Man I wish this chapter would never end, I loved writing it that much. Yet funny enough this is the shortest chapter I've written.
I felt it should end where it ended, so it can't be helped.
Thank you to the reviewers! I'm super happy you enjoyed last chapter!
WARNING: This chapter has more of the dark themes in it and you should not read it if that will be a problem!
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Bleach or any of its characters.
How long had she been here? How many days had passed?
Did the sun still rise and set? Did it even still exist?
It seemed that the monsters never left. They did not need rest or nourishment. All their bodies needed was to make hers bleed- to push her so far into the pain that her screams were nothing but silent yawns.
"You are Orihime Inoue," They chanted over her cries. "Heir to the Golden Throne. And you feel nothing."
Yet, fear was all the girl felt. She feared their hands, feared their breath, feared the very thumping of her own heart. For if it could still beat then that meant she was still there. In the dark, tied and naked. Exposed like a nerve.
Her entire body was made of that fear. But the girl repeated their words. Repeated them in a foolish hope that it would make them stop. Just for a moment she wanted them to stop. Just one.
"I am Orihime Inoue. Heir to the Golden Throne and I feel nothing."
She screamed nothing but those words for hours as they took even more of her away. As they took everything away. But those words remained. And soon, they were the only thing that made any sense to her.
If I can count on anything being simple in my life, it is steel and iron. Fists and legs. All striking for vulnerable flesh.
It is easier to take a life than to live one. At least in my own experience.
Hisagi, however, seemed to have a difficult time with even the most basic of combat. He was slowly growing, now even a few inches taller than me, and with all the excess running and training his body was wide and large. He looked like a true soldier, yet put a sword in his hand and the kid froze.
Soon, it became obvious to me that he would need a less direct method. And that's how we got to sitting on the rough floor of the sparring ring, criss-cross, face to face, knees nearly touching.
"Believe it or not, but fighting didn't come easy to me." I began, after a few minutes of him avoiding my gaze. He looked up under his lashes. "I'd worked day and night, since I was six years old to become even an inch of who I now am. Fighting and bleeding and wishing for nothing more than peace. But, peace was never in my destiny, and it is not meant for you either, Hisagi. I stole that life from you."
"You saved me." He protested softly. I remembered back to that day, to my reasoning for stepping up. I remembered how skinny he was, how ill fitting his clothing was. He was weak and feeble, seeming to never before even have moved his long awkward body. Despite, the clear signs that he was not a strong person, the look in his eyes said otherwise. I had known that he had something inside of him that made him nearly unhinged. Looking into his eyes, I saw myself. I saved him then, because no one had saved me. I saved him out of selfishness, and he had spend a year praising me for it.
"Tell me, what was your life before the apples?" Before me.
He grew still, his fingers unclenching to fidget with the dirt on his pants. "But you already-"
I cut him off, huffing. "You think I never knew you lied about your past?" His eyes widened. "I'm Heir to the most corrupt city on the planet, lies are like daily vitamins to me. I can respect your dedication to your lie, but it is time to tell me the truth."
"Is that an order?" It was spoken in the smallest voice I'd ever heard. I nodded but he never looked up, and so I said with authority, "Yes."
Hisagi thought long and hard about it, and I focused on the rise and fall of his chest, all my attention drawn to the slight twitch in his lower lip. Would my breath catch, would my lips tremble, if i had not been taught to hide such weakness?
"I was born in Bellator, to a young woman who felt, I suppose, that she was too young to raise a child. I was thrown out, and taken in by a tavern owner. She was... crude and loud but she kept me fed, kept me warm. Until one of her nightly companions put a dagger through her skull. I was on my own after that. I was six years old." The same age I was when I was thrown into combat by my father.
"Bellator is a wonderful place, full of great, trustworthy people, but even their generosity wears thin. When I was close to my eighth birthday a merchant who was traveling west, offered me a ride." Hisagi paused, and his hands began to shake. "The man, he wasn't Bellatonian... and that alone should have made me decline but I accepted. And because of that my fate was altered completely. The man, I stayed with him when we got here, and soon I learned he had an... inkling for children. For me..."
"Hisagi,"
"I spent a years in hell. And even if I ran, I had no where to go. I was in a strange place, and I had no clue how things worked here. He told me that if I told a soul, I would find myself lost deeper within that hell. So I grew, older and older I became, until one day I was too old; at least by his disgusting standards. Fourteen years old, dropped at the foot of The Golden Throne accused of theft by a wealthy merchant. My hell, coming to an abrupt end."
Surprised, angry, and disgusted. I was feeling a lot of things as Hisagi fed me his history. But above all else was my intense feeling of failure. That man, he'd been standing right in front of me and I had failed to see it.
"Then there you were, a shining light through the darkness. You spoke, and the world listened. Even when he protested, you just spoke louder and your words rang law. You did save me that day, Orihime. Not only from death, but from him. From the crushing weight of wanting to die. You are the best warrior this world has ever seen, and yet somehow I fail to learn from you... I fail to prove myself worthy of being saved."
I pushed past my disagreement, only enough to say, "You are not a failure, Hisagi. I had many teachers, and my brother, to help guide me. To fuel that burning inside of me. I was not born this way, I was forged like steel; shaped into a warrior. I think I was wrong in assuming all can be taught that way."
I stood up, and he followed, nearly falling in his attempt to rise quickly. Hisagi looked at me with confusion but I just looked about the room, searching.
A dark figure emerged from the darkness behind us, walking towards us until he appeared in the light. Ichigo's face, usually so filled with humor, was bleak in its sorrow.
Hisagi threw his arm out in front of me.
And in doing so proved what I'd predicted. Hisagi is not a soldier or a fighter. He is something far more rare. Learning his story, I had started to piece together a new training path for him. He sees me, not as the warrior I am, but instead as his protector, his savior.
"Who are you?" He demanded of Ichigo.
Ichigo did not answer, didn't even look at him. He kept his attention focused on my face, as I fed him every detail of my plan through my eyes. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would understand. And so, I moved Hisagi's hand away, lowering his arm as I moved towards Ichigo. "He is going to help you, Hisagi. He is going to be the key to your training." I drew Vladimir, and let it drop two steps away from Oliver's feet.
Ichigo gave me a look that told me he wasn't happy with his new found role and as I neared him even more, that look only intensified. I would not let his code of ethics get in the way of Hisagi's future. I nodded, one swift movement, that gave every sign of consent. And when I was standing before him, I stopped, stayed completely still, and watched as Ichigo fisted his fingers and brought them up, with all of his strength, into my undefended gut.
Oxygen was taken from me as I collapsed. I wheezed for breath, coughing up burning air. Hisagi cried out, and seemed almost frozen in his shock. He extended one hand out, looking to me with indescribable fear.
"Help me, Hisagi." I managed to say, as Ichigo lifted me up by a sharp tug of my arm, only to connect a powerful blow to my jaw; knocking me back down. My head spun, and I looked over my shoulder at him, glaring my displeasure. I could take whatever he gave, and I resented the fact that he was holding himself back.
Clenching his teeth, Ichigo sent a kick up into my ribs.
Better.
Hisagi still stood there, not believing what he was seeing. "Save me, Hisagi!' I cried, forcing myself to have the tone of a victim.
No, Hisagi was no fighter. He was not someone who could channel his hate into punches and swings.
He was a protector. With no sense of self preservation, no sense of self pity. He would die before hurting a living breathing soul, but for me? For his savior, his liberator? For Orihime Inoue, who plucked him from the darkness and showed him kindness in a world that had given him nothing but pain and loss?
I was putting all of myself on the line for the idea that for me, Hisagi would do just about anything.
So, I would take the beating, and Ichigo would give it- to help me save Hisagi one more time. Hisagi, who stared on in horror as Ichigo hit me again and again, my blood splattered across the concrete. Hisagi, who seemed shocked that his hero was being beaten, that she was on the ground begging for his help, confused that she could be bested, at all.
He had a battle waging inside of himself. One I'd had many years ago, thrashing in the sand, with my brother crushing my throat in his hands.
Fight or die.
Kill or be killed.
I knew what I had chosen, but I also knew this life was not one everyone could live. Some would pick the lesser of two evils, despite their best interests. If it had been himself being beaten on the ground, broken and bleeding, he would choose to die, and that was something I couldn't except. And so I was selfishly changing his battle.
Fight for me, or let me die.
Let Ichigo kill me, or kill to save me.
My vision was beginning to blur, every breath from my lungs was a battle in and of its self. And at least three of my ribs were broken. Yet, I let Ichigo continue, I made eye contact with him, to find tears swelling in his own. But I begged him, silently. To continue, to not give up. I was relying so much on his ability to push past his own need. And he did, because Ichigo was so much like me. He knew the ends justified the means. If the goal was pure enough.
And Hisagi? His battle ended.
And he picked up the sword.
.
.
.
Man this broke my heart!
Ichigo would do anything to help our Hime, and Orihime would do anything to save her friend.
Don't worry, Orihime can take anything!
Till next time-