Hey everyone! This is my first story on here. Comments and constructive criticisms are loved!
This is an UlquiHime story. If the pairing offends you, please don't scrutinise and insult me. Everyone's welcome to their own opinion, but that doesn't mean you can bash someone else's :)
This first chapter mostly contains events that have already occurred in Bleach. I'm trying to set the scene so please bear with me.
If you're familiar with Bleach up to the present moment, read on. If not, I will advise you of major spoilers
Bleach belongs to the masterful Kubo Tite.
Thanks for taking the time to read this! Here we go!
The sun was setting in the west. Clouds drifted across the eternal sky, skirting evermore towards the horizon. A calm energy droned over the land as a sense of peaceful tranquillity embraced the small group of friends sprawled across the dewy hillside. It was hard to determine how long they had been there, as each individual was either too lost in their own thoughts, or was too drunk to care.
It was Orihime's 19th birthday. After the hazy events of her 18th birthday (which, as she remembered, included a donkey, fire crackers and streaking), she was quite content to remain lazily atop the hill clutching a bottle of cheap cider to her chest. Although she was nowhere near as drunk as her friends, she didn't trust her legs to hold her so she continued sitting even as the others sprung up unexpectedly to dance. She wasn't surprised as Keigo rolled to the foot of the hill, nor when Tatsuki clouted Ichigo about the head for making innocent remarks, nor even when Chad started whispering incessantly at the birds flitting through the trees. Nothing was bothering her. She was at peace.
Rukia appeared at her side. Her hair was dishevelled and her clothes were stained, but the alcohol induced blush on her cheeks only glorified her impish beauty.
"Want to dance?" Her question wasn't unexpected.
Orihime pondered on the request for only a second. "No, I'm okay, thanks. I really need to pee, actually! Wouldn't want any accidents now!" She punctuated her answer with a loud and rather manly guffaw.
"That's the bother with drinkin': You always need to pee!" Came her reply.
The two began sharing secrets and gossip, collapsing onto each other in drunken glee, legs splayed ungracefully and cheeks bursting with colour. Orihime couldn't believe she had once been jealous of the sniggering girl at her side. She had placed the blame on immaturity. Her love for Ichigo had been blinding her and all else had been made obsolete in the fierceness of that love. It had never been Rukia's fault for Ichigo's affection towards her. It was just the way things were. Now, she focused on admiring Rukia, and hoping that one day, she could be even just a tad as respectable.
At the age of 19, Orihime realised she didn't love Ichigo anymore.
XxXxX
As darkness began creeping over the hillside, Orihime was drunk. Totally and utterly drunk. Not only that, she was dirty. An abundant amount of rolling and wrestling had seen to that. Everyone had been astounded by her behaviour, but they had all joined in heartily.
After returning from the nearby park toilets (she had stocked up on baby wipes in case of the absence of a toilet), she noticed everyone had amassed together for the journey home. Ichigo, looking as dashing as ever, had his arms draped over Ishida's and Chad's shoulders, who both appeared thoroughly pleased with themselves as they downed the last of their beers.
"There you are!" Tatsuki exclaimed. "We wondered where you'd got to." She sauntered over and grasped Orihime's hands within her own. Orihime smiled lazily up at her, grateful for the small expression of friendship.
"Well!" Keigo cried. "I remain parched and in need of sustenance! I must continue forth into the night and partake in various parlour games and imbibe several liquors!" He paraded around the grass, flailing his arms and legs dramatically to match his pretentious speech. Apparently, the other males of the group agreed with his expression and rallied around him in a flurry of masculine unity.
Keigo burled around to face the girls. "Well, ladies? Wouldst any of thou like to assist in the consumption of hearty foods and drinks?"
Orihime was about to answer, before Tatsuki barged to stand before her. "Hold on a minute; this is Orihime's birthday. I think it's only right if she decided what happens next!"
Keigo looked ashamed.
"No, no, it's alright, Tatsuki! If everyone wants to go into town, they can. I was about to head home, anyway."
Keigo brightened.
Tatsuki whirled angrily on her, but her face was friendly. "You know I can pay for your drinks if you're short..?"
"Ha ha, it's not that. I just don't think I can handle it anymore." This wasn't exactly true. She was well inebriated and her body could have sustained more, but in all honestly, she just wanted time alone.
Without hesitation, Tatsuki protested. "Oh, come on! It's your birthday! What's the point of going out without the birthday girl?"
"I'll be there in spirit..?" Her reply was pitiful and she knew it.
Before Tatsuki had the chance to berate her, Rukia stepped in. "Look, if Orihime wants to head home, let her. As the birthday girl, she should be able to make her own choices without anyone questioning her." Orihime spotted a sly wink adorn Rukia's face and smirked in reply.
Ichigo untangled himself from Ishida and Chad and walked over. His usually threatening expression had been replaced with a sort of caring look. "Do you want anyone to walk you home?" His voice was strangely soft. Too drunk to remain intimidating.
Not wanting to be a bother, Orihime replied, "No, I'm okay, thanks. On you go and enjoy the night!" Her smile was like a ray of sunlight in the darkening evening.
After many niggling arguments and goodbyes, Orihime seated herself on the park bench; too lazy to go home just yet, watching her friends retreating backs as they walked, or slid, down the hill, her smile wistful. She loved her friends, really (even Keigo when he was at his most annoying.) She adored relaxing on the hillside, or heading out for lunch; she even enjoyed her job. It was complete heaven.
A splatter of blood…Screams in the dark…A grey palace…
She bolted upright. Why are you thinking of such things now?
She no longer wanted to think about the events of years past. Her mid to late teens had been just awful. Sure, there was adventure, excitement, the meeting of minds and the promise of glory, but there was also genocide, blood, fear and anger. No amount of good could have outweighed the bad. She felt sick thinking about it, still. The images that flew through her mind caused a thick lump to lodge in her throat and a depth to settle in her heart. She tried to stop them, but they came regardless.
A towering palace rearing up on the horizon of her mind, appearing before her like polished bone…skeletal white trees dotting the landscape…becoming coated in blood…a psychotic scientist prodding her skin with instruments like metal claws…infinite hallways…insidious intent…BLOOD…DEATH…screams…
She opened her eyes and realised she was crying.
XxXxX
It was getting late. The moon emerged from behind sapphire clouds, appearing at once like a scythe and a jagged smile. A crescent. She gazed at it. It blurred drunkenly and a circle of hoary light doubled in her vision, but she now felt strangely calm. The moon was translucent in its beauty; the father of the sky lights; the sun being the mother. A sense of serene fullness washed over her as she gazed at the grinning crescent. It was a sentinel watching over her; a lonely, beautiful sentinel whose extraordinary charm made even the most pessimistic of minds feel a little more content.
Chiropteran wings extended across the sky. A thousand tiny vessels were straining against the leathery skin, being made apparent by the blaze of the moon. He had a sharp face. His skin was stretched tight like leather about his skull, giving him the appearance of a marble statue come to life; no emotion, no soul, no…nothing! He simply existed there, his haunting, jagged appearance seeming all at once to command the sky around him.
And then she noticed Ichigo being held beside him, a reptilian tail wrapped around his throat.
There was no life in his eyes.
It was image that would stay with her the rest of her life.
She had genuinely hated Ulquiorra at that moment; hated him to death. The sight of Ichigo just hanging there, just dying there, had caused a ravaging and frightened anger to brew in her heart. She was powerless, but wished to have power. Her friend was fading, and she could do nothing. Immobilised by anger, fear and the wish to be stronger, she could only scream. Years of self-loathing and fear of the unknown and the hopeless desire to save those close to her had poured from her soul that night.
It was her futility that changed Ichigo. She could no longer hate Ulquiorra as her friend and protector morphed into what could only be called a monstrosity. She discovered Ichigo had become more terrible than the man who had captured her. Serrated teeth had split into a deadly battle cry, and a fight to the death had ensued.
It was over in minutes.
His wings were dissolving into ash. Ichigo stood stock still watching the skeletal frame disband into the silent air. Ulquiorra seemed accepting of his fate, only whispering that the fight would never end lest he was cut down at that instant. It was a peculiarly peaceful moment when he reached out his bird like hand to grasp her from afar.
"Are you scared, woman?" His eyes showed tangible emotion. The green depths kindled with guilt, regret and the strange addition of worry.
She had never been less afraid. In one appalling moment, she realised she wanted to hold his hand; to feel the delicate masculinity in his fingers and to feel the connection between one person and another, joined by some secret bond that was elusive to all others. Her gaze was drawn again to his face. It was a handsome face, albeit gaunt and perpetually sad. His mouth was thin yet pleasant to watch when he spoke and his nose was long and graceful, and she couldn't believe the beauty of his eyes. It was the addition of emotion on his face that made his beauty all the more wonderful, and here at the end of it all, she felt very sad.
It was suddenly very silent as she answered: "No, I'm not afraid."
Feeling the need to make her answer resolute, she repeated herself. "I'm not afraid." She couldn't stop the tears from gathering at the corners of her eyes, nor stop them as they ran down her reddening cheeks. She was thoroughly upset by it all, and couldn't really determine why. He…he was the enemy! A baddy, a murderer, a killer…and she was crying over him; he who had treated her with loathing and disregard. He had all but kidnapped her, played dangerous mind games with her, murdered her best friend before her eyes and had just been downright awful to her. Her mind was working overtime and she rapidly concluded that the whole experience was weighing her down and destroying her, but the look on his doll like face…It was shattering.
"I see," was his answer. He sounded almost amused.
His hand began retreating from her. Stricken by regret and an odd attraction, she reached to grab it. It dissolved in her grasp, and she had to watch as his body was carried away by the winds.
The last thing she saw was an unusual little smile on his face.
And it was wonderful.
Her mind returned to the present. Oddly enough, she wasn't crying any more. She realised that reliving that memory had left her feeling satiated. She had pushed the remembrance of Ulquiorra far from her thoughts, afraid that it would upset her, but she just felt satisfied. She deducted with startling clarity that it was almost like a final goodbye; a respectful and honest way of remembering a man who gained what he had lost right at the end of his long and painful life.
The night air was cold as she rose to go home. There was the distant sound of music on the wind. Without even stopping to question why, Orihime began dancing. The sensation of completeness in her soul enveloped her body, and she moved with it. She was happy. Her coppery hair caught the moonlight as she circled over the grass, slowly at first, but getting faster and faster until the world was a blur and all that mattered was the feeling in her heart.
She knew it was her imagination, but she felt hands ghost over her hips, her arms, and her face as she moved. An old image of Ichigo rose to the forefront of her mind and he was kissing her forehead, murmuring against her sweet skin that he loved her and would cherish her always. He moved to her lips and brushed his mouth against hers, so ardently and passionately that she lost herself and moaned with delight.
She knew she no longer loved Ichigo – he was attractive, yes, but her affection had grown stale and she couldn't still consider what she felt for him as love. She had not since felt anything as warm and lovely, so her mind was working on nostalgia, giving to her images she now considered meaningless. She wanted more. Her wish for a current attraction bubbled to the surface. The visions of Ichigo and herself had never been anything more than kissing, or holding hands in the park, but as she was a young woman in every right, her body ached for something a bit less…juvenile; something more feral and lustful and as her womanly assets demanded more attention, her own touch was beginning to lose its initial wonder.
A sudden burst of wind descended through the trees and a multitude of fresh green leaves swirled around her. The scent of winter was on the air and she relished it completely, filling her lungs until they ached with the cold.
The wind died, the leaves began to rest again and a man was standing on the crest of the hill.
She knew all at once who it was.
I'm sorry if I ended this badly, but I think you can else guess who is standing there :L
Thanks for reading!