Authors Note: I think Ulquiorra and Orihime deserve a happy ending. I'm just going to forget about what happened in the series. Tite Kubo is in insane for killing off Ulquiorra and making Orihime marry Ichigo. Like come on. UlquiHime for the win. - Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its character.
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[Chapter One]
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Orihime stares at her laptop screen. This weekend is the add/drop period and she really wants to switch her complimentary class. It is currently Chemistry, a subject way out of her field. She drums her fingers along her desk. There are only two classes she can choose from, calculus and programming. Anyone who knows Orihime Inoue is aware of the fact that she is incapable of even uttering the work math let alone solve an equation.
She sighs. Programming it is.
"So what did you choose?" Rangiku asks from her bed. She is lying on her stomach, legs up, phone in hand, probably texting Gin.
"Programming," Orihime answers her roommate. She selects the confirm button and pushes away from her desk. She closes her eyes, leaning back, exhausted. "It was that or calculus."
"Awe really? None of the design classes were available?"
"No."
"And here I was looking forward to helping you out." Rangiku pouts, resting her chin on her hands. "You would have made a great pupil."
Orihime chuckles. She would have been able to snatch a design class, but she was away during the winter break and couldn't complete her schedule fast enough. All the seats had been filled before she had a chance.
"I don't know a thing about programming," Orihime says, groaning. "I hope it isn't too hard."
"Do we know anyone who's in computer science?" Rangiku wonders, humming in thought.
Orihime purses her lips.
Nelliel is in fine arts with her. Rangiku is taking interior design. Tatsuki is in law… Uryu? No. He's also in law. Sado? He's in nursing with Momo Hinamori. Orihime puts a finger to her lips. Rukia is in chemistry with Ichigo. She bites the inside of her cheek. She isn't sure if she knows anyone who has chosen a path in the technological field. None of her friends are necessarily tech-geeks. Although, Renji and Grimmjow do like playing video games, but that doesn't count.
She will have to survive her complimentary class on her own. Whether in sickness or in health she will try her best. No matter what Orihime always puts one hundred and ten percent into everything she does. She nods. She can do it, she knows she can, and even if she has difficulty, she can always ask her teacher for help, or another student. She's positive at least one person will know what they're doing.
OoOoOoOoOoO
When she walks into her programming class, she is surprised to see that every desk is equipped with a computer. After spending so much time in the painting and drawing studios, classes like these seem alien to her. It's so futuristic, like she's stepped into another dimension.
The room is deserted, but she's not surprised.
She made sure to come extra early (thirty minutes early) because she was feeling nervous, and she wanted to get a good seat, preferably one in the front of the class.
She glances around before walking to the first row. She peeks her head in the isle about to decipher which seat would be the best, but freezes. Her mouth parts. Someone is there. A boy.
Orihime blinks. He is staring, quite intently, at his computer, typing away a list of codes she cannot even begin to fathom. He seems to know what he's doing. He's typing so fast, not once pressing the backspace key. She watches, amazed, as if he were from another planet.
This is her chance. Sitting beside a genius like him would be perfect. What a coincidence! And just when she was losing hope. She smiles. He can help her throughout the semester, considering she has no knowledge of programming whatsoever. He can answer any questions she may have. Orihime is set and ready to ace this class.
She hopes he's nice.
Skipping to the boy's side, she plops herself down in the seat beside his. She notices that he is wearing a crisp shirt tucked into ironed jeans. His shoes are tied in a calculated knot, and his socks are grey. She wonders if he comes from a rich family. His clothes are completely spotless.
She drops her bag on her lap, her long green skirt wrinkling beneath it. There is paint on her sweater and charcoal lines on her sneakers, but she doesn't mind. They are the marks of a true artist.
"Hi," she says, a glowing smile on her face, "my name is Orihime Inoue."
He doesn't answer her, his fingers typing codes at an intimidating speed.
"I'm in the Fine Arts program, what about you?"
He ignores her. Orihime almost frowns, but forces herself not to give up just yet.
"Hm," she hums, leaning back in her chair, thinking. "Let me guess…" She pauses. "Are you in biology, or maybe math? Law? You kinda look like someone who's in a really tough program. Oh! Psychology? That's pretty hard. I heard that only a handful of students actually graduate with a mark above seventy percent. Isn't that crazy? And here I though psychology wouldn't be too challenging. You know, I have a friend who knows a guy who's friends with this other guy, I think you've heard of him, his name is Sousuke Aizen, and he's in psychology. Apparently he's the top student in the entire school. Quite impressive isn't it? I wonder what he looks like, I haven't really seen him around school or maybe I have but because I don't know what he looks like I just haven't noticed—"
"Woman," the boy says, cutting her off. He looks away from the screen, a deep frown on his face. Orihime, alarmed that he called her woman, the nerve, has a hard time holding back her gasp when he meets her gaze. His eyes are absolutely beautiful. "Stop talking to me." He stares back at his computer, fingers pressing down on the keyboard.
That was rude. Very rude. No one has ever said something so cold and heartless to her before. But. His eyes. How can they be so magnificent? Her mouth is open, gaping at the fact that, one: he totally shot her down, and two: his irises are green, amazingly green. Orihime's hands twitch. She wants to paint them. She has to paint them. She has some paint in her bag right now, but it would be irresponsible to take them out with all these wires lingering about. Maybe she can ask him if — wait! She completely forgot about her drawing assignment! He would be the perfect model.
Orihime's glows.
She has finally found someone to be her model. However, she watches the serious expression on his face and the way his brows furrow. Her lips fall into a line. After what he said to her, he isn't the kindest of students she has come across. Maybe he's just introverted? Orihime is one of the friendliest people in the entire college, she is positive she will be able to get him to warm up to her. Somehow.
"So," Orihime speaks up. "What's your name?" She loses a bit of hope when he flat out ignores her, again. No. She is stronger than this. She will prevail. "Does your name start with the letter A?" He doesn't say anything; still typing away as if it's the only thing he knows. "Is your name Akira? Akashi? Atsushi? Atsushi is a nice name. I wish I had a pet with that name, maybe a dog, or a rabbit. I've always wanted a rabbit but my brother kept telling me he was allergic. I think he was lying, though. He just didn't want to have a rabbit running around our house. Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Does your name start with the letter B? You know, I can't really think of anything that start with—"
"I do not have any interest in speaking with you," the boy states, eyes never leaving the screen. "So stop your foolish rambling and mind your own business."
His words slice through Orihime's skin like a knife. She swallows. Maybe he's been having a bad day? She awkwardly turns in her chair fiddling with the paint and pencils in her bag. She'll try getting to know him another time, during their next class maybe?
OoOoOoOoOoO
Orihime flops onto her bed. She whimpers.
"What's wrong?" Rangiku asks, frowning from her desk. "Did something happen?"
"I met this guy—"
"You did?!" her roommate exclaims, bouncing off her seat. "Is he handsome? Smart? Funny? Shy? Cute?" The woman lands on Orihime's bed, her mattress creaking.
"No nothing like that," Orihime says, her voice muffled by her pillow. "He was so mean." Orihime frowns, remembering the way he looked at her. With one glance it was as if he turned her into ice. "And he was rude. He didn't bother answering any of my questions during class. I was so lost. I had no idea what the teacher was saying."
Rangiku rubs the girl's back.
"Don't let that guy get you down," she says, smiling down at her friend. "I bet you can soften up that guy's heart. If he even has one."
Orihime sighs. Just her luck, she finally finds someone who she really really wants to draw for her assignment, who is a born master at coding, but ends up being an insensitive, uncaring robot. Orihime believes in second chances though. She knows everyone, deep down, has a heart. And, setting aside the drawing assignment for a moment and the fact that she desperately needs help with coding, she would give anything to paint his eyes. They are incredible. Not even to get marks or a good grade. She just needs to paint them. It's her duty as an artist, no, as a human being. It is her duty as a human being to paint his mesmerizing eyes, to bring them to life on canvas. Somehow, someway she will persuade him. She will. She knows she can.
"What's his name?" Rangiku asks.
Orihime pauses. She has no idea. This will be the first barrier to break she supposes: learning the green-eyed boy's name.
