Hime x Hime
Summary: Set after the Soul Society arc. What if Orihime was the opposite of everything she was known to be? Sweet, polite and conserved? Yeah, right. Orihime with an attitude.
Warnings: Language, mentions of sex, and some other twisted thoughts. I just hope the T rating will be enough. Seriously OOC Orihime, such was the purpose of, and the main inspiration for, this fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this Bleach fanfic, except for Orihime's clearly out of place attitude. All rights belong to the Almighty Tite Kubo, aka God, or Aizen himself.
A/N: Just wanted to experiment with a very OOC Orihime. She's rude, crude, and not so innocent. Hell, I kinda like her better this way.
***
Chapter 1: Mistakes
The first time Orihime officially met Kuchiki Byakuya was after the revelation of Aizen's betrayal. That is, after her group of friends managed to rescue Rukia, and countless shinigami busted their sorry asses over to bestow their overdue apologies.
The few days following their dramatic episode up on Soukyoku hill saw any shinigami who ran into them on the streets politely nodding and even going as far as introducing themselves to the group of Ryoka.
Kuchiki Byakuya included.
Orihime ran into him one day while on a stroll down some random street, exploring undiscovered parts of Seireitei. The noble had nodded slightly in her direction. Someone of a higher rank oh so kindly blessing a lesser equal with their acknowledgement.
Orihime scoffed at that. Too loudly, it seemed.
One subtly arched eyebrow later, she found herself being more closely examined by a pair of dark, apathetic eyes. By the look of it, she knew he was taking in her baggy jeans and the oversized hoodie- a failed attempt at covering up her large bust. Sure, she'd been given shinigami clothing to wear, but she had turned them down in favour of her over-worn jeans, now ripped in places down the lengths of her legs. A comfortable look suited for her, or so she deemed. Now, seven feet away from the staring epitome of perpetual coldness, she reconsidered her choice of self representation as the heir continued to look at her with a well-masked disdain.
Gods, how she hated that man. If his arduous attempt at getting his own sister executed went unnoticed, the fact that he tried to kill Ichigo probably got her attention. Rukia was one of her dearest friends, and the Kuchiki had nearly foiled their plan of saving her, not to mention injuring another, very dear friend in the process.
Orihime knew better now, though, than to bash Rukia's brother in front of her- a past mistake when she openly voiced her thoughts on the man to her friend. The shorter girl had defended Byakuya vehemently, spluttering some crap about him having made up for any past mistakes by saving her life from Gin's deadly blade in the end. Yeah, sure. That was just a way to make himself feel better, Orihime had said. Anyone could easily step in between the point of a blade and a girl, herself included. Well, sort of.
Orihime hadn't met the man in person before, but from the things people had been saying about him, she was able to deduce just what kind of a person Bykuya was. An arrogant bastard. Now, having confirmed his rumoured asshole-ness with her own eyes, she nearly shook with contempt.
Byakuya, on the other hand, had not stopped walking, and he went by her within seconds. Coincidentally, the mere seconds were all it took for the aforementioned exchange of glances and unspoken thoughts to take place. So when the last of Byakuya's flowing end of the scarf went past Orihime, she found herself turning around in his direction.
And spitting. On the Kuchiki's noble, silky, white scarf. Completely involuntarity.
Frozen in temporal shock of the said sacrilegious act, Orihime's eyes widened and her jaw dropped in horror. Not wanting to find out if the man behind her had yet to register what was going on, she took off in the opposite direction, willing her legs to go as fast as they could. In her moment of panic, she was still able to make out the fact that no one followed her. No pink glints of sakura petals. No angry bodyguards trying to avenge their captain. She was utterly alone. The street she was running through was empty. As had been the one she was in when the exchange with Byakuaya took place. However, she didn't dare stop running. Several turns and five streets later, she was still half expecting her head to fall off. But her body remained in tact.
Orihime allowed herself to come to a halt in front of a gate, panting heavily. Captain Kuchiki clearly had other things to tend to, rather than chase a girl who spat at him down some streets, that much she was thankful for. She must've gained some distance between them by now.
With the reassuring thought firmly secured in mind, Orihime looked up to see where her feet had taken her. It was true, even after days of staying in Seireitei, Orihime's sense of direction rivaled that of captain Zaraki.
She'd landed herself in front of a division, it seemed. The sign on the white post which made up the gate read "the Sixth Division".
Sometimes, Orihime found her luck unbelievable. She was starting to feel the beginning of a life-long paranoia kicking in, when a hand slapped over her right shoulder.
She jumped, higher than the real world record, or so it seemed, and nearly had a heart seizure right there and then.
An obnoxiously loud laughter erupted behind her. Obviously not Byakuya's. Shakily, Orihime allowed herself to turn around and look at the perpetrator.
It was none other than the division's fukutaichou. Renji Abarai, if she remembered correctly. They had met only once or twice, and always in a room full of other people.
"What's up, Orihime?" The redhead barked cheerfully, eyeing her frightened state with a newfound curiosity. To her credit, Orihime did not flinch at the sudden informality of the address.
"Nothing," she gave him a weak smile, feeling her heartbeat slowing down to a somewhat more human rate.
"You jumped like a frog!" Renji said, head tilting in amusement. Thanks, pineapple freak.
"It's nothing, really. You just caught be off guard, that's all." Orihime replied calmly.
She wasn't going to tell him of the unfortunate encounter with his captain, and frankly, not anyone else for that matter, if she managed to live past this day.
"You sure?" The redhead persisted. "Ah well, I guess everyone in Seireitei's been jumpy lately, what with that bastard Aizen pulling shit like that." His gaze seemed to wander off somewhere in the distance, away from her face.
This was true. Even now, enjoying their welcomed stay in Seireitei, everyone was restless of the tension in the air, be it from the various captains and lower-ranking shinigami they had faced prior to Rukia's aborted execution, or the knowledge of Aizen plotting his next move way over in Hueco Mundo.
Renji shook his head, as if to clear his mind of the thought, and looked at her with a friendly grin. "Say, you wanna go for a drink later this evening? The whole gang's coming too, of course. I've already invited Ichigo and his bunch."
As to who this whole gang consisted of, Orihime wasn't sure. She had a vague idea of some people Ichigo's fought, though. Former enemies turned friends. She grinned back.
"Sure, why not." She shrugged. Might as well get alcohol poisoning sooner than later, it'd probably hurt less than Senbonzakura, she reasoned.
The sun was already starting to set. Orihime thanked Renji for the invitation, promising to meet up later, and excused herself to go back and change.
They all met up again later that evening in front of the eleventh division, a place Ichigo seemed to frequent lately in order to train with the division members. As it turned out, the bald man, Ikkaku something, knew of a good shinigami bar in a Rugonkai district, and they were all heading there. Orihime surveyed the group. There were two people from the eleventh division- the bald man and his flamboyant friend- Renji, some blonde guy she didn't recognize but deduced to be the fukutaichou of the third division from his badge, and the pretty girl from the tenth. Chad and Uryu were there as well, looking somewhat out of place. Orihime was beginning to wonder if they served alcohol to minors and just what Ichigo was thinking, agreeing to this, when they reached the bar.
They found a booth by the corner and everyone settled themselves down, letting out a long-suppressed sigh. Even the uptight Quincy could use a drink at this point, it seemed. The bald man had gone to get their drinks. As if able to read her thoughts, Rangiku, who was sitting next to her, said, "Don't worry, any bar in Rugonkai would sell toddlers alcohol if Madarame Ikkaku says they're with him."
Orihime nodded, bemused. Just then, the aforementioned man came back with bottles of sake and several more cups balanced on a tray.
Even before the third sake bottle was downed, Rangiku was sidling up too close to Orihime for her comfort. She started babbling on about some old childhood friend who supposedly abandoned her. This Gin or something person. Orihime's mind registered the said man as Aizen's right hand guy, and decided to listen more carefully, sympathizing with the distressed woman. Still, she couldn't shake the thought of the crime committed earlier that day out of her head. What would Rukia say if she found out? Renji had thoughtfully not invited her to the rowdy place, since she had to rest and all.
"So what's troubling you, Orihime –chan?" The voluptuous woman paused in her story to ask the listener.
As a response, Orihime gulped down yet another cup of sake.
In retrospect, she really shouldn't have done that. The rest of the night was a blur. She vaguely remembered the drinking group being joined by other members from the Gotei 13, and hearing them share their own stories drunkenly, with arms draped around each other and all. Her eyes kept flitting over to her orange-haired crush, taking in his flushed cheeks and wide grin as he laughed at something the red pineapple said. Not that the oblivious friend of hers noticed her gaze on him. Not that he ever had.
At the moment, Ichigo seemed really too close to Renji for his own good, much like the distance between her and the pretty intoxicated woman she was sitting next to. Hmm…pretty. There was now a new cause to down yet another jug of sake.
***
Orihime awoke to a pounding headache, the infamous beast also known as THE hangover from hell. She took her time to lie still, with her eyes closed, and tried not to recall the events last night. Not that she remembered much, anyway.
Slowly, acknowledging the feeling of bareness, Orihime noted to herself that it wasn't her style to go to bed naked. Suddenly, she forced her heavy eyelids open as mortification began to take residence in her foggy mind. Oh crap. She shook her head to try to clear the dizziness which took over the moment her eyes opened, and peered down, under the white sheets. Yup. Stark naked.
Not moments after she satisfied herself with looking around the room and recognizing it as hers did a body move under the satin sheets.
And that body was not hers.
She gave a small yelp. Now what? Tentatively, her fingers curled around the edge of the rumpled sheets and tugged at it, afraid of what she would see. Please, let it not be Rangiku.
Short spikes of hair were revealed. Ichigo? Tough luck, the hair was black. The body began to stir.
The face emerged. Not one she recognized. Handsome, with battle scars across one eye and a band of tattoo on another side of his cheek. And what's with that number on his face? Did he get it after we got drunk last night? Orihime hoped no body part of hers was tattooed with an indication of a sex technique. Her eyes started to twitch. Violently.
Then, as the mysterious man sat up slowly and the blanket covering him began to fall, tan and toned muscles could be seen on his upper body… which was naked.
She opened her mouth to scream.
***
Shuuhei Hisagi could and would still say he'd had better mornings. Waking up to an awkward situation with another woman, not remembering the night before, sure, he could handle that. But the hangover that started to kick in as soon as he sat up and his brain registered who he had gone to bed with- oh fuck.
The human ryoka was staring at him, wide-eyed. Such a young, pretty face. He just hoped it wasn't her first time.
She screamed. Not a girly squeak, but rather an ear-splitting cry, equipped with an incomprehensible string of swears unknown to human vocabulary.
That did little to help his massive headache, which was still on-going.
***
Gathering her wits together, Orihime stopped her incoherent tirade, if only to give herself enough time to hyperventilate. To his credit, the man just sat there, with only the faintest hint of surprise on his face.
"Morning," he ruffled his hair awkwardly, but with a composed grace suspected to originate from years of experience from waking up to this type of fix. "You're Orihime-chan, right?" He offered cautiously, as Orihime narrowed her eyes to slits. As if the fact that he knew her name was any consolation. Of course everyone knew her friggin' name. She was one of the friggin' ryoka that invaded their friggin' Seireitei for Fuck's sake.
OK, stay calm. She told herself. This situation needs to be handled delicately.
"AND WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?" She found herself barking out. Heh, so much for delicacy.
"Shuuhei Hisagi, vice captain and acting captain of the ninth dividion." Tattoo face said politely. The fact that he was a high-ranking shinigami did very little to appease the situation.
"I don't fucking KNOW you. Hell, I haven't even seen you before. How the fuck did this happen?" Orihime shrieked, well aware that her voice had reached the pitch audible only to canines.
Shuuhei sighed. He wasn't sure himself.
"I saw you last night at the bar. Me and some friends went over to join your table. You were pretty drunk by then, though, which would explain why you don't remember me."
Orihime quirked an eyebrow, feeling rather bitchy at the moment. "Oh? So what, you just took advantage of a drunken woman?"
Shuuhei closed his eyes, willing the headache to go away. He's had enough of this. Girls usually would THROW themselves at him.
"I mistook you for Rangiku, OK?" Even as the words left his mouth, Shuuhei tried to swallow them back. Too late. He mentally slapped himself.
There was utter silence. Then-
"NO IT'S NOT OK." The girl fumed, clearly livid. "GET OUT!"
On a second though, Orihime seemed to reconsider. "Actually, stay here. I get to go first."
And with what dignity that was left to muster, Orihime stood up from the bed with long sheets clutched tightly around her chest, and waded out of the room.
***
A/N: This story has a plot, I swear. It'll soon be revealed in the next chapters ;)
Even though Orihime is this fic is less girly and all, it doesn't mean she's a completely different person. Her appearance, background history, and the quirks we love are still there. Let me know what you lovely people think?