A/N: A little drabble I wrote for the hell of it. Just for fun. Like it or don't. Please review and tell me.

Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.

:tattoo:

"You're kidding me, right?" Rukia Kuchiki shouted into the phone. Although there was the fact that the phone made her voice sound funny, there was nothing that could make Orihime Inoue laugh now. "We're meeting at Ichigo's place in fifteen minutes, Orihime! If you don't have a Halloween costume by then, you're screwed!"

Orihime paced back and forth in her tiny apartment, her mind going a mile a minute. "S-sorry! I didn't realize it was already Halloween!" Orihime giggled nervously, twisting a long strand of hair around her finger. "My mind's been kind of wandering all day, I guess..."

"Well, call it back! If you don't show up right on time I'll force you into that Wonder Woman costume I got. And you know what that -"

"Hang on," Orihime interrupted. "I think I got an idea."

"What is it?" Rukia asked, calming down.

"Um...nothing, Rukia! I'll be over in a moment!" Orihime called, and snapped the phone shut, letting it clatter carelessly to the floor. On the other side, Rukia sat motionlessly with the phone in her hand, listening to the dial tone with no idea of what had just happened.

Orihime ran to her room, glancing out the window on the way. Outside it was getting dark. Plenty of kids were already out, dressed in costumes of all kinds of characters and people and animals. She had placed a bowl of candy on the step, although she suspected that by the time she got her costume on and went outside it would all be gone.

She shook her head and turned on the light in her bedroom, advancing to the closet and pulling open the door. She reached in and began to shove clothing aside, scrabbling in the back of the closet until her fingers touched it. The slippery, otherworldly fabric that she had buried in the back, so she wouldn't see it whenever she opened the door and remember. Now she grasped with all her might and pulled, pulled so hard that she went toppling backwards and landed in a heap with the dress on top of her.

"Ow..."

Rubbing her head, Orihime sat up with a wince. But it didn't take long to recover, and she soon stood and held up the dress for inspection. She had worn this three years ago, when she was fifteen - it had been a while, but she figured she probably still fit into it. She had lost weight then that she hadn't been able to gain back, no matter how many pistachio sundaes with rice and wasabi she ate.

Orihime quickly undressed and pulled the tight-fitting dress on. She had repaired the sleeves where they had been ripped, and the twin puffs were back and looking as good as new. All the stains had disappeared under her meticulous hand-washing, and all the tiny splits had all been mended. In short, she had made sure it was in perfect condition before pushing it to the back of her closet with the hope that she would never see it ever again.

She turned round in the mirror, examining her backside to be sure nothing had been missed. Then she looked at herself, and, fighting back the wave of emotion that came with seeing herself in the dress and smiled largely.

"Better get to Kurosaki-kun's before I'm late," she remarked aloud, before pulling on the black socks and white sandals and then rushing out of the door.

She took her time walking the short distance to her nakama's house. The dress - well, the outfit really - swished around her ankles as she strolled along, her auburn hair shimmering down the back. After that week, she had taken to wearing her hairpins clipped to her collar, but today she restored them to their place at her ears. Her sandals weren't great for walking down the street and crunching loose stones. They had been designed for walking those long halls, endless and smooth. Behind her, her cape swirled as she walked, following the same designs as her hair. Her hand rested over her heart, over the one tattoo she had, the one she had gotten on her eighteenth birthday - a gothic 4 resting firmly on her left breast directly over that organ that she cherished so much. It was as much to remember that week, as to remember him, and everything he had believed in and stood for and what he had come to realize just before his death.

She shook her head and her hand fell from her chest, hanging at her side as she trod along, swaying slightly with the weight of her passing. A group of children stopped in their candy-collecting to watch her breeze by, the goddess who deigned to pass them, hair aflutter and cape swirling. And when she passed, like a flurry of autumn leaves, she left a wet pine smell, like rain and Christmas and viridian.

She turned the corner to see Ichigo's family clinic, all lit up and splendid with the fake cobwebs on the bushes and the plastic spiders crawling up the windows. Putting her hand with the cap sleeve covering the back on the fence, she hesitated for the first time, seeing the glowing house and hearing the music beat from inside the house, wondering if she had made the right decision dressing up like this, if maybe she might offend someone. The cold of the gate seeped through her fingers, into her palm, turning her skin white like his had been, as she stood frozen in Ichigo's yard, her thoughts battling.

"Excuse me?"

Orihime looked around quickly and aimed her vision down. A little boy dressed as a bottle of ketchup had come up to her and was looking up at her costume with a half awed, half confused look on his face.

"Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Um...what are you supposed to be?" the kid asked.

Orihime glanced at the child, and then at his parents, who looked faux-embarrassed at their child's boldness. Behind their eyes was curiosity about her costume.

"An almost lover," she answered the little boy with a smile, watching confusion pass over his face. Then she made up her mind, unlatching the gate and stepping inside the Kurosaki's yard, her heart pounding in nervousness.

She trotted up to the door and opened it. Everyone was there except for her: Ichigo, Chad, Uryû, Keigo, Mizurio, Rukia, Tatsuki, Michiru, Chiuzuru, Ryo, Mahana. Everyone was dressed up, even Ichigo, who was wearing a spiky lion's mane with ears around his head and had disgruntled whiskers painted on his cheeks. If Orihime had to guess she'd say he was dressed as Kon. She also saw Rangiku and Renji sitting in the corner.

And everyone was looking at her.

It was the ones who knew - those were the ones who were all looking at her with that horror in their eyes, with the shock. Some, even with hurt. Those were the ones who had their thoughts painted on their faces as clearly as the whiskers on Ichigo. Orihime pressed a hand to her tattoo that none of them knew about, felt her heart beating erratically underneath it at their judgment.

She knew she shouldn't have worn it.

Her face crumpled, and she turned to walk out the door. It was something she couldn't handle that night. Her emotional limit was low tonight because of the costume, just having it on. She took a step over the threshold and felt a hand on her arm.

Surprised, she swiveled to see Tatsuki, who was wearing her karate uniform - the same Halloween costume she'd worn every year since Orihime met her and probably even before that. Her best friend's eyes were angry, and she frowned down at Orihime, who cringed, expecting Tatsuki to accuse her of ruining the night.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'll go home and change."

"No, don't do that," Tatsuki commanded. "Why should you apologize to them? They're the ones that need to apologize to you."

Orihime's eyes widened at her friend. Under her tattoo, her heart beat loudly. The white Espada dress beat with it, her chest thumping away.

Everyone was quiet. Then the silence was punctuated by the sound of a quiet sob as a tear slipped down Orihime's cheek.

"They can't accept it," she whispered. "They can't accept that it's a part of who I am. That he's a part of who I am, and that this outfit symbolizes that. I apologize for disrupting your evening. I'll be going now."

She turned back around and closed the door firmly behind her. She didn't expect anyone to follow her, and no one did. Following the walk to the gate, she paused with her hand on the latch and looked up the hill at the swirling leaves and night.

For a moment, she thought she saw his figure standing at the top of the hill, looking down at her, silhouetted by damp golden leaves and the night time stars. His hair blew in the wind, and he put his hand over his white uniform where his tattoo lay, where his heart beat steadily. She mirrored his action, looking him in the eyes.

Then the vision dissolved, and he was gone, leaving Orihime with the tattered white dress and the thumping 4 tattoo as she unlatched the gate and went home.