Under normal circumstances, Ichigo would have either scoffed at such a suggestion or brushed the matter aside before proceeding to more pertinent matters. But there was something, Ichigo couldn't be sure if it was Orihime's conviction or tone of voice or facial expression, in what she said that stirred up a vague feeling or memory. He vaguely felt as if Orihime's words had shed light on something that he had buried deep within himself…and he didn't like that feeling at all.

Trying to keep the slight feeling of panic at bay, Ichigo replied as calmly as possible, "I'm a detective, Ms. Orihime. I deal in facts and theories like you said, so those are what I will use to get to the bottom of this and catch this pair of cold-blooded, heartless murderers."

Rising to his feet, Ichigo looked down at Orihime as he asked, "Where is your restroom?"

Orihime pointed and said, "Just down the hall and to the right."

Nodding his thanks, Ichigo left the room. He could feel the others looking after him, so he did his best not to look as unsettled as he felt. Once he was in the privacy of the bathroom with the door locked, Ichigo allowed his body to sag against the sink.

He felt sick. What was the matter with him? Was his lack of sleep catching up with him? Was he coming down with something? Unlikely, since all the symptoms had only started setting in after Orihime's question, but why should that disturb him so? They were only words. Nothing more.

She wanted him to believe that imaginary ghosts had committed all these murders. That two monsters were on the rampage all across the globe killing off anyone who happened to catch their fancy. Where was the sense in such a claim? Ghosts and monsters and boogey men didn't exist.

But then what could account for Orihime's absolute conviction that she had seen the murderer vanish right before her very eyes? Ichigo had interrogated cheats, murderers, rapists and numerous other forms of scum in the short time he had been an officer and detective. He had always had a knack for reading people ever since he was a boy and his specialized training had greatly improved his innate skills. When Orihime had made that statement, she had been telling the truth…or what she really and sincerely believed to be the truth.

Looking up at his reflection, Ichigo scowled at himself as he said, "Fine time for you to be falling apart. Too many people have died already, so pull yourself together."

Reaching over to turn on the cold water, Ichigo's eyes inexplicably focused on his own hands. As he reached down to cup some of the water between his palms, for some reason he compared his own large and calloused hands to Orihime's. Why he had even noticed her hands was beyond him, but Orihime's hands were small and white and…

Again, a wave of nausea swept through him and Ichigo gripped the sides of the sink as his knees threatened to buckle underneath him. This time, however, instead of a vague stirring in his memory, Ichigo was struck with an image. An image of small, white hands gripping a strange looking black knife. Only they weren't a natural white like Orihime's…they were a ghostly pale color…with black fingernails.

Then, as suddenly as it had struck, the image and sick feeling were gone. Breathing deeply for a few moments, Ichigo waited until his senses cleared before fulfilling his original goal of splashing water on his face. The cold water helped to clear away the last remnants of 'spider webs' from his brain. He was firmly grounded in reality again.

Straightening up, Ichigo looked in the mirror one final time. He scowled fiercely at himself before turning and opening the door. He would remain in control of himself just like always.

Returning to the living room, Ichigo heard Uryu saying something about poetry while Orihime seemed to be fully absorbed by what her friend was telling her. However, Orihime proved to be more attentive than Ichigo realized for right after he passed through the doorway, she turned to look at him and smile before returning her attention to Uryu. In the brief time, however, that simple pleasant gesture sent a chill down Ichigo's spine as his mind's eye once again brought forth an image he was not prepared to process. A smile so like Orihime's on the surface and yet so drastically different.

Seeing the his partner's eyes seemingly glaze over and the color drain from his cheeks, Renji surged to his feet and strode over to firmly grasp Ichigo's shoulders as he asked insistently, "Ichigo? Ichigo? Are you all right? What's the matter?"

As soon as Renji's hands touched him, Ichigo's muscles flinched and his focus was brought back to the present. Looking at Renji, Ichigo nodded as he said, "I'm fine. Just felt a little light-headed and tired for a second there."

"Are you sure you're all right?" asked Orihime.

Ichigo didn't answer right away, but looked into Orihime's eyes for a few moments. He looked at her intently and she returned the look just as steadily.

Finally, Ichigo said, "Yeah, I'm fine," then he turned back to Renji and said, "I'm going to step outside for a second to get some air and make a call."

Quirking a critical eyebrow at Ichigo, Renji nevertheless acquiesced saying, "Do what you need to do. Just know that I intend to bring Ms. Orihime back with us to the station."

"Whatever for?" asked Ichigo in some surprise.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Renji said firmly, "If for no other reason than to make sure she's not taken out by this pair of lunatics. We could also use her sketches and description of her brother's killer to see if her 'ghost' can be identified by any of the others who were convicted after claiming their significant other was murdered by one."

"Her sketches?" inquired Ichigo before he looked to Orihime for an explanation.

Orihime walked over to collect a sketch pad and some drawing materials from the table and handed the pad to Ichigo as she said, "I work as a children's author and illustrator."

"I see," said Ichigo as he took the pad and opened it.

While art wasn't really something he took much interest in, Ichigo could definitely tell that Orihime was a talented artist. As he flipped through the pages he saw plenty of what might have been termed 'rough sketches' but it was quite clear to him whether a character was male or female and what emotion they were supposed to be feeling. Each line was carefully and lovingly drawn with no wasted effort and very few instances of an eraser needing to be used.

Reaching out, Orihime flipped to the page she wanted Ichigo to see as she said, "While we were waiting, I drew a quick sketch of what I remembered."

As he looked at the paper, Ichigo once again felt that nauseating feeling begin to rise like bile in his throat. If Orihime's testimony was to be believed and this face in front of him actually belonged to someone or something real, then he would be the first to admit that he and they could be twins. The only way Ichigo could be absolutely positive that Orihime hadn't just drawn a picture of himself was because of the facial expression. Everyone told him that he should smile more, but if he tried and it turned out to look this demented, then Ichigo was quite relieved that he had never practiced smiling more. The face looking back at him might be identical in looks, but it was quite obvious to Ichigo that this guy was totally off his rocker.

Raising his eyes again to look at Orihime, Ichigo was again struck by an image of a smiling face. One that was identical to Orihime's and yet with ghostly white skin, silver white hair…and a crazed expression like the one looking up at him from the sketch pad.

The images seemed to be memories, but Ichigo had no idea what they were from. What was going on?

Author's Note (April 14, 2018):

Man, I thought these were longer than this...