

Orihime nodded enthusiastically, her spirits lifting a little. She showed the other to the door, craning her neck to behold that familiar mop of orange hair, but realised Ichigo had already left.

She returned to her room with a thoughtful look on her face. She didn't even realise her bad mood had such an effect on the others. She should pull herself together as soon as possible before she became a burden to them again. With that in mind, she turned to exit her room and make something for dinner. She halted in the doorway as her eyes set on the crumpled white dress hanging out of her drawer.

"What an annoying cloth you are." She huffed with mock indignation and strode back to put it back neatly into the drawer.

Her fingers smoothed over the soft fabric as she carefully folded the dress. It seemed to have a strange power over her senses, she mused in an almost trance-like state.

She gasped as a sudden wave of numbness washed over her, almost like a loud sound wave resonating through her whole body, stiffening her from head to toe. Her brows furrowed when it repeated; she let go of the cloth so quickly one would think it'd burnt her. She stared in puzzlement at it for moments before a choking sound burst from her throat. Her vision was swaying, darkness creeping into it. She grabbed at the edge of the drawer, hoping it would help but knowing that this was something above mere nausea or any earthly sickness.

The next moment, she felt her consciousness being pulled back and forced under the heavy black blanket of oblivion. She was falling into yawning darkness, less and less aware of her surroundings or her own thoughts.

…

She took a deep breath and stood up straight, letting go of the edge of the furniture. Her eyes scanned the room, pausing at the crumpled white dress at her feet. A smile crept over her lips and she bent down for it, lifting it to her face in adoration.

She looked around again, spotting a full body mirror standing in the corner of the room. She walked in front of it, dropping her clothes as she went, without a care for where they fell. She looked her nude self over, satisfaction evident on her face and in her golden-black eyes.

She dressed slowly, sparing no time to make the silky, white dress fit her perfectly. The sleeves may have been missing but that only highlighted her creamy white shoulders and slender arms. She adjusted her hairpins last, her smile widening as she examined them more thoroughly.

She smoothed her hands down her body one last time before turning away from her reflection, her arm extending in a graceful move. A small flick of her wrist was enough to rip through the texture of dimensions, opening a Garganta that would lead her back to Hueco Mundo.

To Be Continued