A/N: And heeeeeeere's everyone's favorite frosty bishie. Thanks to everyone for your reviews :)

Become a Ghost

by HardlyFatal

Chapter 3

Orihime awoke lying flat on her back, staring up at a blue sky with fluffy white clouds skidding across it. She sat up and realized she was in the middle of a dirt road. The buildings to either side were old-fashioned and plain, but not in too bad a condition. She wondered where the heck she was.

Then she wondered who the heck she was.

And then, with a click she could almost hear, her memories dropped back into her mind like flower petals drifting down, down, down.

For a moment, the sheer weight of them pressed her down, threatened to crush her beneath them. Orihime took deep breaths until the sense of oppression eased, and got to her feet. She bent over to bat at her clothing, to brush the dust off, and lying on the ground at her feet, saw-

"A zanpakutou?" The hilt-wrapping was the same blue of her hairpins, and the guard was a six-pointed flower in their shape as well. She picked it up and felt a hum buzz through it into her hand. There was a sensation of warmth, and a feeling of rightness. This sword was meant to be in her hand; it had been created solely for her use. Well, at least she knew where her future lay: clearly, a career as a shinigami was ahead of her, if she wished.

Did she wish? Orihime gazed around at her dreary environment and thought, I don't have to send a hell butterfly to Rukia. I don't have to let anyone know where I am. I might not be able to forget, but... maybe I can start new, anyway.

She liked the idea so much that she decided to consider it seriously, at least for a while, and began to explore her surroundings.

Upon turning a corner, she found herself in what must have been a main thoroughfare. After wandering down it for a few minutes, she made her way toward an old woman running a vegetable stall.

"Excuse me, where am I?" she asked with a polite bow. "Which district?"

"Ah, just got here?" the woman commented, gifting Orihime with a toothless grin. "You're in East Rukongai, district 41."

"Thank you!" Another bow, and Orihime was on her way once more. District 41 wasn't too too far from Seireitei, was it? She could take her time and walk there and enjoy her last lingering moments of anonymity before contacting Rukia. She shaded her eyes and peered into the distance, trying to figure out which way was west.

Orihime was beginning to see that her plan was not as straightforward as she'd hoped- after walking for a very long time, it was now long past dark, she was starving, her feet hurt, and she'd only just left District 41 and entered 40. On top of those problems, she'd noticed an increasing number of men following her, their expressions best described as "predatory". Orihime was used to men looking at her with appreciation, but this had a more feral edge to it that made her nervous.

She'd been busy, as she walked. She'd tried calling on her fairies but none had appeared. She had a zanpakuto now, instead of the hairpins, so perhaps they didn't exist any more? Or existed solely in the zanpakuto's private world that Ichigo and Rukia, even Renji, had mentioned... Orihime supposed she'd have to meditate, once she found a peaceful spot, to see about that.

She'd also given some thought to her idea about not contacting Rukia. There didn't seem much point to it- these Rukongai districts were immense; it would take her months to work her way to Seireitei, and in the meanwhile, how would she live? If she weren't going to settle down, she couldn't establish a way to make a living, earn money for food and lodging for herself.

And, gods help her, she was lucky enough to have 'contacts on the inside'. Retaining her memories as she did, she wasn't forced like the rest of these poor souls to eke out an existence because of lack of alternative. Orihime had choices. It seemed, well, stupid not to avail herself of them. She uttered the incantation Rukia had taught her, and a hell butterfly appeared, its wings dark velvet against the surrounding night.

"Hi, Rukia-chan, it's Orihime! I'm on the main street at the border of Districts 40 and 41 of East Rukongai." After recording it, she had to give an address, so the butterfly knew where to go. So many hours after her death, she didn't know where Rukia might be just then. It seemed safest to send it to her home, so she said, "The Kuchiki Estate, Seireitei-"

"Oy, everyone, she knows someone on an estate, she does," mocked one of the men who'd been following her for the past hour.

She'd been so occupied with the butterfly, she'd forgotten to pay attention to her surroundings. Stupid. Then she noticed that being interrupted had made the butterfly disappear. Had it had enough information to be sent? Drat.

"Excuse me," she told the men politely, and began to walk away briskly, hoping her businesslike stride would dissuade them from pursuing her.

She hadn't gotten a block before their steps were pattering behind her once again, closing in fast. She thought, Santen Kesshun, and felt rather than heard the familiar hum as her shield sprang into place. She spared a moment to expand its size until it stretched from one side of the road to the other, completely cutting off traffic, and then broke into a run. It wouldn't take long until they got over their surprise and simply went around the buildings on either side of her barrier.

As she ran, she reformed the shield every time she passed another set of buildings, always keeping progress down the main street blocked with her shield. Footsteps to either side, however, told her that at least two of the men were quite speedy and able to keep up with her by taking unblocked side streets. Eyes darting to her surroundings, Orihime saw that one of the closer buildings had a small covered porch, and she dashed for it, forming her shield across the open front of it just as the men reached her.

As Orihime caught her breath, the rest of the men caught up to where she had barricaded herself. They poked fingers at the glowing gold shield, and when they saw that touching it didn't hurt, began to push and then beat on it.

"So cold," one of them jeered. "And here was us wanting to give you a warm welcome to the afterlife."

"I can maintain my shield for hours," she told them. "Maybe days. Do you really want to bother trying to get through?"

"C'mon, honey, we just want to have a good time," another of them said, grinning and leering as he pounded on the shield.

"Good for who?" she shot back. "Don't you have anything better to do than try to rape strange women?" If Orihime had that kind of spare time on her hands, she'd pick up another hobby or work on achieving inner calm or something.

Orihime heard some thumps from within the house, behind her, and realized they were trying to get to her from inside it. Ugh. Persistent little buggers.

"I didn't want to have to do this, but you gave me no choice," she told them sadly, and formed Shiten Koushun on the outside of the other shield, then reformed Santen Kesshun behind her just as the door opened at her back. The chatty fellow in front of her struck out again, expecting nothing different-

-but it was a different shield, this time, and he was forcefully thrown back to land on the far side of the street.

The other men stopped assaulting her shields to gape, then scrambled back to avoid coming into contact with them.

"You can't stay in there forever, bitch," one of them hissed. "We can wait."

"Enough." A deep voice rumbled the word down into the street from above.

Orihime reared back, peering into the shadows clustering around the rooftops. Across the street, at the very peak of a roof, stood Kuchiki Byakuya. As she watched, with a strong sense of surreality to have him come to her rescue (as it were), he stepped off the roof and drifted, as lightly as a sakura blossom, to the dirt road below. Orihime thought it looked very dramatic and wondered if he'd planned it like that. It was certainly an exciting way to make an entrance.

His gaze was fixed on her. "You should have just killed them when they first gave chase, instead of wasting your time with shields."

Her attackers, for their parts, were staring in horror as they began to understand their newly-grave situation. A shinigami had arrived; no, not a mere shinigami. A captain. Their lives were forfeit, and they knew it.

"Ahaha," said Orihime. "You know I don't like to kill if I can help it, Byakuya-sama."

Byakuya slid a dismissive glance over the cowering bunch. "It would be a mercy to such as these." He didn't move a muscle, but Orihime could feel his reiatsu burgeon, spiking until the men choked and dropped, falling unconscious in the face of such immense power.

Once they were all down, Orihime dropped her shields, fore and aft. She wished she could tidy herself up without seeming obvious about it. After her long walk, then more recently her panicked run for freedom, she was sweaty and dusty. Next to his impeccable person, she felt even sweatier and dustier. "Thank you for helping me! Can I ask what you are doing here?"

"I received a butterfly with your direction," he replied. "I presume you meant to send it to my sister; however, it was delivered to me."

"I'm sorry to have bothered you," she said. In spite of having known him for ten years, it was hard to know how to behave near Byakuya. Rukia worshipped him, Ichigo was his usual irreverent self, and Renji's opinion seemed poised on a dagger's edge between admiration and terror. It didn't help that Byakuya was the least emotive person she'd ever met.

His facial expressions ran the gamut from A to C: there was his default bored look, where he appeared 30 seconds from falling asleep; there was his semi-alert 'I'm paying attention but couldn't care less' look; and there was his mildly surprised 'Hm. Wasn't expecting that' look. Right now, he was sporting the semi-alert face, and Orihime knew it was associated with a very limited amount of patience, which she in no way wished to tax.

"Please excuse my mistake," she said politely with another bow. "I apologize for disturbing your evening."

"Hn." His chin tilted down so it was no longer aimed so pointedly at the sky, which Orihime took as an indication that he wasn't looking down on her quite as much. "You will come with me to await Rukia." It was not a question or a suggestion.

He held a long, pale hand out to her, in which she assumed she was to place her own hand, which she did, after a brief hesitation. The moment she had, the world blurred around her, and they were moving.

They would come to a stop on the occasional roof between one flash-step and the next, but it all went so fast, without the comfort of oblivion. In spite of the slight sensation of queasiness it made her feel, Orihime was quite accustomed to travelling under the force of another person's shunpou, and quite enjoyed it- the landscape flying by, the wind in her face.

She gripped his hand tighter and took comfort in its strength, in the solid feel of the bones beneath the skin. They paused on another roof, then, with a pause that was a tiny bit jarring, not flawlessly smooth like the others. Byakuya shot a questioning glance down at their interlaced fingers. She just smiled at him.

"This is fun. I'm almost sorry we're almost there."

Somewhere along the way, Byakuya had acquired a fourth expression, because he was giving her a face with slightly frowning brows but the barest hint of smirking lips- like he was wondering silently about her sanity and finding it not only lacking, but amusing. She decided to call it "Face D", and hoped she'd see it more often, because it made him a lot less daunting and more approachable.

Then they shot into motion again, even faster than before, so quick it almost stole the breath from her lungs. They had begun taking steeper trajectories up and dives down, and though the Kuchiki estate was in the south of Seireitei, she could have sworn that they were heading northeast, because that was definitely Eighth Division they were flying overhead right then- even in the dark, Kyouraku-taichou's pink haori on one of the rooftops was like a beacon.

She realized, in an instant, that Byakuya was taking her for the shinigami's version of a joy ride, and joyous it was, too- exactly what she needed after her death. Throwing back her head, grinning into the wind, she gave herself up to the exilaration, to the wind and the night and the stars, to death and rebirth, and whatever fate might have in store for her from this point forward.

"Thank you," she whispered to him, though she had no idea if he could hear her or not. "Thank you, Byakuya-sama."

She felt their angle change into a swift descent and flawlessly gentle landing, and opened her eyes to see they were standing at the edge of a wide, covered veranda. With a blink, she looked around and saw they were in the familiar surroundings of the Kuchiki estate. In the middle of the absolutely massive compound, the pond rippled serenely before them, orange-gold koi of considerable size glinting in its depths. In the distance, Orihime could hear the rushing of the river that bisected the grounds.

A servant emerged from where he'd apparently been lurking in wait for a moment exactly such as this, and Byakuya murmured some instructions to him. The servant scurried away after an obsequious bow, and Byakuya pushed the shoji screens to open wide the entire exterior wall of a room. Inside was sparsely decorated, with a long low table around which six plump silk-covered seating cushions, zabutons, were placed. He entered and seated himself at the end of the table; with a gesture, he indicated that Orhime was to sit as well.

"Rukia went in search of you," he informed her. Orihime felt guilty for worrying Rukia. Was there censure in Kuchiki-taichou's voice? He sounded as flat and neutral as ever. "She will return soon." He watched her for a long, silent moment, his slate-gray eyes never leaving her face as a servant entered and arranged a tea service before them. "Why did you not contact her as arranged?"

Orihime opened her mouth, fully intending to spout something about forgetting how to perform the kidou to summon and use a hell butterfly, but he added, "I will have the truth, if you please."

Well. Feeling resigned and rather put-upon, Orihime sagged a little. Might as well tell him the truth; he already didn't like her much, so what did it matter? "I didn't want to remember my life in the first place."

"Then why did you? You had only to refuse to allow Rukia to attach your memories." He sipped from his tea cup, sounding as politely interested as would a matron at a society affair with a mere acquaintance which, Orihime supposed, was all that they were to each other. Mere acquaintances.

"I couldn't. I felt... obligated to remember. For my friends. I owed it to them, for all they've done for me, to remember them. It would hurt them too much, knowing I didn't remember them, knowing that I would be out there somewhere and they were strangers to me." And oh, how she still resented them for it, when rebirth and oblivion had awaited her.

"So, from a sense of duty." At her nod, his eyelids drifted closed.

Empathy: that was unexpected. Encouraged, Orihime forged on. "So, when I got here, and remembered everything, I wanted... I don't know, I wanted some time before I had to be myself again."

"I understand," he commented, and there was something in his voice that told her he knew exactly what she meant. She recalled that not only was he a captain, but the head of an extensive noble house, with all the myriad important responsibilities that entailed. She wondered if he ever got any opportunity to get away and pretend, as she had done for such precious few hours.

"I feel a lot better after that trip back here, so it all seems so pointless and petty, now," Orihime admitted. "I'm so much luckier than most people- I get to remember and continue to have my wonderful friends from when I was alive- who else can say that?"

Byakuya opened his mouth, ostensibly to reply.

"No one else, that's who!" she answered before he could speak. In her excitement, she was leaning forward onto the table, her prodigious bosom resting lightly on its surface. His gaze flicked down to it for the merest second before he schooled it up once more, an automatic reaction to two forces of nature.

In truth, he wasn't thinking about her boobs, or her body at all- he had just arrived at the realization that Inoue Orihime was a kindred spirit. Byakuya was a very intelligent man and could see right through her perky act- in spite of her animation and declaration of fortunate circumstances- that she was still quite traumatized by her death, by the end of all her plans, and by having to retain her memories for the sake of her friends instead of embracing the sweet oblivion she craved. That cheerful façade was just that, a shell masking her true emotions.

Byakuya knew precisely what that was like. He'd spent the past 125 years doing the same exact thing, only his shell was a deadpan, stoic exterior concealing the fiery conflagration that raged inside him. He didn't think he'd ever conquer the passion of his true nature; 125 years, and there were still days when he felt like unleashing all that fire, and let the pieces fall where they may.

Then he'd recall his familial duty, and all the promises he'd made. There was one thing that bound him more strongly than the frustration and wildness in his soul, and that was his sense of responsibility. As long as he had a duty to head the Kuchiki clan, and be a Gotei captain, and generally be an emotionless automaton as was required by the noble ideal of protocol and dignity, he would rein in his impulses and present a bland face to the world.

Someone had to; it wasn't as if his sister would, nor would he want her to. He rather liked her exuberance (not that he'd ever reveal that to her). He also liked Orihime's general mien of kind and chipper friendliness, for that matter. It was like a middle finger upthrust in the face of all the clan elders who continued, at his age, to warn him of the dangers of random and untamed emoting.

As if in punctuation of this concept, in the distance came a thud, and the patter of rapid footsteps on tatami.

"Rukia is home," he murmured into his teacup just as the fusuma door was tossed to the side and Rukia appeared, wild-eyed. Seeing her brother in residence, she immediate schooled her features and stance into something more becoming her station, and entered the room with a layer of calm spread over her agitation.

"Nii-sama," she said respectfully, before dropping to her knees before Orihime and yanking the other girl into her arms. "I was so worried." Grasping her arms, she thrust Orihime away to run a critical eye over her before hugging her fiercely once more. "But you're safe? You're safe."

"I'm fine," Orihime gasped, laughing and hugging her back. "I'm sorry for the delay. I hope you weren't too worried."

"I was worried, and you'll have to make it up to me," countered Rukia with a grin.

"Byakuya-sama was kind enough to fetch me when I sent the butterfly," Orihime explained with a bow toward him. He nodded back and continued to drink his tea while watching them. Rukia added her own bow of thanks. He nodded serenly in return.

"Nii-sama, I request that Inoue-san be permitted to stay here as our guest-" Rukia began.

"I have already had a room prepared," he said, looking bored. This time of night, where else would she go? Besides, though he suspected she was somewhat unhinged, she was not an unpleasant person. In the decade of his acquaintance with her, she'd proven herself a steadfast and kind friend to Rukia, as well as a trustworthy person in general. He had no objections to her residing in his home for a duration.

Rukia appeared thunderstruck; then her expression melted into one of grateful adoration. "Of course Nii-sama would think of that. Thank you!"

Orihime bowed in gratitude. "Yes, thank you very much, Byakuya-sama!"

A servant slip open the fusuma door. "The bath you ordered for your guest is ready, Kuchiki-sama."

Orihime stood. "Oh, I can't wait," she said in heartfelt tones. "Thank you again." She stood quickly, and fairly ran from the room.

The servant led her down the hall, around a corner, and down another hall. "The bathroom is here," she gestured to one door, then to another across the hall. "And your room is here. Rukia-sama's is just besides yours. If you need anything, please call."

The bathroom was a spacious, wood-panelled affair with large furo tub in the center, steam rising in lazy spirals from the hot water's surface. A clean yukata was folded neatly on a nearby bench beside a pile of towels. Orihime stripped faster than she ever had in her life, scrubbing and rinsing until she was pink, and then sank down into the water with a sigh. She was asleep almost immediately, only waking when Rukia pounded on the door.

"Did you die in there? Come out, already!"

Orihime departed from the wonderful furo with great reluctance, promising to return to it soon, and pulled the yukata over her refreshed body before bundling her dirty clothes up and leaving the bathroom. Rukia pulled her into her new bedroom, which instead of being empty as Orihime had expected, contained a lot of bags and sacks and one or two boxes.

"Tatsuki-san and Ichigo insisted on sending along all your clothes and, well, anything remotely portable." She scowled as she plopped down on the tatami floor. "I had a time carrying it all here, let me tell you. Those idiots. I had to make Renji help me."

"Thank you so much, Rukia-chan," Orihime began, kneeling beside her. Her vision blurred as the tears started. "For everything. It's far too much, what I've asked you to do-"

Rukia hugged her. "You didn't ask me to do any of it. And it's my pleasure. We're friends, Orihime-chan. You'd do the same for me." She nodded toward where Orihime's sword had been leant against the wall. "A zanpakuto already, eh? No real surprise there."

"It makes it feel more real, having one for myself at last," Orihime admitted. "I'm really dead. I'm in Soul Society not on a visit, but forever, because I'm dead." She scrubbed at her eyes, trying to eradicate the tears. "How is everyone?"

Rukia picked at a loose thread in her hakama. "I won't lie to you; they're miserable. Ichigo somehow thinks it's his fault, the moron. I swear, all the fighting has given him brain damage." She scowled at the mere idea of the young man. "They're human, they've been told all their lives that death is the end, no matter what they know of Soul Society now. When they finally come to believe that you're not gone forever, and they'll see you again, they'll feel better."

She hopped easily to her feet. "You should get to sleep, now. It's been a long and difficult day for you, I'm sure you're tired. Let me put out your bed for you."

Ignoring Orihime's protests, Rukia went to the cupboard that stretched across one wall and extracted the futon stored within, tossing it to the ground so it unfolded into a sleeping mattress. Sheets and blankets, with one or two expert flicks, were put into place; a pillow was plumped and deposited at one end. It was done.

"If you're up early enough, you can have breakfast with Nii-sama and I, but don't worry if you're not. Get up when you feel like it, and ask for breakfast when you like."

A brisk kiss on the cheek, and Rukia was gone. Orihime dug into the bags around her until she found a pair of pajamas, then pulled them on. For the first time, she experienced the oddness of feeling real world matter against her spirit matter body; the cloth of the pajamas felt strange, almost like they were vibrating against her skin. Or maybe it was her skin vibrating against the stillness of the cloth. Whatever it was, it was not entirely comfortable, and Orihime removed them, putting the yukata back on before climbing into bed.

Despite being a futon on the floor, it was divinely comfortable- no less for any guest of the Kuchikis, of course. The sheets were cotton, but as smooth and supple as the finest silk; the quilt was perfection itself, neither too light nor too heavy. Orihime made herself two promises: one, to find out how exactly the quilt was made with such precise balance, and two, to obtain one for Uryuu. Now, there was a man who could appreciate the finer points of quilting.

It was while in the midst of these warm thoughts of Uryuu's general excellence that Orihime, exhausted, passed out.