Before you start reading, I don't know for a fact whether it's Japanese tradition to blow out candles on a birthday cake or not, but that's how this story begins. Sorry if it's inappropriate, I apologize. Review please! (By the way, reviews=life line of authors. Just a tip ;) haha!)
Cheering sounded all around the room as Ichigo Kurosaki exhaled to extinguish the flickering candles atop his birthday cake. Ulquiorra Schiffer still didn't understand the strange ways of these people but enjoyed watching Orihime Inoue act so joyous. He greatly cared for her and often felt a bit of her good mood wiggle its way into his heart—which he'd gained back when he'd somehow reappeared in the World of the Living several months ago. Even Urahara was unable to explain how Ulquiorra had been able to return from the dead, but it didn't bother the ex-Espada much. Now that he'd taken a job at a bakery, moved in with Orihime, and made peace with Kurosaki and his friends, Ulquiorra was simply trying to enjoy his new life.
The evening whisked by in a blur of laughing, talking, and eating. By the end of it, Ulquiorra was exhausted and quite glad to be heading out the door. Orihime hugged everyone before skipping out the door toward Ulquiorra who waited patiently for her at the gate.
"That was so much fun, wasn't it?" she giggled, thrusting her hands into the air and performing a little dance as she walked. Ulquiorra felt his lips twitch into a tiny half-smile—that only Orihime could ever manage to draw from him.
"Yes, quite entertaining," he replied.
"I'm really glad you decided to come, Ulquiorra," she breathed, gazing at the stars as she strolled, hands clasped behind her back. He loved seeing her like this.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I just know that you still feel guilty." She glanced back at him when he halted mid-step. "Whenever you're around Kurosaki, you seem ashamed. But you came anyway." Her coal-hued eyes looked at him with pity and something else warmer in nature. For a long time, he couldn't think of anything to say, lost within the depths of those brown eyes.
Then, a breeze rose, sweeping Orihime's scarlet hair across her face, and with it came pair of flower petals dancing on the wind. Ulquiorra and Orihime watched the blossoms twirl gracefully through the air, careless and free.
Suddenly, Ulquiorra felt a warm hand grasp his own. He looked beside him to find Orihime smiling softly at him. Silently, the pair walked home.
O.o.O
When they reached the apartment, Ulquiorra stepped into the kitchen to clean the mess he'd made while baking Kurosaki's cake. He started the hot water running and placed the dishes in the sink while he set about sponging the counters. As he folded his pink apron, which had been a gift from his employer, he heard music drifting from the living room. Peering around the doorframe, Ulquiorra spotted Orihime, in her blue skirt, patterned with white flowers, and her pink blouse, whirling like a ballerina. She swayed fluidly to the music, her eyes closed as if to drink in the melody. He didn't recognize the song, but it was something slow and calm and sweet. Her arms lifted and descended like a feather in the wind; her feet slid across the wooden floor like beads of water on a leaf; her hips swayed like the current of a stream.
She was beautiful.
Her grace and beauty reminded him of the petals they'd watched prance in the wind earlier.
He couldn't take his eyes off of her, and somehow, he was suddenly stepping away from the doorway and into her path. She danced right into his arms, gasping and opening her eyes when they collided, but she was soon swept away as Ulquiorra took charge. Guiding her in a dance as pure and beautiful as the moonlight that streamed through the windows, he dreamt he was lifted into a paradise, floating far above the ground, away from any sorrow or grief.
The warmth of her body pressed close to him was all that he was aware of for a long time—or so it seemed, for he quickly became unaware of the passage of time. Several songs came and went, their dance never breaking all the while. Finally, Ulquiorra drew Orihime into a steep dip. Unintentionally, he found his lips on hers, caressing with a tender ferocity. They'd kissed several times before, but never quite like this. Ulquiorra's mind had wandered slightly the other times, but now, all his senses were focused solely on the woman in his arms.
When he straightened, Ulquiorra's mind felt fuzzy, and he was reluctant to release Orihime from his grip, but she seemed to be trying to say something, struggling against his grasp.
Blinking to clear his head, Ulquiorra finally made out what she was exclaiming about as she hurried into the kitchen.
The sink.
He'd left the water running; now, the floor was drowned in a puddle. Racing to the kitchen, Ulquiorra's throat closed at the thought of how angry she'd be at his ruining her floor. He babbled, "I-I-I'll get a-a mop! I just-I'm so sorry!" As he rummaged frantically through the cupboards for a bucket, a light, tinkling noise sounded behind him—one he knew rather well. Confused, he swiveled on his heel to find Orihime crouched on the floor, holding her stomach because she was laughing so hard. Her skirt was becoming drenched; though she hardly seemed to notice.
Speechless from befuddlement, Ulquiorra rose to his feet, unsure of what to do. When she finally calmed her giggles, Orihime stood and said, "It is okay, Ulquiorra! Don't worry; I'm not mad." He could hardly believe his ears. Surely, this incident caused for some fashion of anger. But instead, Orihime grinned at him.
Still bewildered, Ulquiorra stood stiffly as she splashed toward him to place a gentle hand on his cheek. She tenderly drew his face toward hers, but instead of kissing him, she simply touched their foreheads.
Somehow, this gesture, more intimate than a kiss, set ablaze a passionate fire within Ulquiorra's heart. The heat seemed almost to seer through his skin, but it was a kind of pleasant pain. The pain in his heart insured that she belonged to him and him to her.
Closing his eyes, Ulquiorra thought to himself: This is the woman. She's is the one who can save me.