AN: Something I would have always wanted to happen to Orihime. Keep sharp, everyone!
Also, apologize for the delay, I've been having a lousy week and have been getting terrible migraines. My eyes feel like they are just about to pop out of their sockets. I had problems opening them, and when I do, and try to even manage to look at the tv, monitor, phone or mirror, I feel like throwing up. This chapter is the original draft I had from the start, and I apologize if there are some editing problems...I had a quick run through and felt that it was still acceptable, so I just decided to publish it and not delay any longer. Now, excuse me while I sign off a bit... even writing this one paragraph is making me feel terribly sick.
Disclaimer: Bleach and its characters are owned by Tite Kubo. All other entities and intellectual properties mentioned herein are proprietary to their respective owners - Weihenstephaner by Bavarian State Brewery, Nine Series by Bavarian Motor Works. I admit they are not mine. Otherwise, the idea of this story belongs to the author - me.
Shades Of Gray
Chapter 09: The Argentinian Specials
"Gluttony is not a secret vice."
- Orson Welles, American Writer
"Urahara san!"
"Orihime, long time no see!"
Orihime waved at the ubiquitous blonde owner of the bar-slash-resto behind the counter, and approached the bar. Benihime Bar had a wide stock of alcoholic beverages to rival high class hotels in the area, if not more. It specialized in hard drinks and beers, although one wouldn't be surprised if the blond owner did stock finer tastes of upscale champagnes, ports and wines, for special occasions. Orihime wasn't a drinker, but then Benihime Bar wasn't only known for their extensive hard drinks collection. They serve the most mean spirited steaks, a good price for their value, with a selection of beef cuts almost challenging the same aforementioned alcohol stockpile. That was what she went for, during times when she was so hungry that she could eat a horse.
And of course, needless to say, they have the best cocktail bar in town.
"What are you here for today? Is Ichigo and the gang coming by?"
"Oh no, I'm meeting a friend here. Not sure if you've seen him?" She inched her hands to Grimmjow's height. "About this tall and sports bright blue hair?"
Urahara tapped his nose. "Is that a date?"
"Haha, Urahara-san, no, he's just a friend," she giggled. The last thing she would imagine is having Grimmjow as a boyfriend. It was something that could rival Yamazaki-san's earlier comment this morning with Ulquiorra, and now that she was in better spirits, she thought both were quite funny.
"Well, I haven't seen anyone by that description yet. Do you want to grab a table? I can get you the table at the corner so you can have some privacy."
It was a good place for hanging out, and when needed, they have a slightly quieter corner in the bar for a more private experience. And then there was the fine dining section. The whole place was divided in the middle by the area of the bar counter, separating the bar section from the fine dining section on the other side by a wall. Whereas Orihime was now standing on the bar side, with pool tables and darts of a typical English pub style atmosphere, she knew that the adjoining room across had impeccably laid out tables in dark forest green and finel cutlery and crystal goblets, washed in a low, ambient dim light and carpeted floors. Benihime was a strange twist to the standard definition of the branding of restauranteur enterprise, but it worked. There was Benihime the bar, and Benihime the restaurant. Both were well known for rowdy good fun, as well as elegant, exquisite dining.
She blushed. "No Urahara-san, really. He's just a friend."
Urahara gave a knowing glance. "If you say so…"
"If you don't mind, I'll have a wait for him here at the bar, we can catch up while I'm waiting."
"Feel free. The clients are sparse during weekdays, and I have nothing better to do," he sighed in excess in mock forlorn as she turned to look at the full swing of people across the floor in contradiction, "I am in dire need of a beautiful girl to fan my inspiration nowdays."
She giggled. She liked Urahara, he was easy to talk to without being pretentious. It was almost self condescending in a way, inviting and quite endearing.
"You better make sure Yoruichi doesn't hear that, she might get those elk antlers and charge right at you."
"That old hag? Save me from the wart-infested witch woman, Orihime," he placed out a matching green fan and fanned surreptitiously under its covers, a faint wrinkle in his eyes fanning his humor.
The back kitchen door slammed and a hand came out from nowhere, pinching the blonde entrepreneur across his ears in aggressive reprimand. "Who are you calling a wart-infested witch?"
Orihime chuckled. Yoruichi, Urahara's partner, was anything but ugly. She was dark skinned in an exotic way, a lithe figure and beautiful slanted feline eyes … currently in a kitchen apron and a red cross skulls bandanna tied around her head, while long, slim fingers attacking the said bar owner's ear.
"Owwoww… Yoruichi my love, I was just jesting with Orihime. Please … please let goooOOoo…."
Yoruichi slapped the rag she was holding on to the counter table while still keeping her fingers tightly on the surreptitious blonde, making sure he was still squirming against the counter surface. "Orihime, what a nice surprise. We haven't seen you in months. Is Ichigo coming over?"
It was quite embarrassing to have two people ask her about Ichigo. It was not as if she was his caretaker… she was likely the last person to be so, but unfortunately, she was mostly with the gang, and Ichigo by extension - Ichigo being the leader that brought about their tightly wound up group. It didn't help that everyone except the person involved were privy of her infantile crush with her orange haired counterpart during those days, but it was a time almost long past…. Almost, anyway. She'd gotten over her little crush, but old habits die hard, and she still found him admirable and adorable at the same time.
"Uh-no.. I was telling Urahara-san here that –"
He was still fumbling underneath the counter. "She's meeting someone else!"
"Oh, really now," she interjected, finally letting go of her partner, "Anyone we know? Is it Uryuu?"
"Ishida-kun? Why would he be meeting with me here?" she asked, confused.
"It's because he's probably been pining-"
Slam. Yoruichi's fist hit Urahara squarely on his head, his strange green striped top hat crumpling flat, forever silencing the words that was about to be uttered from his lips.
"Ignore him, Orihime," she glanced at Urahara, giving him a warning look unnoticed by Orihime, "I just thought maybe Uryuu was meeting up with you, he was here a couple of times for the past two weeks, I thought maybe finally he would get a friend to talk to instead of just sitting there by himself."
"Oh, I didn't know that. I was busy the past couple of weeks. Maybe I should give him a call…"
Yoruichi shrugged. "He probably needs a friend to talk to, anyway. Tried joining him a few times, but he declined graciously." She laughed. "The boy is too much a gentleman around girls. But that aside, he looked a bit withdrawn. Is anything the matter these days?"
"Not that I know of, Yoruichi-san. He was doing fine in school the last time I was there, and we went out all together a few times for the past few weeks. He didn't seem any different to me."
"Well, maybe it's not such a big problem… or maybe it is, if you're hiding it well amongst friends," she remarked offhandedly, "But maybe he needs a friend to talk to… it's always no good sitting alone by oneself all the time."
Uryuu... alone? Come to think of it, she hasn't spent any time with the gang since she started work. Ishida liked his privacy, but she didn't think he would be the type of person to drink by himself. That wasn't normal. Her brows furrowed with a bit of worry, ... and then she suddenly caught herself with a stray thought.
It was because Yoruichi's words also brought up a different, but parallel image, entirely. She wondered why she worried for Uryuu, while it seemed perfectly normal to not have the same thoughts with Ulquiorra. He was alone all the time. He probably sat by himself all the time. Her eyes again furrowed when she remembered her office workspace. Cold. Cold eyes. She shivered, but regained her stature.
"Probably. I'll drop him a call one of these days, but it's just that, I've been very busy with work-"
Urahara's face popped up on top of Yoruichi's shoulders, looking at her curiously."Ohh? You're a working woman now, Orihime? I thought you were still studying."
"Stop badgering the woman, Kisuke," Yoruichi pushed his face away.
"It's alright, Yoruichi-san. I'm actually meeting one of my colleagues here, it's sort of a secret meeting … to make battle plans," she smiled and winked.
"OoooOoooH… secret meetings, I like those."
Yoruichi ignored the man beside her and concentrated instead on the orange haired girl in front of her. This was interesting development. "That sounds entirely unlike you, Orihime. You're more likely to jump off a cliff than take on an adversary. Something in the office I take it?"
"There's just a colleague that makes my work… challenging," she flushed, embarrassed to admit she was in a bit of a fix.
"Where do you work anyway?" Urahara asked.
"Over at Arrancar, do you know the place?"
Urahara and Yoruichi both looked at each other before glancing back to the girl. "Oh, we know a few of them here and there. Their office is quite near this place, so it's not odd to see some of them pass by here once in a while. Is the person you're in battle with in question anyone we know?" Yoruichi asked.
Suddenly alarmed at the insinuation, she panicked, wondering if Ulquiorra might show his face up here before she met Grimmjow. Then she remembered he didn't like alcohol…. or crowds. Benihime was as crowded as one can get, and there was no way her green eyed jailer would even fanthom passing by. She calmed down.
"No, I doubt it. He doesn't like crowds a lot, so it's not his type of place," she supplied.
"Ahh… a lost potential customer then," Urahara interjected, sporting a feigned forlorn expression.
After a second or so, Yoruichi spoke from her thoughts. "Oh, a he, is it?"
"Yes, he's a bit uptight," Orihime answered, not catching on Yoruichi's insinuation, "but I think he's a nice guy overall… I just need to get around his strange tendencies... Nothing violent!" she quickly defended.
"Sounds like you have a handful … you never had any problems taking care of people, violent or otherwise. Must be an interesting character, this colleague of yours," Yoruichi supplied.
"I think underneath it all, I think he's special. But working with him is such…. um... a bit difficult!" she tried to stop rolling her eyes, but failed.
"Oh, what an interesting person. Difficult? That's almost like an expletive for you, Orihime-san!" Kisuke interjected.
She blushed. She didn't like saying bad things about other people, but Ulquiorra takes the cake after five days of torment at his office. She was stripped of her rights, and it was causing her to drive herself up into the wall. A savior aside, he was like a Monet – nice to look at afar, but a mess when seen up close. But in hindsight, there was a design to all that madness. At least she'd like to believe so. Probably a masterpiece, but it was too early to tell. All she could tell is that he was smart … impossibly smart. Which is why she needed another head to compensate for her own.
She looked at her watch. Grimmjow was supposed to arrive at seven, and it was already half past.
"Is the person meeting up with you, late?" Yoruichi asked.
"He's already half an hour late." She looked about worriedly. "The office is just across the block, he should be here by now."
"Oh, another he? Not much of a gentleman to keep the lady waiting."
Orihime giggled. "There's not much 'shes' over there at the company. But this one is nice, but a little clumsy."
"I don't think Arrancar employees are ever clumsy, Orihime-san," Urahara suddenly said in all seriousness.
"Oh but they are. Well, a small handful of them. This one's one of the exceptions, I think. He just lives by the minute, that's all. Not much into long term plans," she replied back cheerily. "They have quite a colorful crew over there."
Urahara started flapping his fan in front of his face. "You seem to be having an interesting time there, Orihime-san. Colorful… is an interesting word to use."
The kitchen doors suddenly opened to find a shy, pigtailed girl with kind eyes walk across towards them hurriedly from behind the counter. Despite her dimunitive figure, she walked with a kind of quiet, sing-song grace unlike her teenage years. She was walking straight to Yoruichi in a frantic manner.
"What is it, Ururu?"
"He's asking for Korean yukhoe using Tajima-ushi, Yoruichi-san… I can't do them fast enough before the beef cools in my hands. You know he gets impatient ..."
Yoruichi rolled her eyes.
"Excuse me, Orihime, there's a demanding customer we acquired recently on the other side waiting to be served," she smiled. "Hope you get your battle settled soon," she winked and walked off back to the kitchen, with nervous-faced Ururu on her heels.
"Demanding customer?" she asked Urahara.
"Popped up three weeks ago. I haven't met the person per se, but I hear he gave Yoruichi a bit of a hard time at first. Testy one. Came down looking for fois gras the first time, a specifically grilled O-toro the week after that. Seems he has specific tastes," he laughed.
"She has to put up with it every day?"
"Oh, no, not daily. So far with the count, he always comes by on Fridays at half past seven."
She probably wondered how she would fare if she had met a demanding customer over at Yamazaki's. So far everything was good, and she didn't have to put up with nuisances. Besides, there was no complaining the baked breads there, which in her opinion, was perfect. A lot of people complimented on his breads, saying that they were as good, sometimes even better than the original French versions – she wouldn't know, she's never been out of the country to compare. She just knew they were good with her adzuki bean paste.
"Must be hard to put up with a customer."
"Well that's how things are. Enough with work. Haven't seen the gang for a while, they're all on summer break, aren't they?"
"Yes we met up two weeks ago for some indoor climbing, but we haven't met up afterwards."
"Well, you're bound to see Uryuu sooner or later. Like Yoruichi said, he pops in once in a while, not sure what he is up about."
"Actually, you know what,..." Orihime thought with a kind of determination, "since I'm here, I might as well drop Ishida-kun a call. He might want to have a drink… and he gets to meet my colleague too. He was kind of worried about them at the start," she supplied. "Hold on."
She grabbed her phone and dialed Ishida's number.
It rang three times before she heard his unexpected gruff voice at the end of the line. "Ishida speaking."
"Uhh.. Sorry Ishida-kun, this is Orihime. Did.. did I bother you?"
"Oh, Orihime… no, no. I was just a bit preoccupied when you called, that's all," the quickly backtracking voice on the other line said.
"I see…" she hesistated.
"Don't worry about it Orihime, its nothing. Why'd you call?"
So curt. "I was wondering, it's a Friday night, and I'm here at Benihime's. Do you want to come over and have a drink?"
"Sure... I need a break anyway. I have to finish up something over here first, I'll be there in an hour, that alright?"
She thought an hour would be just right after she finished with Grimmjow… If he really bothered to come.
"No problem, take your time."
"Alright. Tell Kurosaki to hold the drinks before he finishes them without me. I'll see you in a bit."
"Wait Ishida-kun –"
Click.
She stared at her phone. She forgot to tell him Ichigo wasn't here.
"You look dumbfounded, Orihime… did he just hang up on you?" Urahara asked, dispensing an order of beer for a table on the far side of the bar.
"Err… sort of. He thought everyone was here and asked me to tell Ichigo to hold the drinks until he arrives."
"Wouldn't it be funny if he finds out there's no one here except you and your friend!" he chuckled with himself.
"He seemed preoccupied with something…"
"But he's coming, right?" Urahara pointed out.
"Yes…."
"Well, we'll just wait it out then. Is your colleague-friend really coming?"
"I don't-"
"Princess!" she heard Grimmjow, and turned around to the direction of the voice...
... and was met with him sporting a impressive amount of gauze wrapped about his forehead, his spikey blue hair peeking out from underneath all the medical cloth. He was also sporting a growing bruise in his lower jaw. Despite the patch up, he was still grinning like nothing's wrong.
"Oh my goodness, Grimmjow, what happened?" She jumped up her seat and ran up the short way to him. When she got to him, she asked him again. "What happened?"
"Forget it. That fool Nnoitra brought up something stupid during the weekly meeting and we had a rough punch up." He walked over to where she was sitting, with a curiously interested Urahara eyeing Orihime's friend.
"Weihenstephaner ... Vitus?" Urahara asked.
"Thanks, that's perfect. I'm surprised you have it here."
"We like to make sure to stock most good brands. It helps to know people in customs, too," Urahara interjected, and flapped his fan again surreptitiously. He passed a frothy mug to Grimmjow.
"Right." Grimmjow turned to Orihime. "Sorry about being late, princess. I had to patch my head up before it bled out, and had to take a shower and a change of clothes. My shirt was messed up with all the blood. Ruining my favorite shirt. Tch. Such an asshole." He took a huge swag of his Bavarian beer.
"Should you be drinking alcohol at a time like this?" She asked worriedly, "Alcohol are blood thinners... Your wound might open. How bad is it?" She tried to reach up his forehead, but Grimmjow merely slapped her hand aside.
"Don't worry, I've been at this before." He leaned towards the counter. "Nothing helps forget pain than a good bottle of alcohol to disinfect the head wound," he chuckled. "That shit Ulquiorra didn't even pull his punches –"
"Ulquiorra-san? I thought it was Nnoitra-kun?"
"Oh Nnoitra and I were in a punch up, we were arguing about the design for one of the imaging systems and we didn't meet eye to eye on it. It was just the usual banter – well, I was creaming him anyway – but Ulquiorra just got pissed at us, saying we were taking too long, and ended it." He took another swag and looked at his new shirt. "Goddammit. He didn't have to get a blood all over my shirt. I had that custom made back home," he growled, tilting his mug again for another swallow.
"You shouldn't be drinking, Grimmjow –" she frantically tried to stop him from drinking, but Grimmjow merely pushed her hand away.
"I could have that fixed for you in no time, if you like, Grimmjow-san" Urahara offered surreptitiously, "We specialize in all sorts of things."
The blue haired man glanced at Urahara. "Sure why not. Otherwise it'll just go to trash bin. I didn't catch your name?"
"Oh yes, Grimmjow-kun," Orihime offered, "This is Urahara Kisuke. Urahara-san, this is my colleague Grimmjow Jagerjaquez."
"Nice meeting ya." Grimmjow put two fingers to his forehead in casual salute, eyeing the blond barman behind the counter, asking for another mug. Orihime eyed it in defeat. He was really drinking too much.
"Didn't know you frequent this place, Princess. I thought you didn't drink much?"
"No, I don't, not too much. Now stop drinking, you've probably just had a concussion –"
"Oh Orihime-san likes our steaks." Urahara was winking at her. What was that for? "Why don't you get her one of our specials as a form of apology for letting her wait?"
"What? No Urahara-san, not the specials!" she answered in horror.
"What's so special about the specials?" Grimmjow asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"It's a 1.2 kilogram prime rib, dry aged, grass fed Argentinian beef. Extra marbled. Highly recommended."
Grimmjow laughed. "She can't finish a fucking kilogram of beef! Curves like hers? She'd be caught stealing than eating something like that!"
Orihime blushed at her colleagues' comment. Although she knew she was well endowed, she never was fronted directly with the fact. No one said Grimmjow was the penultimate model of tact. And she was catching on with what Urahara was planning. Not that she liked it, but its better than someone with a bleeding wound in a bar.
"You would be surprised, Jajagerquez-san."
"You've got to be kidding me. You'll need to have ultra-high metabolism to even get rid of the after effects of that much meat." He looked over at Orihime, chuckling. "Can you actually finish one like the way this blonde guy says?"
She went even redder.
"You're joking!"
"She can even finish it in under twenty minutes," Urahara laughed. "Almost like our unofficial mascot-muse, she is."
"Oh my goodness, this I got to see."
"No… Urahara-san… It's embarrassing!" She uttered.
"Did you have your dinner yet, Orihime?" Urahara asked, ignoring her previous comment.
She looked about looking for someone to save her from possible embarrassment. Unfortunately, Ichigo was not around… he was usually the one who stops everyone from egging her on. Not that she didn't like the food, but the attention was quite embarrassing. She moved her head from side to side in the negative.
"Perfect. Would be a good way to have a good Friday night, don't you think?" Urahara said. "If I may suggest, how about you race Inoue-san here to the finish line?"
She turned even redder, if that was possible.
Grimmjow laughed. "Alright, princess. I'll get you one of those specials, race you to the finish line together, how about that?"
She nodded timidly. If he stops drinking then why not. "Okay," she assented.
"Oh my, now we've got a competition going. This is even better." Urahara added in glee. He banged his first on the bar counter, and hollered across to the kitchen. "Jinta! Get two of the steak specials fired up in the grill."
A red head boy peeked out from the kitchen doors. "How do you want those done?"
Urahara looked back at the two Arrancar colleagues for their orders.
"Mostly rare, bordering on medium rare," Grimmjow stauntered.
"Just the way she likes it, right Orihime-san?" She nodded, wondering what egged her into this situation, preparing herself from the coming onslaught of cheers.
"You heard them Jinta. Go fire up the grill!"
Urahara poised his hands to his lips in announcement. "Everyone, we're having a steak special competition today, two entrants! Any other takers?"
Having caught everyone's attention, chatters were just about heard every corner of the bar. It was causing quite a ruckus, and in effect, also causing Yoruichi's head to pop out of the kitchens a few moments later.
"What is going on here? You're making too much noise, Kisuke, I can hear you all the way from the other side," she hissed.
"Orihime and her friend are about to race themselves with the Argentinian Specials."
"Oh-hoho. That's interesting. Are you sure she's up to it?"
"She said yes."
"And who's her challenger?"
"The blue haired guy with the bandages over his head. Its not really a challenger, he's just helping her out. He didn't believe it when I told him she could finish it. He's footing the bill."
"Oh, how nice. But... do you think you can tone it down though? My customers on the other side can hear you all the way from there."
"But love, this is a Friday night. It's good fun."
"Nevertheless, it wouldn't do," Yoruichi came back firmly.
"How many do you have over there, anyway?"
"Three, counting Shunsui and Ukitake."
"Posh, call them over, Shunsui and Ukitake can join in."
"And the other one?" she asked inquiringly.
"Is he the testy one?" Urahara slid his fan in front of his face in amusement.
"Yes."
"Will he be finished in thirty minutes? Jinta's fired up the grills for rares."
A pause, then Yoruichi answered. "Possibly."
"We'll start after he leaves then. I'll keep the decibels down until then. Warn any other new customers they need to put up with the noise if they want to have dinner there."
"Kisuke…" she warned, not liking the idea of shutting down the fine dining area for her partner's whims.
"Aww, come on, please Shihoin Yoruichi? I haven't had this much fun for months."
She sighed. "Alright. Just tonight, okay?"
Urahara grinned.
"Of course."
Thirty minutes laters, two tables were set up face to face in the middle of the bar, and surrounded by curious and heckling onlookers.
Orihime sat in one of them, wondering how she got into this predicament. She was supposed to talk to Grimmjow on how to get around Ulquiorra, and ended up having to go about eating Agentinian Specials. Uryuu was probably just about to arrive soon, and would probably be find her eating the kilogram steak. At least he doesn't have to wait long, she thought. Twenty minutes, tops, is just about right. If she can finish it, then… maybe she wouldn't have to get Uryuu waiting for her.
At least she got Grimmjow to stop drinking beer. He was abstaining himself at the moment, to get enough space to fill in his stomach with steak in the next few minutes. Head wounds and alcohol do not mix, ever, contrary to what her blue haired colleague commented. He was sitting across her still grinning like a his head wasn't wrapped in bandages.
"Are you really sure you can finish it, princess?" He asked.
She sighed. "Yes."
"In twenty minutes?"
"I suppose I can do it faster if I hurry…"
"What's with that funny looking bottle over there? I don't see it in my set."
He was referring to the slew of sauces on each of their tables. All manner of sauces to complement the steak. Both of them had identical ones, except for one that was red tinged. It was the one she took out of her office bag.
"It's sweet adzuki paste. I had it in my bag."
"For what?" He asked quizzically.
"I like it on my steak. It gives a nice sweet aftertaste."
"No way, that's weird."
"Not as weird as having a punch out at a board meeting…" she argued.
"Hey, that's normal!"
"Or having alcohol after a serious head wound…"
"People do that!"
"Or asking a girl to eat Argentinian Specials for competition…" she added.
"Alright, alright. Put in whatever you like in your steak, I still think it's weird."
"…."
They both looked at one another, surrounded by people noisily making bets on the possible winner. Her colleague, that was now fast turning into a friend, spoke first, loudly to get on top of the growing noise.
"Did you bring your laptop with you?" he shouted.
"No... Should I have?" she asked.
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. I was going to install something on it so you can talk to us easier on the other floors. You know, for times when you can't get away from him. Net send is for wimps. I got something better I wrote out. You can circumvent Cuatro's spy detection system too."
"Maybe I can bring it next time, Grimmjow-kun. In the meantime, I need to get away from him.. I can't have him tagging along all the time."
"I could get you another access card from Yammy…"
"That would probably work," Orihime agreed.
"I'll need to hack into the surveillance system of the building though. He's probably looking at those too."
"He does?"
"He's shit ass obsessive compulsive, remember?"
"Is... is it a lot of work?" she inquired worriedly.
"Nah, just a few strings here and there, don't worry," he grinned. "Oh, here comes our Friday meal."
She looked at the wall clock. She tried to calculate the time needed to finish the competition. It said quarter past eight. She called Uryuu at a little half past seven, almost a quarter before eight. An hour before he arrives. That leaves her with a good fifteen to twenty minutes, give or take, to finish her steak, since Uryuu usually estimates ten to fifteen minutes earlier than his promised time. She breathed and uncapped her adzuki bean paste.
"All righty, everyone. We're going to start the first ever Argentinian Specials Competition. On one side, the lovely Orihime Inoue, our unofficial record holder, on the other side, Grimmjow Jajagerquez, upcoming challenger –"
"I'm a challenger?"
"ShhhhHHH" shhsshed everyone.
"- vying for the unofficial title of champion record holder." Urahara snickered. "May the best gentleman or lady win. And now, the star of the night, our Argentinian Specials!"
The red headed boy came out of the kitchens carrying what could me said to me a giant sized slab of prime rib, still steaming and cooked directly from the grills, and placed in front of both competitors.
"Holy crap," Grimmjow surprised at the steaming pile of meat in front of him, cocked his head towards Orihime, "This makes her look like Tinkerbell."
He took a deep breath, "I didn't think it was THIS huge."
Everyone laughed, including Orihime, giggling at her colleague. Suddenly amongst the crowd and roaring laughter, she thought she heard a deadpan voice saying, "… That's because you're an idiot, Sexta."
Orihime stopped and was surprised to hear someone refer to Grimmjow. There was only one she knew who had a deadpan voice, called Grimmjow an idiot, and occasionally referred him as Sexta. But she was also in Benihime the pub, and there was no way the man she suspected would be mingling amongst the crowd of drunken establishment. She looked about nervously, looking at the direction of what she thought was the voice, trying to distinguish any jet black hair in the crowd. All she found were two clean worn, long haired men hanging about beside Urahara holding crystal goblets filled with what was likely to be port.
She shook herself. Nothing to be afraid of. What if he was here, it's not like she was doing anything wrong. And steeled herself. Her first steak in a long time, she smiled inwardly. This is going to be fun.
"Ready ladies and gentlemen?"
She took her knife into her hands. Grimmjow was grinning like a crazy cat across her. She could smell the wonderful waft of prime beef in front of her.
"On your mark,"
She was determined to do this. Grimmjow he picked up his knife lazily. She thought of the adzuki paste melting nicely over hot, wonderous marbled beef.
"Get set,"
She looked at her blue haired friend and he gave her a wink. She smiled and winked back. "See you in the finish line, princess!" he said.
"GOOOoooOOOOoooo!" Everyone shouted in unison.
The first thing she did was dunk her knife into the homemade paste. Grimmjow, on the other hand, went straight for the meat like lightning, a panther half starved and in want of thirst in the blazing African-sun.
She carved out almost half the bottle and quickly spread the paste across the steak, seeing the succulent juices slowly dripping out of the well-rested meat. It was red, oh my beautiful red. The paste was slowly melting away into the whole heavenly dish in front of her.
"What is she doing? What is that? Some special sauce?" she heard the others holler about her. She smiled. Grimmjow was an eighth into his heavenly slab and looking like a ravaged, dangerous cat.
And then she took her fork, and started knifing cubes faster than anyone would have thought possible.
Cut. Cube. Fork. Chew.
She did this simultaneously while continuing to cut.
And another cube. Fork. Chew.
And another. Fork. Chew.
And another.
Cube. Fork. Chew.
Yes. She's got it down to a very nice rhythm.
Twelve minutes later, she was a thirds away from the finish line. She didn't realize she had already finished two-thirds until she saw Grimmjow panting for a rest. She stopped to look at her plate, and then his. He was only halfway through. She chuckled. Well, that should keep him from drinking down another mug of his Weihenstephaner. She giggled. He's barely even touched his mug.
She looked about, a couple of men hooting out Grimmjow for losing to a girl. She, on the other hand, had her own personal cheerleading team made up of odd patrons. Yoruichi was leading the way, though. In the background, Urahara was giving a blow by blow account of the competition.
She still had a third to go. Ishida face popped up in front of her, looking smug and giving her an encouraging smile.
She remembered somewhere along the way between half way and two thirds of the steak, she saw Uryuu's curious look peek through the crowd, and suddenly his eyes lit up with laughter when he saw what was going on. He gave her a thumbs up and joined the rest crowd. She was a bit worried of him not joining in after finding out the gang wasn't around, but he seemed alright with it. She thought that was quite nice.
She finished her plate in exactly fifteen minutes and twenty three seconds. Grimmjow was two thirds away from his, and eventually gave up.
"And our reigning champion, Inoue Orihime!" Hoots and whistles bounded the room. She smiled like she had just won a beauty pageant. Except beauty pageants don't give you that warm fulfilling feeling when you've just downed one of the more fantastic meals of your life. She stood up, smiled and curtsied elegantly towards the crowd.
She was still feeling high with thrill of the race, and all the culmination of one point two kilogram of sizzling marbled fat. So in effect, when the crowd broke up and she caught sight of Ishida, she jumped immediately towards him in unrepressed glee.
"Ishida-kun!" she exclaimed, hugging her friend, fully aware of herself smelling like well cooked, exquisitely marbled beef.
She didn't notice him jerk from surprise being hugged by her, she was too dizzy and tipsy to notice, but she did feel him recovering a moment afterwards. "Okay, okay hold on there, Inoue-san," he gave her a light hug back and pulled her away, holding on to both her shoulders at arms length. He looked at her squarely like a parent looking over their child. She brightly gave him a smile.
"When you asked me to come, I didn't expect that you were taking on a competition again with someone. Are you showing off?" he lightly laughed. It was warm, light-hearted laugh. Not the gruff voice that answered the phone earlier. Goodness, she felt good. Like flying in the air. Everything felt a bit swishy and hazy, for some strange reason. But she had a warm, comfortable feeling in the depths of her stomach. Contentment.
And then she giggled. She seemed to have lost control of her vocal cords. As well as her appendages. How strange.
"I think you have a bit of sauce on your face. Here, let me get it for you," he took a paper on the table beside him, and felt him gently wipe her nose, "There you go. Now how in the world did it get there? You don't usually eat like a slob with steak, if I remember correctly."
She continued to giggle. She was thoroughly tipped over, she knew, and couldn't seem to control herself. Her head was swimming.
"All right, you're drunk with fat, Inoue-san. Sit down. I think you might actually tip over. Here." He took a chair and managed to get her to sit down. She suddenly felt the urge to droop her eye lids and curl up.
"Inoue-san, no sleeping in the bar. Here you go, you can lean on the table if you like."
Uryuu was not quite impressed with the aftermath of the competition. He knew Orihime could finish the plate, but he was concerned about the aftereffects – which he is pretty much putting up with now. The last time this happened, she was non-responsive and curled herself up in the cushioned armchair here at Benihime. She slept like a stone, and they had to carry her back to her place and sheepishly explained to her brother Sora that she was not drunk… not with alcohol anyway. She merely… had a comforting dinner. That earned both him and Kurosaki some suspicious looks from her brother.
He looked at the man slumped across the table – her challenger so to speak. Practically bawling out, he smirked inwardly. No one challenges Orihime to a steak eating contest unless they were crazy, and seeing the blue haired man, strangely with bandages all over his head, he was probably one of them. He looked at Orihime now, smiling distantly like kingdom come.
"So I guess she's in heaven land, Ishida-san?" Urahara's head popped out to glance at the orange haired girl.
"You should be the best person to know what her condition is, Urahara-san…" He sighed. "Can you get her a glass of cold water? With a few slices of lemon. She's going to have to get those fat swimming around her head out."
"Alright. Hold on," the bar owner assented.
He sat beside Orihime to keep her awake. There wasn't Sora anymore to contend with, but he would prefer she kept her faculties in working order before heading off home. "So I guess you've had your fill now, Orihime-san? Have you paid the bill yet?"
Orihime looked at Uryuu and smiled distantly. "Free dinner. Grimmjow is paying," she pointed to the man groaning on the makeshift table, "wasn't a good idea for him, though. I just wanted him to stop drinking huge amounts of beer, and he egged me on for a performance."
She continued to smile and tried to make her face look serious, which failed miserably. It was quite endearing while she tried to contort her face in all seriousness, yet her eyes were in a faraway, heavenly look. But he took what she said all in stride, and let her continue.
"Wasn't good to be consuming large amounts of alcohol with that head injury of his, anyway," she tapped her forehead several times to make a point. "He just got them an two hours ago. Had to think of a way to stop him -"
"Alright, I get the picture, Orihime-san..."
" – it's all his fault. Ulquiorra's fault," she reiterated, suddenly pouting at the thought, "I wouldn't have to down that much steak if he didn't hit Grimmjow in the head with Nnoitra. But it was a good steak. Very nice… Heavenly." She sighed and slumped her head on his left shoulder.
Uryuu lightly picked her head up from his shoulder, and carefully set her leaning down on the table. He stepped back a bit and reviewed the aftermath, his head recalling her words just now. He was completely confused by Orihime's speech. Specifically, the names of several people involved that he was not aware of. All he understood was that some violent fight went on and three people were involved. His already thin lips became even thinner with consternation. And Orihime had to fix it somehow by downing a large amount of meat.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. "Here you go Ishida-san!" Urahara handed him a cold glass of water. The top was swimming with what was likely to be a good half chunk of sliced lemons. He crushed the lemons further with the spoon, and gave it a little swirl.
As he walked over to her to give Orihime her remedy, he bumped his feet into a man who was leaning on one of the table counters. "Sorry."
"Not a problem," the low, rigid response came. Uryuu glanced back to the man, because he sounded like he had a big problem, instead. The man was eyeing the two knocked down contestants. Probably a spectator watching the aftermath, he thought. There was always a few of them who hung around afterwards just to get a laugh out of the situation. He shrugged and came over to Orihime.
"Orihime, can you hold on to this for me?" He carefully nudged her head upright and handed her the glass, "Take a sip, it'll make you feel a bit better. I'll be back in a second, alright?"
"MmmmM," she nodded enthusiastically. She was still spaced out.
After making sure she was not dropping her head onto the table, Uryuu stood up. "Alright. Is anyone going to pick him up from there?" he nodded towards Grimmjow, still groaning, face down the table.
The only people around were Urahara, and the man who he had bumped into earlier. The dark haired man didn't look like he had any intention of helping. Uryuu glanced at the bar owner instead, who was already going over to the direction of Orihime's friend.
"Let's pick him up beside Orihime. Besides, she was meeting him… something about a battle, I think," Urahara said behind his quickly vibrating open fan.
Uryuu gawked. "Battle?"
"No idea, she was talking to us about handling a colleague. I think he was supposed to help her, somehow."
"Alright." He walked over and picked up the blue haired man, noticing that he was much heavier than how he looked. "I guess this guy's added a few pounds after the show?"
Urahara grunted as he carried Grimmjow on the opposite site. He was still groaning. "About a kilogram, I gather. He didn't finish his." Urahara humorously pointed out.
"Right…." Came Ishida's sarcastic reply. He heaved Orihime's heavy friend, and glanced back at the counter, hoping that the other person would help. The man was gone. Ishida grumbled. The least he could do was help out after having a cut of the entertainment tonight. He lugged the knocked out man towards the empty seat beside Orihime.
They got him seated him beside Orihime, which was looking rather better after her first sip. She still giggled though, and nudged the man beside her. "So, you're convinced, right? Still want another mug of your Weihenstephaner?"
"Please… no girl should be able to down that much steak in one go… it's fucking unnatural, Princess," clutching his stomach. He suddenly lurched and quickly covered his mouth. "I think I'm going to throw up."
"Don't you dare Grimmjow.." she giggled uncontrollably. "Otherwise you're not man enough..."
"I should be calling you a monster in the office, not princess…" he groaned, his head still on the table, "Unnatural…" he eyed her incredulously, "and you can still drink a glass of lemon water? How big exactly is your stomach, Princess?"
"Alright, enough bantering for one night, kids," Urahara chirped. "That was a mean piece of steak I had Jinta cooked up for you guys."
"Give me a minute… I'll have my wallet out in no time.." Grimmjow made an effort to get his wallet from his pockets, but then he promptly slumped back onto the table in front of him.
"It's alright Grimmjow-san, pay me back on Monday when you come back from work, no hurry."
"Ugh. She must be a cow, they have three stomachs, don't they?"
"Four, Grimmjow-kun." She corrected, now feeling a bit better as the lemon water started taking effect, and turned to Ishida. "I feel much better now... But wasn't nice to deny me a nice, long sleep, though." she pouted.
Uryuu crooked his glasses and faced her, smiling. "I guess you're not up for a drink now?"
"No, but how about dessert?" She even managed to throw out a respectable wink at him.
"Unnatural…." She heard her colleague groan.
"I could go for coffee," Ishida smiled.
"Grimmjow, do you want to go back home now? I can call you a cab," she asked.
"Yes,… home."
"Tell you what Inoue-san, let's bring your friend home. I brought a car along. I think it's better we bring him up ourselves."
"Regardless, I don't think I know where Grimmjow lives." She turned to look at her friend. "Where DO you live, Grimmjow-kun?"
"Near, just Las Noches, near the park."
"Well that's not far, but I'm not going to carry your friend back there," Ishida commented, "Let's load him up, I'll drive the way. Wait here, Inoue-san. I'll ring you up when I'm near so you can bring your friend out."
She nodded.
Orihime waited inside Benihime's, until she heard her phone ringing. She grabbed her colleague, supporting him by the shoulders. He looked like he was feeling a bit better.
"Lets go Grimmjow."
She stepped out with Grimmjow supporting himself on her shoulder, and was trying to find Uryuu's beat up blue Honda hatchback in the crowd. Instead, she found him coming out of a sleek, big, black impressive looking sedan. It looked imposing.
Grimmjow looked at the car and gave a muffled laugh. "BMW 9 series. Nice wheels, man. Let's hope I don't throw up inside though, it'd be a shame to mess it up. A cab would have been far nicer."
"Just get in," Uryuu replied curtly.
"Your loss, buddy."
AN: I really think she can rival Yoruichi in terms of appetite. We all know Orihime has her little quirks. I just made sure to show it in this fanfic. So did you catch it? Did you catch it? Did you see him?
Next: Orihime gets her dessert, Uryuu gets his coffee, and this story starts to brew trouble to boiling hot temp.