Chapter One
Orihime had made a careless mistake.
She blamed herself, mostly. There was no one else to blame, really. She supposed her friends would fault the hollow that had done the deed, but she didn't really blame the beast for following through on what it was made to be doing. Rather, she more or less blamed her own lack of strength and attention.
They'd been warned by Soul Society that their heightened levels of reiatsu would attract hollows. Both she and Chad had been aware of this fact, but had become so accustomed to the threat that they'd hardly paid it any mind. Hollows came, were defeated, and they moved on. Sometimes they attacked her, sometimes she had to fight back, and inevitably someone else came along and defeated them. She'd beaten back a few on her own, even slain one or two, though it gave her no pleasure to do so. But this time around, there'd been too many variables that she hadn't been able to focus on.
Too many children to keep up with, to be more accurate. She blamed herself for that too.
She should have known the becoming a teacher was a bad idea. Certainly any other job she could have taken up would have been just as dangerous for those that worked with her, but the sight of so many children and a hollow looming over had made her panic. She was the only one that could protect them, and it was in doing so that she'd seen her end coming. It was either protect herself or a child that didn't have the maturity to listen to her commands.
And now, here she was.
Dead.
She didn't have any regrets or grudges—she wasn't the type—so staying behind hadn't really been an option. She'd accepted her inevitable death a long time ago, what with her acute knowledge of how the afterlife worked. Though, admittedly, she'd hoped to make it beyond the age of twenty-four.
Nonetheless, she was not destined to become a wandering soul and apparently hadn't been eaten by the hollow, which only left her one other destination.
Soul Society.
It wasn't so bad, she supposed. She'd been there before, knew many important people there. Certainly she wouldn't be parted from her friends for very long. But it was getting through whatever natural cycle was required first.
Or so she'd reasoned with herself just as the hollow had stabbed her through.
Just like that, the world, her own being, seemed to blink out of existence. Like a single drop of rain atop the side-walk, or the shine at the tip of a pin.
When she awoke later, it was like she'd been pulled from the depths of the ocean. As though she'd been suffocating, only to have the air rushed suddenly and violently back into her lungs. She was weak, and shaky, and confused in the same way someone was upon coming out of anesthesia. She had a distinct recollection of what had happened, but couldn't gather herself enough to act on it.
"Keep moving, then," a voice issued. "Step onto the platform there, yes, there you go."
"Where- Where am I?" She finally managed to ask, before turning to look at the cloaked figures ushering her and…
Souls. Souls everywhere. All of them looking just as confused as she felt. Thousands, all of them being encouraged onto the wooden platforms by cloaked shinigamis. She couldn't feel their reiatsu—she was still a bit foggy—but somehow she knew that was what they were.
"On your way to a better place," was the strict response she was given. "Now up onto the platform."
"Wait." She tried to clear the fatigue from her mind, but it was like clouds were plastered over her eyes, making it difficult to do much more than blink. "I'm Inoue Orihime. I need to go to the Gotei 13."
The robed Shinigami was quiet, having paused, before ultimately shaking his head.
"You'll get there if you're strong enough," he settled. "Now let's go, can't clog up the soul gate. Come on, onto the platform." He reached out and gently took her arm, before leading her up onto the wooden step.
"Wait, you don't understand," she tried. "I'm Inoue Orihime. I'm close friends with Captain Kuchiki Ru-"
Her final word fell on deaf ears.
"Rukia…" she finished, only to realize that she was totally and completely alone. Surrounded in silence, she wavered on her feet and tried to fight back the dizziness that assaulted her head, but ultimately failed. Toppling to her knees, she placed a hand on her chest and struggled to breathe.
Why was she so weak? Was this a typical side effect of death? The world was spinning.
Hand in the dirt, she closed her eyes and steadied herself, finding that it became easier and easier to breathe the longer she focused on calming herself. Right, she was in Soul Society, she was a soul, she should be able to survive here just fine.
In and out, deep breaths. Just… stay calm.
It took a few moments, but soon enough the nausea dissipated. Opening her eyes once more, she sat back on her feet and turned her gaze upward.
She was surrounded in tall pine trees, their tops so high and so buried in one another that she couldn't see through the canopy. It was shadowed, dark almost, and quiet. Pine needles stung her knees and got caught up in the fabric of the blue yukata she was somehow clothed in. It was thin and a bit tight around her chest, but covered her well enough.
Reaching up, she was abruptly distressed to note that her hairpins were gone. Panic began to set in, her hands falling all over her body in search of them. It was as she was patting down the wide green belt around her middle that she took note of something bulky wedged between the fabric and her body.
Two zanpakutou. Shorter than most she'd seen, seeming to resemble daggers more so than most of the swords she'd seen. They were only just a little longer than her forearms, their grips crisscrossed in blue that was strikingly similar to the pins she'd once worn. And the guards were shaped exactly like the heads of the pins, albeit somewhat thicker so as to work appropriately upon a sword. Their sheaths were orange.
Shoulders slumping, she allowed the weapons to fall into her lap, relieved to have them. It wasn't quite the same, but it was close enough. Close enough to bring her comfort, in any case. Though even with the weapons, she sensed she was weak. Her reiatsu had changed, which was only to be expected, and so she felt almost unfamiliar within herself. Whatever abilities she'd had as a human, she'd have to relearn them now. Relearn herself, perhaps.
Which was okay. She was sure that if she could find her way to the Gotei 13, her friends would help. Rukia would be there, and Ichigo too, what with him spending so much time in Soul Society the last few years. Rangiku was there as well, and Toshiro. Renji, Ikaku, Yumichika. Everything would be fine. She just had to get to them, that was all. Easy enough.
But maybe resting a little longer was also a good idea. She felt… exhausted. Dying sure did take a lot out of a person.
"What a day," she murmured to herself. "I hope everyone isn't too worried." Certainly they were bound to be a bit concerned—she'd died, after all—but they were all well-versed enough in how such things worked not to be too overwrought at the notion. Now she was just like her shinigami friends, that was all.
Though she supposed her death would be quite traumatic for all the children she'd been trying to protect. She hoped someone had shown up to take care of the hollow before any of them had gotten hurt.
The hollow…
Shouldn't her soul have gotten eaten? But she was quite certain she was in Soul Society, not Hueco Mundo. She'd spent a generous amount of time in both and knew that each place had a different feel. And she certainly didn't feel like a hollow, having become a meal for the one that had killed her.
Perhaps her friends would be able to offer a proper explanation once she found them.
But before she could do that, she had to figure out where exactly she'd ended up.
"I suppose a forest is a nice sort of place to end up," she decided, staring one again up toward the treetops. "Better than in the middle of the ocean. Or a volcano." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I wonder which way to the Gotei 13."
"The Gotei 13?"
Startling, Orihime stood and whipped around. Still holding her zanpakutou' in both hands, she came face to face with a band of seven bedraggled men of varying shapes and sizes. They were swathed in torn pieces of worn clothing, and many were armed with varying types of mismatched weapons—knives, poles, even a sharpened stick. A few of them were grinning holey smiles, while others glared.
"How's someone like you know anything about that?" one of the taller men asked. He stood at the head of the group, as though he were leading them. His longer hair was a nasty, matty mop atop his head and there were a few dark smudges of dirt streaking down his left cheek. Not that the rest of him wasn't also covered in filth, though perhaps less acutely.
Clearing her head as best she could, Orihime pursed her lips and didn't bother replying. She knew that Soul Society wasn't exactly the safest place, and she recognized threatening figures when she saw them, even if she preferred to think the best of everyone.
"Look at that, boss?" another one of the men said, this one in particular possessing no hair at all. "She's got a couple'a zanpakutou."
The first man grinned. "How'd you get those way our here, girlie? Find a couple'a dead shinigami? Well…" he tossed his knife up into the air before catching it, "it don't faze me much, how you got your hands on em.'"
"What do you want?" she asked, taking a single step back as she did. "I don't have anything that's worth anything."
The leader pointed his knife at her. "You got the clothes on your back," he countered. "A rare commodity in districts this high. The best we get around here is what comes in on newcomers like you. They'll sell well enough to the next district up." Another grin. "'Sides, you got plenty underneath those robes that I think we'll find to be worth plenty."
A few of them chuckled.
While Orihime stiffened, supposing she'd have no choice but to defend herself. Her position was precarious and she doubted anyone would be coming to her aid anytime soon. She doubted anyone even knew where she was. And while she was always more apt to think the best of people and their intentions, she couldn't afford such optimism at present. Not with how disadvantaged she was. Whether she had zanpakutou or not, she didn't know how to use them. She'd had power as a human, but if she still possessed that power, she didn't currently know how to access it. Which basically left her with two asuachi's that she didn't even know how to use in a strictly physical sense.
She contemplated calling to Shun Shun Rikka, but knew that in her weakened and foreign state, it would do no good. She could feel no spiritual connection at present.
"Really gonna try and fight back?" the lead man asked. "Why don't you just make it easier for all of us and give up?"
Taking another step back, Orihime considered running, but feared that she'd stand little chance of escaping them. She was still weak from the effects of dying and could tell she wouldn't get far. Already her legs were tired, feeling as though she'd only just run a marathon the day before without any prior training.
The best she could do was try and stand her ground.
"Tch, fine," the leader said. "Have it your way."
Bringing his dagger to his side, he readied his posture—as though preparing to run at her—while the remaining six did the same.
Orihime did what she could to subdue her panic and fear.
"Heya, boss?"
"What?!" The leader did not appear pleased with his subordinate's interruption.
"There's, uh… over- over there." It was a smaller man who pointed across the clearing to the right, somewhere behind Orihime. "Someone is there."
All attention was drawn there, including Orihime's. She didn't like the idea of someone coming up behind her, and so turned and backed some to the left, so as to keep everyone in her sights. Including the newcomer.
He stood in the shadows between two trees, silent and as thin as the branches themselves. He wasn't terribly intimidating stature-wise, but there was a sureness in how he stood that made Orihime—as well as her attackers—uneasy. Wearing only what looked like the remaining bottom half of a worn and tattered yukata, the rest of him was bare. With skin as pale as white marble, he seemed to glow like some kind of phantom in the darkness of the wood, despite the fact that he was as grime-covered as the other men. Long black hair stretched nearly down to his hips, covering his face and making it impossible to see any expressions on his face. The strands were matted and pulled in knots, intermixed with mud, leaves, and bits of twig. Like an aggressive animal that had taken over the body of a man.
Because even though he stood still, they could all sense hostility in his posture.
"Who're you?" the leader of the group asked, brandishing his dagger in the stranger's direction now.
He got no response.
"Hey, listen here, why don't you mind your own business, huh?" he addressed the pale man again. "Go back to whatever cave you crawled out of."
"Uh, h-hey, boss, I don't think-"
"Quit pullin' on me!" The leader shook off the man that had been shakily grabbing at his sleeve.
"B-But I think that's- that's the guy they was talkin' about in town."
"What guy?"
"The Vasto Lorde."
A statement that had Orihime's blood momentarily running cold. But then… what would a Vasto Lorde be doing in Soul Society?
"That guy aint no Vasto-whatever!" the leader rebuked. "We'd know if there was a hollow around."
"No, not like that," the smaller man explained, still appearing shaken and afraid, as did quite a few of the others. "A hollow that was killed by a zanpakutou and c-came here."
Then a soul that had once been a hollow and was purified.
The leader smirked. "Then he aint no different than me then, and most of you. We were all hollows once too." He tossed his dagger again. "I aint afraid of some ghostly-lookin' tree-boy that-"
He never got to finish his sentence.
Orihime could barely make out the pale man's movements. One moment, he'd been standing between the trees and the next he had the leader of the attackers by the head. In one swift motion, he threw the man across the small clearing and into the nearest tree, which splintered and broke as his body splattered apart from the impact. Gasping, Orihime had to look away.
No doubt the man was dead. Or, rather, deader than he had been before.
"Holy shit!" one of the others yelled out, before the entire group began to frantically scramble back. But though he'd been brutal in his initial attack, the pale man made no move to go after the others. Instead, he stood between them and Orihime, facing away from her as the others quickly vanished into the woods. Soon it was only her, the stranger, and the fractured body of the dead leader.
Keeping her attention on the pale man, Orihime made no move to do anything. She was shocked at his power and the ruthlessness of his attack, but she was not afraid. He was making no move toward her. Rather, she didn't even know if he realized she was there. But certainly he had to know? What reason could he have had for attacking the man other than to protect her? Normally, she wouldn't be so self-centered, but he hadn't taken off after any of the others, nor had he come for her.
Had he overheard what they'd been saying and come to her rescue? But why?
Startling her into taking a quick breath, she watched as he suddenly turned to face her, making it abundantly clear that he did, in fact, know she was there. Even though she couldn't see his face, she felt his gaze upon her. It was so heavy that, in her already weakened state, she nearly felt like buckling beneath it. But she held her ground, determined despite the sweat that beaded across her skin.
"What do you want?" she asked, uncertain what else to say when he slowly began to make his way toward her. She got no response, unable to do anything but stand helplessly and listen to her heart beat rapidly in her own ears. Soon he was only standing an arm's length in front of her. She could smell the earthy musk of whatever lifestyle he led, and feel more heavily the weight of his gaze upon her. Or maybe it was something more she was feeling—his spiritual pressure, perhaps? She wasn't sure.
Slowly, he reached out to her. She wanted to back away, but found the feat to be impossible. She watched as his long, thin fingers came up toward her face. His nails were dirty, but even so, she could tell they were naturally black. They hovered up near her eyes, before lifting to her forehead.
Barely able to breathe, Orihime flinched when one of his fingertips lightly touched her forehead. At first she'd been wary his touch would be cold, but it was quite the opposite. Which seemed to jolt something inside her. Or perhaps redirected her fear from something expected to something foreign. It wasn't much better, but did allow her to recognize that the man before her was just that, even if he was powerful. He was breathing, as she was, and his body—spiritual as it were—was warm, just as her own was.
Swallowing hard, she watched as he gradually pulled his finger down. Down the bridge of her nose, gently across her lips and chin. Lightly over her throat, before halting again just below her collar. For a moment, he did nothing, their breathing the only thing echoing in the silence. Until he finally stretched his hand out a bit further, splaying his palm over her chest.
Over her heart.
Which was all Orihime could take. Unable to fight her weakened state any longer, she snapped under the adrenaline and nerves, vision wavering before she felt her legs fall out from beneath her.
As quickly as she'd found herself there, the shadows of the forest closed in.
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I watched the live action and it got me thinking about this ship again after all these years. Leave a review if you can-I don't expect this story to get much attention anyway, sigh.