Author's notes: I wanted to write something for Orihime's birthday today, but I couldn't think of anything appropriate and I just haven't been able to write anything longer than a few hundred words recently. So, I headed off to Wiktionary's "random entry" button and wrote an IshiHime ficlet for the first English word it threw at me. It was surprisingly fun, I might have to do more of these. :D

Chapter warnings: Be careful not to choke on the fluff in this one. I can't perform CPR through the internet.

Hyperesthetic

Orihime always wondered why Uryu never took his shoes off.

She supposed it didn't particularly matter; he walked so carefully it wasn't like he was wearing her floors out, and he had a knack for somehow navigating even the muddiest field without getting so much as a speck of dirt on them, so he never trudged the smallest sliver of dust into her carpet. Perhaps, she mused, he had some fabulous Quincy technique he used to keep his abundance of white clothes clean.

Still, Orihime was curious, so one day she asked him.

"Why do you never take your shoes off, Uryu?"

Uryu's eyes widened as he regarded Orihime. "I'm sorry. Does it bother you?"

Orihime shook her head. "Not at all! I was just curious."

"Ah."

Examining Uryu's wary expression and the tell-tale twitching of toes curling inside his shoes, Orihime came to a conclusion and broke into a smirk. She launched herself across the floor and pinned Uryu down by his shoulders, turning her back on him as she sat on his chest and began forcibly removing his shoes. Uryu squirmed underneath her, attempting to plant his feet firmly on the ground so she couldn't slip them off, but ultimately he failed. Despite her small stature, Orihime really was remarkably strong.

Orihime grinned as she dangled Uryu's shoes above his face. "You're ticklish, aren't you?"

"No."

He refused to meet her eyes.

Tossing away his shoes, Orihime pounced on his feet, her smile growing wider as even the lightest brush of her finger against his white socks elicited a fit of giggles.

"Not ticklish, eh? I think you're lying to me!"

Uryu's protests increased in volume as Orihime tickled him harder, and he wriggled and writhed as he tried to gently prise her from his torso without reflexively kicking her in the face. Orihime laughed herself as she continued to assault his curling metatarsals, noticing how his face was becoming redder and redder with each surprisingly undignified peal of laughter.

Eventually, Orihime took pity on him and let go of his feet, only for him to immediately respond by seizing her waist, pulling her sideways until she toppled to the floor herself, and proceeding to tickle her ribcage until she curled up into a giggling ball.

Oh well, Orihime thought as she collapsed into hysterical laughter. I guess I deserved that.