notes: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate it. You guys are just amazing.
Ugh, this chapter was both difficult and fun to write. So many elements were used here and I wanted to get them all right. Here you'll be seeing Orihime giving Ichigo the cold shoulder (well her version of it anyways). But you'll also get a somewhat softer side of Ichigo too.
I'm really hoping the manga will include Orihime sometime soon. I swear it's killing me. For now, you can enjoy this.
rating: T+
disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
the reason
his last resort
:
Chopin drifted across the courtyard from the main house. Humming to herself and swaying slightly to the music, Orihime's fingers danced over the keys. Her skill as a pianist was proven as she tackled the heart of song, passionately making the piano sing.
Ichigo sat by his bedroom window, a glass of scotch in his hand. His view allowed him to peek into Orihime's bedroom since her white curtains were pulled aside. Around the window sill were flourishing flowers. That explained why she always smelled good.
But Orihime was in the living room. It was better that way, considering the incident earlier that day. Although it was already twilight, Ichigo could not shake off the guilt he felt for his actions. Orihime did not understand that she was making his job harder than necessary. It would be best if she left him be.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
The door opened to reveal Matsumoto, clad in a black dress. Her hair was curled elegantly in a half-do. It was evident she was fixed up for the upcoming night. "Kurosaki-san, I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed."
"I'm fine."
"Is the food alright? Tessai tells me that you didn't eat."
"The food's fine. I didn't feel like eating."
Matsumoto smirked. "It insults Tessai. Slip it to the dog if you have to . . ." She paused, with indecisiveness. "Do you mind if I talk to you for moment?"
Ichigo shook his head.
Matsumoto glided into the room, perching herself on his bed. She tried making eye contact but Ichigo refused. "How are you getting along with Orihime?"
Ichigo took a gulp of scotch before saying, "We'll be okay once she realizes I'm not a new toy."
"Yes, she told me," said Matsumoto. "Do you have children, Kurosaki-san?"
"I told you I didn't."
"Then you should know they can be stubborn when they want something. And Orihime only wants to be friends."
Ichigo faced Matsumoto, his brows knitted together. "But you're paying me to protect her, not amuse her, right?"
Matsumoto faltered then nodded. She was not accustomed to men being volatile with her. Sure, Gin played games and enjoyed teasing her but unlike all the other men who softened up to her, Ichigo was brutally honest and uncaring of the impression he made.
"Look," said Ichigo. "Maybe this isn't going to work out. Maybe you should go and hire someone more . . . sociable."
Matsumoto pursed her lips, meshing her lipstick together. Somehow, she liked Ichigo's reasoning. "No, you're right. You were hired to protect her and I'm confident you'll do that."
"Also, I need you to drop me off at one of company's branches tomorrow. So I'll be accompanying you tomorrow." Then she stood up and walked out.
:
Outside, a storm was approaching. Inside the side house of the Inoue residence, horrific metal music blared from Ichigo's stereo. He stood in the dark, holding his gun. Like the night before, he ejected the round and tried to catch it with the back of his hand. But it was no good so he chambered another round. Again, it was no good.
The song repeated and Ichigo continued to drink. He paced around his bedroom, still attempting to catch the bullet.
He hated himself. Because of him, she had died. The most important person he loved had been murdered because he couldn't protect her. But now he had another chance to protect someone of equal significance and he felt as helpless as before. Nothing was different; Orihime wasn't safe with him around.
She deserved better.
Orihime and Masaki deserved better than him.
Blood filled memories plagued Ichigo's mind. He couldn't take it anymore. If he stuck around, he'd be forced to witness another beautiful person die. It was too much, too much to bear. This was his last resort.
"Fuck it."
Hot tears angrily rolled down Ichigo's face as he brought the pistol's barrel to his forehead. It wouldn't matter if he was gone for good, no one would miss him. So Ichigo pulled the trigger.
.
.
.
.
.
Simultaneously, three things occurred.
The song cut short.
The rain clouds broke overhead.
And the sound of Orihime's chiming laughter traveled into Ichigo's room.
.
.
.
.
.
But what didn't happen was most important. There was no gun shot, just a click. It was like a hammer against a shell.
Stunned and confused, Ichigo ejected the shell and caught it in the palm of his hand. A small dimple on the back of the bullet was the only thing evidence of his failed attempt. It made no sense at all; he should have been lying on the ground, dead.
Grabbing his cell phone, Ichigo stepped out into the courtyard. The rain was heavy on his back but he did not care. For Ichigo, it rained everyday no matter how much he hated it.
"Ichigo?" answered Urahara on the other end of the line, his tone evidently worried There was no humor in his voice like the other times, he was all serious.
"Have you ever had a nine millimeter round that didn't go off?"
Silence followed for a few seconds. "You mean a misfire?"
"I mean nothing," clarified Ichigo, already drenched from the rain. It was ice cold but he didn't feel a thing, his entire body was numb. "The hammer came down but nothing happened. Only a scratch on the primer."
"I've heard of it," admitted Urahara. "Never happened to me though. Maybe the firing pin's off."
Ichigo was troubled to say the least. "Maybe . . ."
"It's like we used to say: a bullet never lies, it always tells the truth." Urahara paused. "What were you shooting at?"
Ichigo said nothing. The bullet rolled between his calloused hands, a reminder and token of how he cheated death once more.
"Ichigo?" prompted Urahara in concern.
"Sorry I woke you, Kisuke," said Ichigo gruffly and then clicked off the phone. He started towards his place but stopped short.
There she was. Orihime stood in the closed window of her room. The lamp's dim light illuminated her skin, making it glow like a candle's flame. It was as if Ichigo was seeing her for the first time. She looked divine, practically angelic in her white night gown.
Why? Why was Ichigo still alive and breathing? And then he knew the reason. She was right before him. And Ichigo recalled the sound of his demise: her laughter. He had heard Orihime's carefree laugh for the first time at that pivotal moment.
It had not been a coincidence.
Her eyes that matched the sky watched Ichigo in a knowing way. She knew. There no doubt about it, Orihime was who kept him alive. Ichigo gazed up at her. A flash of lightning ripped across the horizon and in the next instant, Orihime was gone.
Ichigo turned on his heels and went back inside. With careful hands, he put the special bullet into an old matchbox. Then he tucked it away into the old chest in the drawer.
:
Orihime sat in the back seat of the Mercedes, her small hands folded on her lap. She resembled a China doll, still and ladylike. To Ichigo's dismay, there were no sparkling stars in her eyes. Each time he stole a look at the mirror, she stared straight ahead. But when he turned away, Orihime peeked at Ichigo.
Matsumoto sat beside her, flipping through a thick magazine. She was too absorbed in selecting clothes to notice the tense atmosphere.
As they crossed an intersection, a silver Corolla turned right and pulled in thirty meters behind it. The corners of his mouth tugging downward, Ichigo pulled out a scrap of paper from his pocket but he had nothing to write with. "Orihime, do you have a pencil?"
Orihime blinked and then rummaged through her school bag. Silently, she handed one over. Ichigo tried to stay calm to prevent her from catching on. He took it and slowed down to allow the trailing car to get closer. Squinting into the mirror, Ichigo tried to read the license plate.
Orihime wasn't oblivious, she sensed Ichigo's discomfort. She glanced back over her shoulder. It took her one try to memorize the plate. Swiftly, she pulled out her favorite pen and scribbled it down in an innocent looking, peach moleskin journal.
Brake lights flickered ahead and Ichigo lurched to a stop. The Corolla swerved around them and sped off. "Sorry," he grumbled.
Matsumoto muttered an okay, not tearing her attention away from the catalog.
Still, Orihime didn't speak, she merely nodded in acknowledgement. It annoyed Ichigo how hushed she suddenly was. He was seriously regretting his harsh words from yesterday. The desire to hear her voice was unnatural.
Ichigo craned to find the car again. Another Corolla drove by in the opposite direction. There were more and Ichigo realized it was a common and popular car. It relaxed his paranoia.
They pulled up to the school. Ichigo parked the car and stepped out to assist Orihime. Subtly, he watched her kiss Matsumoto's cheek and bid her goodbye.
"Don't forget your towel," reminded Matsumoto.
Orihime stepped out, carrying both a satchel and a duffle bag containing the towel. Ichigo held out her pencil as she brushed past him without a word only pausing to show him her pen, proving that she didn't need or require his help.
"She has swimming practice today," said Matsumoto when Ichigo got back inside. "You'll need to pick her up at the pool."
"Right."
Matsumoto closed her magazine. "I talked to her and she understands. She won't bother you anymore."
Ichigo's knuckles turned white as his grip on the wheel tightened. He should have been relieved or pleased but he only felt let down.
:
The company branched Matsumoto worked at was located in downtown Beijing. Like the other buildings surrounding it, the organization had several floors. Ichigo couldn't marshal his thoughts around the idea of Matsumoto being involved with a corporate job. The woman was much too vivacious to work in such a serious setting.
Waiting at the entrance was a lanky man with silver hair. He was dressed in a finely tailored suit and grinned widely when Matsumoto stepped out of the car. Ichigo was reminded of a fox when he got a closer look at the person.
Matsumoto smiled at the man, a twinkle in her eyes. "Gin."
Gin wrapped an arm around her slim waist and stole a kiss from her lips. Matsumoto seemed to sway on her feet and Ichigo was somewhat taken aback that she was interested in such a man. He didn't know the entire story but it spoke volumes that such an obviously attractive woman like her was drawn to someone so plain.
Beside the two were a petite woman with short brown hair and an equally as short young man with white hair. The woman looked embarrassed while the man seemed annoyed at the couple's display of affection.
"This is my fiancé, Gin Ichimaru," introduced Matsumoto after breaking away looking somewhat flushed. "And these are my friends, Momo Hinamori and Toshiro Hitsugaya."
Ichigo nodded at them.
Ichimaru studied Ichigo with interest, not quite hiding his disdain. "Oh, so you're the bodyguard? You used to be, what did they used to call it, a soldier of fortune?"
Ichigo merely nodded.
Ichimaru chuckled. "Does he talk?"
"So scary . . ." mumbled Hinamori to Hitsugaya.
Matsumoto shot Ichimaru a dirty look in reproach. He ignored her and followed Ichigo's gaze. "You see danger out there?" chortled Ichimaru. "The fear's worse than the reality."
Ichigo didn't respond.
Ichimaru's smirk turned condescending. "I always wanted to ask a bodyguard, would you take a bullet for your employer, for Iwao?"
"I wasn't hired to protect Iwao-san," said Ichigo coolly.
"For Orihime then?"
"Gin!" scolded Matsumoto, sending Ichigo an apologetic look. "Please, excuse him."
Ichimaru's words jarred Ichigo. Something snapped as the last of his tolerance waned. "If something happened," said Ichigo brusquely, "my reaction would be fight to protect her. I have skills in that respect. Orihime would benefit from the fact that . . . I'm a soldier."
Gin's leer evaporated. "What kind of answer is that?"
"The answer is the truth," snapped Ichigo. It would be such an easy task to snap Gin in two. "The question is foolish."
Matsumoto smiled in approval of Ichigo's answer. "That will do, Kurosaki-san," dismissed Matsumoto. "I will not be back until tomorrow so please look after Orihime."
Ichigo wasted no time leaving. He got back into the car and swerved from the curve, heading back to Orihime's school.
:
The school's indoor pool was impressive, it was up to date and renovated nicely. But it was also loud and chaotic due to the swimmers' practice. Coaches were yelling out instructions to the swimmers who responded stridently.
Several bodyguards were gathered near one end of the pull. They all sensed something dangerous about Ichigo because they all watched him cautiously as he passed by looking for Orihime. It hardly mattered to Ichigo what anyone else thought about him. He only cared about remaining focused and doing his job.
A gun went off.
Ichigo glanced over to see smoke rising from the starting pistol. The swimmers on the ledges all splashed into the water without hesitation except one. Orihime got a late start and was immediately trailing behind.
Orihime was competing in the fifty yard dash and was in fifth place. Her body flowed with the water rather than against it. Each one of her strokes was long and fluid, a familiar grace associated to them. Before Ichigo knew it, Orihime took fourth then third. He walked along beside her, watching her take second effortlessly.
Orihime closed into the wall, striding.
Second place.
Taking a deep breath, Ichigo strolled over to Orihime's lane. She broke from the water panting, an unusual frustrated expression on her face. Disappointment consuming her, Orihime dragged her cap from head and allowed her ridiculously long hair down.
"You're fast."
Orihime jolted and turned to Ichigo. He regretted approaching her so soon considering her current situation. Clad in a tight blue swimsuit, Orihime's rapidly rising chest captured Ichigo's attention.
"I never win."
Ichigo crouched down and offered her a large hand to help her out of the water. She pushed up her goggles, taken aback by his act of kindness. But then she beamed, blinding Ichigo with it brightness. She reached out and he closed his hand securely around hers.
Ichigo hauled her out of pool only to hurry and steady her when she staggered forward into his chest. Automatically, Orihime flinched back, turning scarlet. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine." Ichigo watched Orihime fidget and shift her weight from one foot to the other. It dawned on him that he made the girl uncomfortable. "Is your practice done?"
Orihime nodded and stepped back. "Let me change and we can go."
Ichigo awaited Orihime to reemerge from the locker rooms. Beside him, the pool's water sloshed against the walls. There was something chaotic about its rhythm that reminded him of the workings of his own heart. Ichigo inhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose.
He had decided that he'd try. For Orihime, it was the least he could do. It was not her fault that he had unresolved problems. But he'd make sure Orihime was safe as long as she was under his care. Perhaps if he'd tried hard enough, he'd succeed.
"Kurosaki-san?"
Amber eyes snapped open. Orihime stood in front of him dressed in a flowing skirt that reached just above her knees and a chic button up blouse. He could tell she had taken a quick shower by the tangy aroma of body wash that drifted from her pale skin. "Done?"
"Yes."
"Come on then."
Ichigo made sure to shorten his strides to allow Orihime to keep up. Without warning, he reached over and grabbed both her school and duffle bag and ignored her flustered protests.
Making a vain attempt to get back her things, Orihime exclaimed, "Ne, that's not necessary, Kurosaki-san!"
Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly.
Orihime peeked up at Ichigo as confusion washed over her. After speaking with Matsumoto, she had made an attempt to not trouble or annoy Ichigo anymore. However, Ichigo's behavior was different than the day before. Taking a chance, she gathered her courage before it quailed. "So, what should I do?"
Arching a brow, Ichigo glanced at her. "About what?"
"Swimming," clarified Orihime, making sure her eyes were glued to her feet. "I have a meet coming up and I'm entering the hundred and fifty freestyle."
"You tell me. You're the fastest one in the water and the slowest one off the block. The answer's clear, isn't it?"
It was, even Orihime knew it. But she could not help faltering when the gun went off. It was a reflex she could not shake off no matter how hard she tried. With that in mind, Orihime realized she had no chance at betting better than third at the competition.
Subtly, Ichigo watched Orihime become dejected. "Look, just work on it. You're talented enough so it shouldn't be a problem."
Orihime nodded and then smiled brilliantly. It meant a lot to her that Ichigo saw something special within her. "I guess you're right, Kurosaki-san. I'll just train harder."
Ichigo blinked rapidly to readjust his eyesight. Orihime's smile was blinding, a force that challenged the sun. The unconditional trust she offered made him nervous. He was beginning to wonder if he was making a mistake.
"Ne, Kurosaki-san, could you drive me to the sports store?" asked Orihime. "I need a new swimming cap since the one I have can't hold all of my hair anymore."
"Sure."
They reached the parked car and Ichigo opened the front door for Orihime. He surveyed her struggle internally but it didn't take long for her to give in and sit down. Although the drive was relatively quiet, it wasn't unpleasant. Ichigo sensed Orihime's discomfort fading away.
The store Ichigo took Orihime was located near the downtown area. Like a shadow, he trailed behind her. He kept a keen eye on her while she browsed through the store. Ichigo noted how Orihime had the tendency to sidetrack whenever she saw something she thought was fascinating. She was also a bit indecisive, she could not choose between two swim caps.
But that was the least of Ichigo's problems. He did not like the way the male clerk kept following her around and sending her covet glances. When his annoyance reached its limit, Ichigo shot the man a sharp glower that did the trick.
Slowly, Ichigo approached Orihime from behind and caught her mumbling to herself under her breath. Her fine eyebrows were scrunched together as she held both merchandise. "Oh, I can't decide . . . I like the white one but—"
"Just take them both," groused Ichigo.
Orihime looked up, puzzled. "Eh?"
"If you can't make up your mind then take both."
Down casting her large eyes, she apologized. "S-Sorry, this must be irritating for you."
"I just think I should get you home."
After Orihime went to the cash register and made her purchase, Ichigo escorted her out. His eyes expertly scanned the cars and people. Suddenly the traffic seemed to finish, expanding itself. The street turned ominously quiet, leaving a ringing in Ichigo's ear.
A police car came prowling down the empty street.
Then Ichigo spotted a business coming out of the doorway from the building across the street. A bodyguard flanked him, speaking into a two-way radio.
Ichigo's sixth sense kicked in as a Mercedes 500 pulled up to collect the business man. The police cruiser disappeared around the corner even as two men started toward the man. Then a second car squealed while it turned the corner behind the Mercedes.
Gun fire erupted.
Ichigo's wrapped an arm around Orihime's slim waist, sweeping her off her feet. The next thing Orihime knew, she was flattened on the ground with Ichigo atop of her, shielding her.
"Don't move," he ordered, pulling out his gun. "And don't look anywhere but me."
Orihime obliged, focusing on Ichigo's chocolate eyes. They flashed into something cold and hard as an instinct overcame him. The gunshots echoed in Orihime's ears but the sound of heart overpowered them. Chest to chest, Orihime felt Ichigo's own heart beating. His was deep, like a lion's while hers was nimble like a bird's
The bodyguard beside the businessman was instantly killed. The men in the Mercedes each unleashed a magazine before they were shot. A scrambling pedestrian fell to the floor, dead.
A gasp escaped Orihime as the glass window above them shattered. Panic erupted and her body began trembling uncontrollably. "K-Kurosaki-san—!"
"Don't look," growled Ichigo, grabbing the back of Orihime's head and pressing her face into his neck. "Stay still."
To distract herself, Orihime kept busy by memorizing Ichigo's scent and heat.
The business man was grabbed roughly and hustled into the back of the second car. The tires screeched as it raced off wildly.
Slowly, Ichigo rose, cradling Orihime against him. She turned her head and felt her breath catch in her throat. A bodyguard was sprawled out on the sidewalk, a pool of blood encircling him.
Frantic, Orihime began struggling, trying to break free. "Oh, God—I—I—He needs help! He needs help, Kurosaki-san! I have to help him or he'll die—!"
Ichigo held back a thrashing Orihime. "You can't help him, Orihime."
Orihime sobbed. "Please! I can't let him die!"
Ichigo tightened his grip on her. "There's nothing you can do."
Orihime shut her eyes tight and slumped. She buried herself into Ichigo's shoulder, still shaking. The only thing she could do was mumble numerous prayers she hoped would be heard.
:
Ichigo's jacket was draped over Orihime's shoulder as she sat in the front seat of the car. Through the window, she saw Ichigo wrap up his statement with a member of the judicial police. Finally, he slipped into the driver's side and immediately left the scene.
"Murdering people in the street. . ." whispered Orihime, shaking her head in disbelief. "You had your gun, why didn't you shoot them?"
"That had nothing to do with me or you," answered Ichigo. "Besides, if I started shooting they would've killed us both."
Orihime pulled several slivers of glass from her hair and looked from them to Ichigo. It was hitting her, how close to death they just were. The shock was starting to wear off at a rapid pace.
"A minimum close protection team consists of four men for high threat targets and environments. Even in a low threat situation, you need at least two guards plus a security trained driver."
Orihime dropped her head, her sheathe of ginger hair hiding her face. What little control she had left vanished as sparkling tears pooled in her wide eyes. Violent tremors attacked Orihime while a whimper escaped her lips.
Ichigo went rigid and turned to her. "Hey, what's wrong?"
"A-Ano, Kurosaki-san," said Orihime unevenly. She pushed the heals of her tiny hands to her eyes in a desperate effort to halt her crying. "I'll stop. Just—just give me a second—"
Instantly, Ichigo pulled over. "Orihime—"
"I'm sorry. It's just that I'm relieved and very sad," cried Orihime. "I'm glad we're safe. I'm very happy that you're not hurt or anything—"
Long fingers brushed back the curtain hair ruining Ichigo's view. He locked gazes with Orihime, her expressive eyes memorizing him. He couldn't help but be reminded of the night sky as he looked at them. They were filled comets, dazzling stars and supernovas but there were also black holes, darkness and never ending space.
"K-Kurosaki-san—?"
"Don't cry," breathed Ichigo. "You're alright now. We're both fine."
"Thank you," whispered Orihime. "Thank you so much for protecting me, Kurosaki-san."
Her voice was genuine and Ichigo found himself being drawn in by it. She was too much to ignore. And all that mattered was that Orihime was safe and unharmed. Ichigo didn't want to imagine if anything had happened to her.
Orihime took a shaky breath and forced a smile. "I'm glad you're my bodyguard."
The need to touch her overtook Ichigo. It scared him how breakable she looked and he had to make sure he hadn't failed at protecting her. So with great care, he reached over skimmed the curve of Orihime's jaw.
Her response was not what Ichigo had anticipated. Her sooty lashes swept against her finely carved cheekbones as she closed her eyes and leaned into Ichigo's touch.
Reason returned and Ichigo retracted his hand. Swallowing painfully, he shifted the car's gears. "I need to get you home."
Orihime ignored her eyes stinging again. "O-Okay . . ."
:
Ichigo sat in the chair by his bedroom window, a glass of scotch in hand. For hours he remained there until night crept upon him. He gazed at Orihime's dancing curtains with a serious look etched onto his strong features.
Ever since Orihime arrived home, he had been worried. No one beside the help was present so Ichigo was stuck to leave her alone. It had taken some time but she eventually calmed. Still, a knot had formed in Ichigo's gut.
On the other side of the transparent drapes, Orihime's soft silhouette emerged. Her body was made up of luscious curves that Ichigo could visibly see by her shadow. Frustrated, Ichigo ran a hand through his messy hair and tugged angrily.
"Shit."
He wanted her. He wanted her even though he was fully aware that he was not worthy. No matter how hard Ichigo tried, he could not shake off the longing he suddenly felt for the girl. It was the first time in years that he felt an emotion other than malice and grief.
Ichigo downed the rest of his drink and then walked over to switch on the television. Idly, he clicked through the channels, pausing on a news report. A woman with short dark hair and violet eyes was speaking about organized crime.
"This is an activity of organized crime; it's not a random kidnapping. These are not political like in Thailand . . ."
Sighing, Ichigo turned of the T.V. and laid in the dark. There was no chance of him falling to sleep easily so he grabbed a couple of pills from his nightstand and swallowed them dry.
:
The room was covered in shadows that slithered their way to the sleeping figure in the plush bed. Underneath fresh sheets, Orihime twitched and jerked. It was one of her worst nights and she was powerless to break out of her nightmares. Perhaps it was her overactive imagination that made the horrid dreams vivid and real.
With no other option, Orihime relived memories she had locked up in order to keep what little sanity she had left.
When she was eleven she heard a definite crack. It had startled her out so she slipped out of bed and went to see what it was. At the time, Iwoa had been gone on another one of business trip and was alone with her mother, Jun Inoue.
Orihime treaded into the parlor, her footsteps ghostly. It was where Jun spent most of her time drinking. Ever since Sora's death, Orihime hardly saw her mother sober.
"Okaa-san?" called Orihime timidly as she stepped into the room.
That's when she smelled the metallic aroma. Splattered across the walls was crimson blood. A pool of it was growing at her feet. It took her a moment to realize that her mother was dead on the floor and it was her who brought her own death.
Gasping, Orihime woke up. She checked the clock, reading the hour. It was just shy of four in the morning and no traces of light were visible. But that was always the case; it was always darkest before the dawn.
After some deep breathing, Orihime pulled her teddy bear to her voluptuous bosom. Before slipping back to sleep, she glanced out the window to Ichigo's housing. Recalling the gentle way he stroked her face made her face turn pink.
Although he appeared cold and aloof, Orihime concluded that Ichigo was a lot kinder than he let on.
"Thank you God," murmured Orihime. "Thank you for giving me Kurosaki-san."
