A/N: OMG, I can't believe the formatting did that! I should have checked after I posted that it came up alright. Sorry about that! Pheecat, I can't believe you stuck with it through that massive wall of text!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! This chapter is sad, too, but don't worry! Things cheer up soon. Please let me know what you think, I appreciate your feedback :)

Become a Ghost

by HardlyFatal

Chapter 2

Orihime wandered the streets the rest of the night. She saw various other plus spirits, even waved at them before continuing on her way. She visited the sewing store where she and Uryuu liked to get their supplies, the parks where they'd had so many battles, the high school that had been the sole common link between all of them.

She wondered if, when Sora-nii-chan had died, she'd gone away to live with her aunt instead of staying in Karakura. How would her life had differed? She'd never have come to love Ichigo, never developed her spiritual powers, never met Rukia or the other shinigami, never been kidnapped by Ulquiorra... so many amazing and frightening and wonderful things, and she'd have done none of them.

Was that... wistfulness that Orihime felt? Did she wish that had been the case, that she'd remained a normal person (well, as normal as Orihime was bound to get) instead of the girl who could raise people from the dead? But then, without her, so many people would have not been healed, or restored to life... shame at such a selfish thought filled Orihime, and she trudged on through the night.

A crackling split the air, and with a roar that made the shop windows tremble, a Hollow thrust itself through the barrier between Hueco Mundo and the living world. It looked like a praying mantis, with big buggy eyes that rolled wetly as it scoped out the vicinity for tasty souls to devour.

Orihime, with the ease of long practice and expertise, thought, Koten Zanshun, and Tsubaki streaked forward to effortlessly split the hapless Hollow in two. It dissolved into the night just in time for straw sandals and black hakama to appear in Orihime's down-tilted vision.

"Ah, Nakai-san, hello," she greeted the shinigami assigned to Karakura Town that month.

"Hardly any need for me here, between you and the others killing all the Holllows for me," he joked, smiling until he noticed her life-challenged state. "What happened, Inoue-san?"

"Appendicitis," she admitted.

"And you a doctor!" Nakai exclaimed. "I am sorry." His hand went to the hilt of his zanpakuto, the seal on the end of the hilt already glowing in preparation of konshou.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite ready to go yet, Nakai-san." She was able to summon a watery smile. "Don't worry about me, I'll get there in time!" She even managed a fist-pump, though it was lacking its usual energy.

He nodded. "I'll check back with you in-" he too assessed her chain "- two days. Please be ready by then." He leapt away into the overcast night.

The sky was lightening; it was almost morning. Saturday mornings were busy for Tatsuki at the dojo, and she was sure to be there early. Orihime couldn't put off telling her best friend for too much longer, but first, maybe another turn around town...

When the sun was fully risen and shining warmly over Karakura, Orihime forced her feet toward the dojo. Since buying it from her former instructor, Tatsuki's business degree had held her in good stead, and the dojo was enjoying success. The down side, however, was that it kept her there almost 24 hours a day. She even slept on the couch in the office, though she mentioned about once a week that she needed to get her own apartment.

Tatsuki was indeed in the second-story office, a wad of papers clenched in her fist and a pencil behind her ear as she peered far-sightedly at her computer monitor.

"Tatsuki-chan, I need to talk to you," Orihime said from the doorway.

"Sure, Orihime, just give me a-" Tatsuki's swift glance up from the monitor froze, then slowly returned. She wasn't as spiritually aware as her friends, but she knew that Orihime appearing before her with a chain dangling from her chest was not good. "What- Orihime, what-"

"I'm dead!" Orihime tried to make it cheerful, grinning witlessly and rubbing the back of her head. "Stupid me, last night wasn't indigestion, it was appendicitis!" She knocked herself on the forehead a few times. "Oops."

Tatsuki darted from behind the desk to stand in front of her friend. Her eyes were huge and horrified. "Orihime, no. No!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry!" But she couldn't maintain the facade for long, and her grin faded as tears began to choke her. "I'm sorry." Tatsuki grabbed her, hugged her hard. "I'm really sorry, Tatsuki-chan."

This time, it was not Orihime who howled. Tatsuki threw back her head and wailed, tears running down her cheeks. Orihime cried right along with her, until they were both exhausted and shaking.

"We have to tell the others," Orihime said at last. She felt as limp as an old dishrag. Dying itself, in such pain, had been bad enough, but this emotional stuff was even worse, if that were possible. "They need to know."

Tatsuki nodded, looking a bit limp herself. "Give me a second. I'll send out an email to all the students and instructors, saying the dojo will be closed until further notice."

"Oh, but I don't want to cost you so much money!" Orihime protested, waving her hands.

Tatsuki just levelled a flat, unhappy glare at her. "Seriously? Orihime, some things are more important. I can afford to take a few days off because you died."

Orihime hung her head. "I guess I just don't want anything to change. I want you happily running your dojo, not upset and worrying about me."

"Too late for that." Tatsuki typed rapidly for a minute, sniffling wetly the while, then rose from her chair.

They walked through the incongruously cheerful morning, Orihime silent, Tatsuki using her cell phone to call everyone and request a meeting at Orihime's apartment. As soon as they arrived, Orihime went to the kitchen to make tea and Tatsuki expended some frustrated energy by rearranging the furniture so there was enough seating for everyone.

As she filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, Orihime took the opportunity to look around her little kitchen. It wasn't much- a med student earned basically nothing, so it was all ancient fixtures and appliances of dubious pedigree- but it was hers.

How many times had she cooked something delicious for herself here? Or something less delicious, but which Tatsuki would actually eat, for her friend? This was the same place she'd lived in all through high school and college, during all the fighting and war. Rangiku-chan and Toushirou-kun had lived here with her, the three of them jammed in together like puppies in a pile, and she had loved it, had loved that feeling of family and belonging.

And soon it was going to be someone else's home, because Orihime was dead and she could not come back and there was no way out of it. She clenched her fingers around the edge of the sink, head low, and fought to suppress yet another bout of tears.

A knock on the door, and then their friends were crowding in, noisy and chattering at once, like usual. Chad's bass rumble, Uryuu's lighter tenor, and between them- just right, she'd always thought- was Ichigo's baritone. Mizuiro and Chizuru had come as well.

"Where's my Hime-chan?" demanded Chizuru, and soon they were all baying for her to come out. It made her smile just a little, and she used the hem of her shirt to blot her face before squaring her shoulders and stepping into the other room.


Their smiles of greeting faded almost immediately, when they noticed they could see the kitchen door through Orihime, except for Chizuru, who couldn't sense spirits at all.

"What's going on?" she demanded loudly, grabbing and shaking Mizuiro's arm. "Why is everyone so scared of the kitchen door?" She thought a second. "Hey, did the kitchen door just open and close by itself?"

Tatsuki slumped onto her corner of the sofa, but everyone else leapt to their feet.

"Inoue," Ichigo breathed. He was just as tall and handsome as ever, and just as unreachable. There was some sort of barricade around Ichigo's heart, and Orihime had driven herself to distraction in trying to find a way past it. She'd tried finding a key, jumping over, and even blasting through its walls, but the barricade seemed impenetrable. And now she was dead, and would have no more time to try to breach it.

"What happened?" Ichigo ran his hand through his hair, making it stand up even more wildly. "Was it a Hollow? Where the hell is that new shinigami, I'll-"

Uryuu stared, looking positively thunder-struck. "I knew you weren't just tired last night," he said. "I thought it was-" He cut himself off, darting a glance at Ichigo before turning back to Orihime. "But you were sick."

Chad reached out and pulled her into his massive arms as tears rolled down his cheeks. Mizuiro dragged Chizuru aside and whispered an explanation to her.

"What? Dead? My precious Orihime?" the girl shouted, looking wildly around.

"Kurosaki-kun," Orihime interrupted gently, prying herself from Chad's grasp and wringing her hands, "it was my appendix. It ruptured." She met his burning gaze, saw in it his desperation to have been able to fix it. "There's nothing anyone could have done."

Another tense silence, marred only by the faint chime of Orihime's chain as it swung from her chest.

"What will you do now?" asked Uryuu. He stepped closer and placed a hand, light as a bird's feather, on her arm.

"I'll get a konshou and go to Soul Society." She stared down at where she was twisting her fingers together. "I just wanted to let everyone know myself. And... and say goodbye," she finished in a rush, her throat no longer working as the tears came again.

Uryuu's arm came around her this time, with Chad pressing up close to her other side. After getting a translation from Mizuiro, Chizuru stumbled across the room, trying to find them. Chad took her hand and guided it to Orihime's shoulder, and for the first time, the girl didn't try to cop a feel, instead simply holding on to the invisible person in front of her and weeping. Tatsuki stood and made her way over as well, not touching Orihime, just staring.

But Orihime had eyes for no one but Ichigo. His warm brown eyes were burning with misery and regret. "Kurosaki-kun, will you perform the soul burial on me?"

He reared back as if she'd struck him. "Inoue..."

"Please, Kurosaki-kun. It's the only thing you're able to give me."

The others averted their eyes, aware they were in the middle of something that should have been private. Ichigo looked confused, but everyone else knew exactly what Orihime meant. Ten years of loving him, fighting by his side, and he remained as stubbornly oblivious as ever.

The apartment door banged open, then, to reveal Rukia. She was panting, chest heaving from what appeared to have been a mighty exertion.

"That was fast," murmured Uryuu, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Nakai is Sixth Division," she said. "When Orihime refused to let him perform the soul burial, he contacted Nii-sama, who told me." The others drew back as she approached Orihime. "I'm glad you remembered to wait for me!"

Truth to tell, Orihime had recalled no such thing. She had just wanted to say goodbye and have Ichigo be the one to do her konshou. But now that it was mentioned, she did remember Rukia saying something about waiting for her if any of them ever died. "Er..."

"You didn't remember!" Rukia shrieked. "Orihime! That was important!"

"Don't yell at her!" Ichigo roared back. "She just fucking died, Rukia!"

That sobered her, and she turned to Orihime with a bow of apology. "I'm sorry, Orihime-chan. I didn't mean-"

"It's fine, it's fine," Orihime said, having to make an effort to keep an edge from her voice. Abruptly, she felt exhausted, and wanted the whole thing done with. She understood that everyone was very upset on her behalf, because they loved her, and she felt so lucky and, and rich to have so many wonderful friends. At the same time, it was her death. She was the one who had died, and she wasn't feeling inclined to play referee between them because they couldn't prevent themselves from kicking up a fuss.

"Why was I supposed to wait for you?" she asked Rukia.

"So I can seal your memories to your soul, so you don't forget everything," Rukia replied quickly. "And then, I'll teach you how to send a message with a hell butterfly, so when you arrive in Soul Society, I can find you right away."

It sounded like a great idea; it sounded perfect. Why, then, was Orihime feeling like maybe, possibly, she didn't want to do it? The idea of starting over fresh, without the heavy baggage of this lifetime, was... actually pretty tempting. She closed her eyes, and thought about it for a moment.

No recollections of her abusive father and negligent mother; none of poor Sora and the guilt that still lingered after so much time. Ah, guilt, her constant companion for the past dozen years. No more guilt over being the weakest of their group of fighters, no more guilt about Hueco Mundo.

And no more loving someone who was never, ever going to love her back.

Once, Orihime thought she wanted to love Ichigo for five lifetimes. Somewhere along the way, she realized that she had already loved him five lifetimes' worth, and it hadn't made a lick of difference. And she had begun to resent him, for his thick-headedness and obstinance and sheer obliviousness, and to hate herself for being unable to withdraw from this hateful, hurtful, pointless, useless love.

She'd tried avoiding him, but their friends had all asked why. Ichigo had asked why, and what could she tell him? That she loved him so much that she hated him? That the sight of him was so joyful and so painful that it made her want to live and die and swim and drown and fly and crash, all at the same time?

So Orihime kept quiet about it, and put on a cheerful face, and buried herself in her studies. If she had to study all night instead of going out with the group, that was just normal for a med student, right?

No more faking it, now. No more cheerful face or excuses needed. Orihime was dead, and she didn't have to see any of them ever again. She didn't have to think about the ugly painful parts of her life, or her brain or heart, anymore. Relief felt like a trickle of cool water down her back on a hot day.

"Orihime-chan?" Rukia's tiny hand was cool on her wrist. Orihime opened her eyes to find everyone staring at her. Rukia must have seen something worrying in her eyes, because she got a look of resolve on her face before turning to the others.

"I need to talk to Orihime. Everyone out." She began herding them out the door, ignoring their protests, using her foot for greater force in shoving the increasingly-belligerent Ichigo into the hallway.

"Even me?" asked Tatsuki, coming forward, looking concerned.

"Even you," Rukia said, her voice gentler than with the others. "Come back later, she'll still be here. I promise."

Once Tatsuki was gone, Rukia turned to Orihime, hands on hips, very determined. "Now, then," she began, before shooting an irate glance over her shoulder. "I KNOW YOU'RE LISTENING AT THE DOOR! FUCK OFF, ICHIGO!"

"BITCH!" he snarled back, and then his footsteps stomped off down the hall to the stairs.

Rukia concentrated a moment more before being satisfied that they were finally alone. "Now, then," she repeated, guiding Orihime to sit on her own sofa. "Besides being dead, of course, what's wrong?"

Orihime took a deep breath. "Of course, you're so kind and nice and generous for taking the time and effort to come here to seal my memories to my soul. But, but, but, I'm thinking possibly I, uh, maybe don'twanttoremember." She spit out the last few words in a rush, afraid that if she didn't say them fast, she wouldn't say them at all.

Instead of the disappointment or shock that Orihime expected, Rukia only smiled sadly, and took one of Orihime's hands in her own. "I understand," she said, and Orihime thought maybe she really did. Her own life hadn't been that great, either. "This is a decision you have to make for yourself, and I won't push you in one direction or the other. But please try to remember that for every bad thing you'd be forgetting, there is at least one- maybe more- good thing you'd also be losing."

Orihime thought about that for a while. She could do away with her bad memories of her parents, her guilt about Sora and Hueco Mundo, and her fruitless love for Ichigo... but she'd also lose Tatsuki, and red bean paste, and sewing with Uryuu, and Chad's beautiful Spanish guitar music, and how many people she'd healed and saved with her Shun Shun Rikka. She'd lose knowing she had fought the good fight, risked her life and survived being a part of a war that had literally saved the world.

And she'd leave behind an entire group of people who would be devastated because they no longer meant anything to her.

Orihime knew in that moment that she couldn't do it. She still somewhat wanted to, but she just couldn't do that to them. It wasn't just the people themselves, but the relationships she'd built with them, and the memories that went along with them. They were precious, and losing her memories of them felt like she would be throwing them away, discarding them like the trash Ulquiorra claimed they were.

So she lifted tear-drenched eyes to Rukia, and said, "I'll do it." Life was all about sacrifices.

It seemed like death was, too.


That evening, everyone assembled in Orihime's apartment once more.

"So now you know how to summon a hell butterfly. The kidou I will perform now will save your memory at the precise moment it takes effect. Once you wake up in Soul Society, you won't remember anything that happens after it's complete." Rukia said before they arrived. She smiled gently. "So make sure you do absolutely everything before I begin it, you don't want to forget anything important."

Orihime nodded, and went to open the door to her friends for the last time. They bustled in, a somber group laden with packages.

Mizuiro gave her a lovely brush-and-comb set for her hair; Chizuro, half a dozen satin brassieres that had Ichigo shouting even as he slowly turned a mottled purple.

"But I don't know if they have proper support garments in Heaven!" Chizuro protested tearfully, for once seeming genuine and not lecherous. Orihime thanked them both graciously.

"For Orihime-san, so she doesn't get bored without any hobby materials," Uryuu said as he handed his parcel to her with one hand, the other pushing up his glasses. His gift was a beautiful sewing kit in the form of a multi-tiered lacquered box. It contained scissors, needles of every size and purpose, measuring tape, beeswax rounds to slick embroidery floss, and an entire rainbow of brilliant silk thread on slim wooden spools.

It was so perfectly Uryuu- thoughtful, useful, beautiful- that Orihime hugged him until he gasped for breath. Still, he smiled to see how happy she was to receive it.

Chad needed to unwrap his gift himself; he shucked his jacket, then rolled up his right sleeve to reveal the new tattoo on his shoulder: a blue six-pointed flower in the exact shape of Orihime's hairpins. Curving over the top of the flower was the name "Orihime" in cursive Romanji, and yesterday's date- the day she died- curving below it. She hugged him too, and this time she was the one gasping, as his strong arms curled around her.

Tatsuki handed her a gigantic photo album filled with pictures from all their years as friends. "I had them reprinted onto acid-free archive paper, so they won't get yellow or decay for decades. Maybe longer." Orihime didn't trust herself to look through them, knowing the photos would make her sob hysterically.

"Tatsuki-chan," she whispered, and reached out to her friend. Tatsuki grabbed her, and they rocked back and in forth in each other's arms for long moments, the room silent but for the sound of sniffling. Chizuru, Rukia, and Chad were crying quietly, Mizuiro and Ichigo were staring fiercely in opposite corners, and Uryuu was simply watching them, sorrow softening his sharp blue eyes.

When the girls released each other, they turned automatically to Ichigo, the only one left who hadn't presented anything yet. His eyes were burning again. Orihime wondered, not for the first time, or even the thousandth, what he was thinking when his eyes blazed like that.

"I don't have anything good enough to give you," he rasped, digging in his pocket. "This is the only thing I can think of that comes close." He stuck out his hand, palm up; in it lay his substitute shinigami badge, the item he had used to focus his Fullbring and eventually regain his shinigami powers.

"Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime breathed. "Your badge! But it's so important to you!" Her hands came up, and she backed away a step.

His customary glower deepened, then relaxed. "Then you'll have to take it, to keep it safe for me." He even managed the smallest of smiles.

Orihime felt faint, just for a moment. This could have been a moment of true progress for him, for them. And it came about because she was dead, and there would be no chance for her to work with it. Honestly, her life was so ridiculous, it was almost like a comedy show.

She kind of liked that idea: "The Inoue Orihime Comedy-Mecha-Ninja Hour" definitely had appeal. She took the badge from Ichigo's hand, and laughed.

Time for final goodbyes, then. Orihime's smile soon faded as each of them came forward for one last hug, and a few last words. She allowed Chizuru one last grope. She kissed the boys full on the lips, even finding the courage to plant a good long one on Ichigo, to his immense shock.

"I'm ready," she told Rukia. "Let's do it now, so my last memory is of me happy."

It took under a minute; Rukia chanted, there was a flash of violet light and a little ping! in the recesses of Orihime's brain, and it was done.

Orihime took the badge Ichigo had just given her, and gently pressed it to his chest. His vacant body fell back to the floor, and his soul stood before her in its shihakushou, Zangetsu poking up over his shoulder.

He plucked it from his back and reversed his grip on it so the hilt was held forward, the konsou seal already starting to glow. To her shock, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss between her eyes, just where he would lay the seal. "Goodbye, Inoue."

Orihime managed a smile for him, reaching up to touch his cheek with her fingertips as he brought the hilt to her brow. "Goodbye... Ichigo."

And then she faded away.