A/N: Moving took a lot more time and a lot more out of me that I thought it would. I got a little stuck on a certain part, too, so I took a few days away from it. On with the show!

Disclaimer: Like everyone else who isn't Tite Kubo or Shounen JUMP, I don't own Bleach. This is written purely for enjoyment.

Thirty days. That's how long she'd been out. And it was driving Ichigo crazy.

He'd spent those days sleep, nutrient and sunlight-deprived. That short few moments she'd woken hadn't really counted for much, other than to assure him that she was passibly among the living.

After that stint, Ichigo had hollered out into the shop that she had woken up for a second, and that she wasn't giving off weird feedback when she was touched. Moments after, Rangiku, Tatsuki and Rukia had rushed in, others coming in a little more subdued behind them.

Rukia set her hands astrider her hips and frowned down at him from her lofty angle. "Let go, Ichigo."

Her request made his grip on Inoue's shoulders that much tighter. It was the only movement he made for several moments. "No," he barely whispered.

"Let Orihime go, Ichigo!" Tatsuki's irritated request didn't even register. He barely rolled with her impressive hook to the side of his head, lessening the impact on them both out of sheer instinct.

"Now, now~!" came the jovial lilt from the proprietor of the shop, waving his hands and smiling brightly. "No need for violence, Arisawa-san!" The blonde turned towards Ichigo. "You should probably let her go, Kurosaki-san." Ichigo didn't budge.

"Ichigo."

The owner of the name flinched at his tall friend's gentle yet firm call, but still didn't relinquish the woman in his arms. The mob of friends around them were losing their patience with him; he could tell from the spikes in their reiatsu. He didn't care.

"Bakudo no Ichi: Sai!"

Ichigo felt his arms forced behind his back painfully, Tatsuki catching their friend when he was forced to let go. He finally turned his face up to the person who had restrained him. "Damn you, Rukia! Lemme go!"

Sado was already hauling his best friend to his feet by his right tricep, dragging him out of the room. "C'mon," he muttered; always a man of few words.

Rukia called after them her thanks, and the shoji slid shut after all of the menfolk had been chased out of Orihime's room.

Ishida followed after the two, sighing irritatedly at his bleached classmate-slash-rival's protests, with Urahara and Renji bringing up the rear. Ichigo was deposited on his futon wordlessly while the tattoo'ed vice captain closed the screen behind them.

Ichigo broke out of the Bakudo without trying too hard, but he made no move to try to get past his jailers who had taken to guarding the door. Truth be told, he could have broken it immediately, but some unconscious part of him prevented it. He wouldn't admit out outwardly, but he was aware of just how unreasonable it was for him to cling to Inoue like he had been; like some snot-nosed gaki.

"You done?"

Ichigo snorted in Renji's direction, opting instead to stare at a wall and not make eye contact with any of them. Friends? No. They were traitors! Scared of a bunch of … well, scary women.

"Arisawa-san and company are going to get her changed, Kurosaki," Ishida sighed again; he was doing that a lot lately. But this situation had them all on edge; it wasn't just Ichigo. He was given a glower in profile from the man all-but-pouting on the floor. Ishida returned the glower with interest.

After several moments, Renji simply clocked Ichigo upside the head, eyes closed, irritation plain on his face.

"Ow! What the hell!" The victim of abuse rubbed the back of his skull.

"I know you don't wanna peep while they're changing her," he snapped, paused, then turned a slightly bemused eye on his target. "Or do you?"

Ichigo bristled. "Don't lump me in with you, I wouldn't-"

I would.

"-I'm not like that." He had twitched when his alter made the comment and then proceeded to cackle in his mind. Shut up! That only made the cackling louder.

The twitch wasn't lost on Urahara. Very interesting…

That had been five days ago.

Ichigo absently ruffled his hair; it was getting long again. A yawn escaped his lips and he rolled his left shoulder to loosen it up. That fifteen minute nap earlier with his head on his arm at a weird angle had tweaked it. He turned to regard his charge, now dressed in a pale orange yukata and a blue obi the color of her hairpains. Her coverlet was pulled up over her; it was nearing three in the morning and the fall nights were growing colder as each day passed.

He noticed the flutter of eye movement behind her lids, and sat back cross-legged to watch her, unable to suppress another yawn from escaping. She must be dreaming.

Dreaming of me.

Must be a nightmare, then.

A nightmare is still a dream, King. The feigned amusement wasn't lost on Ichigo. Even his shadow was worried, despite trying to crack inappropriate jokes at the worst possible moments.

He must have dozed off again sitting there, as when his eyes opened again, they met with a pair of periwinkle gray eyes and a tired smile that sobered him up immediately. "Inoue?"

"Hi, Kurosaki-kun," she whispered.

She started to sit up slowly, and he placed his hands on each of his knees, leaning slightly forward but not enough to invade her personal space. She was settling herself carefully into seiza, tucking some errant strands behind her ears, then turned a ghost of a smile on him which both set him at ease as well as concerned him. He acted on the latter.

"You okay?"

"Hmm?" she offered, studying him, slightly blushing. "I'm okay, Kurosaki-kun. How are you?"

He waved her off slightly, shifting his left arm to prop his head in his hand, elbow on the side of his kneecap. "I'm not the one who was out for five weeks," he deadpanned.

"Five weeks?!" she squeaked, her voice cracking from lack of use; in typical Orihime fashion, her eyes had enlarged quite comically for a moment, then retracted. She looked down at herself, patting her arms, legs, hair, finally noticing what she was wearing.

"Yeah, about th-"

"D-d-did you ch-change me?" Orihime barely managed to get out around her embarrassed stuttering, covering her face in mortification. The tips of her ears were peeking out behind her hair, rose-red.

"No!" he snapped, having the grace himself to blush ever so slightly. For good measure, he looked away from her, scratching the side of his face, eyes closed. "No, it was Tatsuki." Ichigo sighed, then turned back to fix the girl before him with a serious stare, which caused her to sit further upright. "Inoue, listen," he put both of his hands on his knees again & leaned slightly closer. "Whaddaya remember last?"

"Hmm…" she put a finger to her chin & looked up at the ceiling. The images of Ichigo's hollow form flashed past her mind's eye. "I remember coming through the Garganta after y-your hollow form, and then nothing until now. Why?"

Ichigo slowly explained to her the little that he'd heard from Urahara by way of Ishida, watching her reaction critically as he did so. Her shoulders had started to slump as he walked her through everything; by the end, she had her face back in her hands; this time, there was no embarrassment to hide in the palms of her gentle hands. When he was finished, he sat there for several moments saying nothing more as he gave her time to digest.

"Inoue," he began again, and she let her fingers drop, turning to look at him questioningly, her head slightly tilted to one side. He wasn't sure just how to say this, because if it were him, he's be shocked no matter what. The young man ruffled his hair and sighed. He just needed to spit it out. "Your reiatsu is gone."

Orihime stared at him. "What do you mean 'gone'?"

"Can you sense my reiatsu?" he pressed.

"Yes, I-" she closed her mouth and her eyes widened. Then they narrowed, studying him, leaning closer as if that would help her see his pressure. It always seemed to give her the impression of something spicy and delicious being grilled on a backyard hibachi at dusk. His chaotic and oppressive reiatsu, like an overly-tight embrace from a lover, that seemed to both spike her adrenaline and calm her nerves at the same time.

The lack thereof was like a double slap in the face.

Ichigo stayed still, holding his breath, as she seemed to be trying to see something. Something that wasn't there. She looked as though she was about to start hyperventilating. He sighed & dropped his head to his chest for a beat, then looked back at her directly.

She was like an animal in the headlights of a car, frozen, as if she was sure any moment she'd be mowed over. Her hands were clenched so tightly into fists on her thighs, that he could see her knuckles turning white. She was looking through him, as if he hadn't been still sitting there mere inches away. On impulse, he reached out & covered her fists in his hands, which snapped her back to the room, giving her hands a firm squeeze.

"Can you call the Shun Shun Rikka?" he barely spoke above a murmur. It was the last hope he had. Maybe her pressure was being suppressed or something? No one could sense her, and she couldn't sense anyone else either, apparently. But it didn't mean she had lost her power altogether. "Maybe you're just blocked, or…" he trailed off.

Orihime was shaking her head slowly, her light ginger strands slipping down over her shoulders as she bowed her head. "I've been trying… they won't come," she whispered brokenly, her shoulders starting to shiver with the incoming tears that were pooling in her eyes behind her bangs. She gripped his large hands in her small ones as tightly as she could. "Santen Kesshun: I reject," she muttered brokenly.

Ichigo's stomach dropped. The golden shield that should have appeared between them was worryingly absent. His last hope that her spiritual power was still there somehow disapperated like smoke on the wind.

Dawn had broken an hour after Orihime had cried herself back to sleep. Ichigo had said nothing further as she wept against him, he simply kept his hand on her shoulder to hold her upright, slightly distracted himself. When he'd felt her still, he shelved his own thoughts and tucked her gently back onto the futon, covering her.

He knew he should try to sleep, but with all that had happened in the last couple of hours, his mind was wired. He was already trying to think of plans and ways to get Inoue's power back.

When the rest of the guests in the shop started to stir, they found him staring at her but not really seeing her. He came out of his thoughts enough to grunt at Ishida who had sat down next to him.

"She woke up a little while ago."

This caused the Quincy to turn quickly towards his classmate with wide eyes. "Thank goodness!" Ichigo respected the relief he could hear in Ishida's quiet voice, but somehow he felt a little irritated by it, and he didn't know why.

"Inoue wants to go to school, so I'm gonna take her back to her apartment," Ichigo muttered as he stood up, and stretched languidly.

"Did you tell her-" Ishida began.

"Yeah," he cut the man off, bitter about the situation. "She can't sense anyone else, either."

Ishida stood soundlessly then, motioning for Ichigo to follow him out the door. After the exited & closed her door, the shorter man led them over to the other guest room. "Is it wise to let her go to school just after she woke up?"

"Probably not, but I couldn't talk her out of it," Ichigo sighed. "She thinks it'll be a good distraction," he continued.

Ishida nodded slowly, considering. "All three of us will be there too, so it should be fine."

"Yeah," he agreed.

While the two of them conversed, Orihime had been feigning sleep. When the boys had left her alone, she rolled over onto her other side, silently trying to call her fairies out, hope draining away like sand in an hourglass. She wanted to scream and to cry. It was terribly unfair; she had finally been able to do something important with her power, and now it was gone.

Not being able to sense any of them… to sense Kurosaki-kun… had been a gigantic blow. Would she never be able to feel that tightness around him ever again? It had been such a comforting feeling, and now she felt … empty.

Without the Shun Shun Rikka, Orihime felt completely disconnected from everything.

A/N: Let me know what you think! Or don't. Up to you.