Viewpoint: A slightly ooc Orihime

.

Timeline: In the Bleach-verse, I've no idea. Maybe after the "Lost Shinigami Representative Arc". To make things easier, just call it AU. In the Samurai 7-verse, it takes place while Kyuuzo, Kirara and Momotaro are walking through the mountains on their way to Wing Rock.

.

Warning: There's lots of silliness and no plot to be seen.

.

Summary: In which Orihime has a random encounter with someone possessed of even brighter hair than Ichigo's. His name? Kyuuzo, of course.

.

The World's Most Surly Hero

A gigantic grin of greeting on my face, I stepped out of the Senkaimon into blindingly bright sunlight. Shielding my eyes with one hand, I carefully balanced the tupperware dish containing the black olive and chilli custard ice-cream in the other. I had prepared the pudding specially for the occasion and I was anxious to have everyone taste it and tell me what they thought. Hopefully, it would be better received than the shiitake mushroom and condensed-milk jelly I'd brought last time.

I stumbled sightlessly forward, expecting at any moment to be welcomed back into the soft, warm, cozy bosom of my friend Rangiku Matsumoto, who'd invited me over from the world of the living for a 'good-old-fashioned Shinigami hen party', as she'd put it. I gathered that it generally meant there would be a lot of booze involved. But she'd promised there would be tea, too.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Rangiku-san," I smiled, taking another step. Funny, I didn't remember Soul Society being quite so windy. "I had to wait for Urahar – aaaaaaaahhh goodness! Oh my, I'm falling! Heeeeeeeelp! I'm falling! I'm gonna dieeeeeeeee!"

As it turned out, my third step out of the Senkaimon had literally taken me off the side of a mountain.

This was an unpleasant experience for me, not being a great fan of heights, on the whole. It took some adjusting to. Tumbling bottom over bosom to the ground, many emotions flashed through my mind. Foremost of those emotions was regret. Regret that I hadn't had that disgustingly calorie laden chocolate, nut and wasabi cake for breakfast like I'd wanted to.

What a total waste of willpower.

"Aaaaahhhh! Still falling! Still need help!" I thought to add as harsh rock-face whizzed past.

Looking back on the incident, I would admit that my Shun Shun Rikka might have come in handy. It simply never occurred to me to call them. I blamed the panic.

At that point, I imagined it might have been a good idea to clarify exactly what I needed for anyone listening, in case they were confused. "Any help would do, really! A rope, or even just a –"

Suddenly all the air was violently knocked out of my lungs, leaving me unable to finish my sentence.

It's about time, I thought. That was an awfully long fall.

Assuming I'd finally hit the ground, I took stock. And thought it weird that there was something to take stock of.

Toes? Check.

Fingers? Check.

Lungs? Ow. No. Definitely not check. Ow ow ow.

Heart? Beating faster than humanly possible, but still intact. Check.

Eyes? Err … Hard to say. Was being bedazzled by vivid yellow fluff normal for the recently deceased? I'd heard of bright lights at the end of a tunnel … but this didn't seem like that.

Mouth? Unable to concentrate on anything other than trying to get air as gently as possible into the above-mentioned aching lungs. Though my lips were strangely ticklish; as if something very soft were pressed against them.

Nose? Now that was interesting. From the slightly blurred – but quite spectacular – view I'd gotten on my way down, I knew I was nowhere near any greenery of any description. The words 'desolate' and 'arid' had briefly crossed my mind. Yet, strangely, my nostrils were filled with a lovely mixture of damp grass and tree bark.

Curious.

A gentle bump drew me away from my internal checklist and sharpened my focus on the rest of the world. It was then that I noticed that the reason my lungs were in such a deplorable state was that mid-fall I'd been grabbed around the torso and none too gently brought to a sudden halt.

"Oh." I croaked.

Drawing back slightly, I saw the yellow fluff that had been tickling my lips was in fact hair. And rather dramatic hair at that. Excluding the captain of the eleventh squad, Kenpachi Zaraki's be-spiked and be-belled do, I'd never seen such a blatant disregard for the laws of gravity. The smell, too, originated from the gloriously downy coif.

Drawing back even further, a face came into focus.

One baleful eye the colour of dried blood glared back at me. The other was hidden behind a stylishly long fringe.

"Oh." I repeated.

" … " he said.

"Er … "

At that point, I realized that the reason our faces were pressed so intimately close was because my arms had automatically wrapped around my saviour neck in a choke-hold that would have suffocated a small elephant. It might also have explained the death glare. I hastily untangled myself and retreated to a safe distance –

– and promptly toppled backwards off the cliff again.

I distinctly heard the man sigh in a way that expressed more eloquently than any number of words that he was fed up with the world and everything in it. And doubly so of a fatally clumsy girl who neglected – not once, but twice – to check where she stepped.

Then he calmly reached out and grasped one of my flailing hands and pulled me upright.

Thinking it best not to do that again, I fell to my knees and did some hyperventilating.

"Ah, there you are! You almost had us worried there for a second, Orihime-chan!"

Judging by the cheerfulness, distance, and lilt of the voice, I made a calculated guess that the speaker was not Mr Homicidal-Eyes. I glanced up through the curtain of my wind-swept hair and squinted.

"Rangiku-san!" I exclaimed. The curvy death god stood on the threshold of a Senkaimon suspended on thin air, one hand on her hip while two Hell Butterflies flutted impatiently around her.

"There was a mix-up with the Senkaimon, dear," Rangiku explained, floating over to help me to my feet.

" … " the silent man remarked. I got the feeling he had never seen anyone quite like Lieutenant Matsumoto before.

"If you ask me, I think Urahara dipped into the saki stash …" she continued, ignoring the blank stares she was getting. "Come on, the party's almost about to start. Trust me, you'll want to be there when Nanao finally loosens up – she does an uncanny impression of Celine Dion."

"O … kay … " was all I managed to say as she pulled me along, making for the dimensional gateway. I twisted to look over my shoulder and saw my mysterious rescuer standing statue-like, observing us with his one visible eye. It was slightly widened.

"Thank you so much for saving my life, sir!" I called hastily as the bamboo doors began to close. Just before they cut him off from my sight, I added, "You have very nice hair!"

The End.

A/N I'm aware of the crappiness of the ending, but I'm too tired to fix it. :]

.

Reviews are electronic hugs which make me happier than a pig in mud, while flames are used for toasting marshmallows.