She is a woman alone.
Alone but not lonely, she tells herself, convinces herself.
The dull sound of tick tock tick tock of an old, round wall clock fills the silence, shatters the silence. The clock is her older brother's. It is not much, and it is old, and some of the numbers have faded. Most of the time, it does not work as she often forgets to change the batteries. She moves residencies a lot, but she never forgets to bring the clock with her. Ridiculous, but she could not bear the thought of discarding it. Maybe because it is the only possession she can bring with her, the only familiar thing in a constantly changing world.
:
She lives in a small, square apartment — no. 404. The walls are white, and there is a large window with an unchanging view. The room is barely furnished; she has a small TV set, old chintz armchair, her brother's wall clock and a low table. Against a wall is a full bookshelf and beside it is a replica of a Picasso poster she bought from a bookstore where Ryo, a high school friend of hers, works part-time.
Every now and then, a black cat with white paws comes over. And every now and then, she'll hear a distant sound of a passing train and, strangely, this comforts her.
:
She is a scholar, a third year college student in Imperial University aspiring to be a teacher.
Oh, she wants to teach, preferably, children; she wishes to teach ABC and primary colors, about the world, nature and people. One day, after a long teaching career, she would settle down and work as a baker in her hometown Karakura. She also believes a degree is something her brother would–
:
("make me proud, orihime."
a ghost whispers while she sleeps,
while she weeps.)
:
The cellphone rings.
Reading an old book from the library and curled in her cheap, large chintz chair, she glances at it from the corner of her eye.
Nobody knows she has a cellphone; her friends often tease her about it. They say: she is a modern woman living in a modern world who could not handle a modern cellphone very well. Cellphones, they are confusing, she thinks.
The cellphone continues to ring. Twice, thrice, four times.
Still, she does not touch it, watching it vibrate and ring. It is an odd phone. It is black, outdated, and only has one contact. It cannot be used to call; it only receives calls.
Five, six, seven times, it rings.
After the ninth ring, she reaches for it and slides the lid up.
:
"Have you decided?"
The voice is androgynous and synthetic.
She stands up from her chair and faces a whole body mirror. Her pale face stares back at her. Honey-colored wide eyes, small nose, full red lips. Her red hair is too-long and too-thick, falling around her face, over her back, and down to her hips like a red waterfall. It makes her face look washed-out.
"This is your only chance."
She grips the phone tighter in her little fist.
"Accomplish this," the voice pauses, "and I will tell you where you can find him."
Caramel eyes become wider, brighter.
"You wish to find your brother, I trust?"
Her lips tremble as her heart skips.
"I will tell you where you can find him."
She glances at the wall clock. It is ten forty nine. Fifty, fifty one, fifty two, fifty three, fifty four. She looks back at her reflection, watching her face, trying to control her emotions, trying to stem the blossoming hope and terror.
But hope overpowers terror and she bathes in it like a parched soul.
:
In her mind's eye, she sees her brother, smiling at her with kindness. She remembers his gentle voice, talking to her: be kind, Orihime, be kind because each and every person is fighting a hard battle.
She remembers their Sunday walks when she was seven years old; Orihime, real strength is in the soul and mind, not in forearms and fists. Then, one Sunday, it was spring, he gave her Enraku.
(i'm so proud of you, orihime
be happy, orihime.
don't give up, orihime
it's okay to cry, orihime, it doesn't
mean you're weak)
A chance. Information. Her brother.
I will find you, nii-chan.
And this is love, this is where he ends and she begins, and this love, this is why she will do it. She is afraid and knows this is wrong, but this is love, a love that can withstand anything, anything in this whole world.
:
"Who is it?" she asks softly.
:
"Turn on your television."
She crosses the small room, grabs the remote control and presses a button.
"Channel 14."
She changes channels. A face greets her vision.
"That is your target."
Her eyes widen. "B-But this is…"
"I know who he is."
She stares at the face of her target with wide-eyed trepidation.
"Off with his head."
:
Off with his head.
Off with his head.
OFF WITH HIS HEAD!
:
There are a million thoughts tangling and twisting inside her head. But one thought separates from the others.
Her target is the Crown Prince of Dainipponteikoku.
Kurosaki Ichigo.