Characters: Rukia, Orihime (in spirit), Ichigo, Sado, Ishida
Summary: Everyone knows that Inoue Orihime's cooking looks lethal. But the one question on everyone's mind is: Does it taste as lethal as it looks? Rukia has to know.
Pairings: IshiHime
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Timeline: None needed
Author's Note: This is pure non-serious stuff. Read, review, and enjoy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Personally, before diving into the unknown and doing something that might endanger her life, Rukia liked to get all the information she could get her hands on. The personal experiences of others she trusted would be best, as they presented, in her opinion, the most reliable sources of information available to her.
Orihime had invited her over for dinner on Friday. Naturally, this alarmed Rukia. She had seen Orihime's cooking.
And that was the problem. Rukia had seen Orihime's cooking, but she had never tasted it personally; she'd been in too much fear for her life to touch what her friend was offering her.
Rukia hadn't turned Orihime down, of course; there was just something about that girl that made everyone who knew her feel desperately guilty if they even slightly upset her. But what she needed to know was if she'd end up in the hospital after eating something, anything Orihime had had a hand in.
Of course, it was common knowledge that Matsumoto blatantly adored Orihime's cooking, but Matsumoto… Matsumoto was a nut! Rukia wasn't following that woman's advice on anything.
There was nothing to do, it seemed, for a Shinigami in distress, but arrange some impromptu visits in Karakura Town.
.
Rukia frowned moodily as she slammed shut the heavy front door of the Kurosaki clinic. She adjusted her woolen scarf and waited until she got out on the sidewalk to whip out notepad and pen in small, gloved hands.
Ichigo was a bust. Completely unhelpful, that infuriating man; when I asked him if he'd ever braved Inoue's cooking, he looked at me like I'd started speaking a foreign language or something, said he wouldn't touch her cooking with the high school flagpole, let alone with his mouth. Not that I blame him for holding this view, but when I told Ichigo how desperately I needed advice, he told me exactly where I could stick his advice. I returned the favor with that foul mouth of his.
You know, Renji had the exact same reaction.
Anyway, I can't let setbacks like this thwart me; I have to know what Inoue's cooking is like.
On to Sado.
.
Again, nothing, though I admit Sado was much more polite than Ichigo. He admitted that every time Inoue offered, he made excuses and said he couldn't.
This brings up a somewhat disheartening thought. Has anyone ever tasted Inoue's food?
At first, it didn't seem possible, but now that I think harder about it, most sane people aren't going to eat food that looks like it's about to crawl off the plate and eat you. It's just not practical.
Well, now I've got to go find Ishida. Somehow, even if he's nuttier than a case of rocky road, he strikes me as the sort of person least likely to have ever contemplated putting life and limb on the line just for some food, but hope springs eternal.
Rukia bit her lip and frowned, before scratching out a few more characters.
I asked Sado where Ishida lives, and he said he doesn't know. I've got to wonder: Does anyone know where Ishida lives?
.
Rukia never did figure out where Ishida lived. Instead, she finally found him in the public library, papers strewn out around him as he tapped keys into the search engine on a library computer.
"Oh, thank God!" Rukia exclaimed, unwinding her scarf and unbuttoning the front of her jacket.
Her face soured when Ishida glared at her and shushed her, finger to lips. "Be quiet; this is a library."
"Shut up; I need to talk to you."
Rukia pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. "Well," Ishida muttered, still typing, glasses gleaming, "make it quick. I've got work to do."
"Have you ever tasted that stuff Inoue's always cooking?"
Ishida seemed somewhat surprised by this; his face was at times so mask-like that emotion didn't always register strongly on the surface of his skin. "Yes, of course I have."
Relief made Rukia feel like it was summer instead of winter outside. "You're a lifesaver, Ishida. I agreed to eat with her on Friday, and I have to know if her cooking's edible or not. Is it really as evil as it looks?"
He shrugged. "That depends. Only about half of Inoue-san's cooking tastes as bad as it looks; the other half is, yes, quite edible, though none of it's what I'd call particularly enjoyable. Either too bland or too heavily spiced, but don't tell her that." Then he seemed to remember something, eyes sparking urgently. "Listen, if Inoue-san offers meat, don't eat it. Offer any excuse you can; say you're contemplating becoming a vegetarian if you have to, but do not eat it; I can almost guarantee that it won't be prepared properly."
Rukia nodded. "Okay. You really are a lifesaver; thanks, Ishida," she added earnestly. She stood back up, but turned back around, suspicious. "Ishida… how the hell do you know so much about Inoue's food?"
Up until that moment, she hadn't thought it was possible for a human face to turn quite that shade of scarlet.
Comprehension dawned. Rukia smirked. "You are such a sucker."
.
Success! Now I can go to my doom dinner date with Inoue without seeing visions of sleepless nights huddled over a toilet running through my mind.
Final note: Ishida is a glutton for punishment, and I need to look into his and Inoue's love lives in the near future.