Wow, twenty chapters in... Seems insane that it has come this far.

Personal update: I am going insane. Daily reminder to appreciate being able to use both legs.

I have to say, it has been weird to write such a long night. I normally write in broken scenes all leading to important events, and I've always hated that about my writing style. So hopefully this means I'm growing!

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Bleach or any of its characters

Let's jump in-

We withdrew from the long stretch of shops to enter into the Merchant square. While we referred to it as the square it was circular in shape. Completely round and surrounded by shops and many corresponding streets cut through it. It was filled with people and sounds, music played from a restaurant across the square, filling the night with a playful hum. In the center of the circle was a large fountain, with shooting water, cascading down the marble for which it was made. The square was beautiful, yet crowded. I hated large crowds, I felt exposed in the middle of such unorchestrated mayhem.

Ichigo on the other hand, didn't even pause, he walked confident and proud right into the mess of people, pulling me along by my wrist. The space was so packed, no one even noticed me among them.

They all bumped into me, throwing back apologies as they continued on, and it was so oddly normal. A shark among a school of fish.

Ichigo pulled me out of the sea of walkers in front of a small shop, with a sign out front telling us what they were serving that night, I had never heard of any of it. The restaurant was full, nearly all the tables occupied by families and couples. As we entered a young woman came up to us, her smile as bright as the sun.

"Hey, it's been awhile!" She addressed Ichigo.

I looked up at him, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I've had a lot on my plate."

"No room for even my fried noodles?" The woman teased.

"I'm here to make room." Was Ichigo's good natured reply.

I must have blended into the background flawlessly, for the woman did not look once in my direction and Ichigo didn't attempt to introduce me. I looked around, attempting to become comfortable with my surroundings. I took note of all the exits and windows, I tallied all the people in the room. And when I was finished with that, Ichigo was turning to me.

I felt immensely awkward under his gaze, the same gaze that had just been on his waitress friend, who had seemed to have evaporated into thin air. I pushed down the evil swirl of emotion in my chest, and let Ichigo lead me through the shop, past tables and their occupants; He led me upstairs that brought us to another great room filled this time with empty tables. Yet he did not stop there, Ichigo kept us walking until we were outside, standing on a large balcony with a solitary table, overlooking the square below us, giving us a dull sound to remind us that we were not actually alone.

I took a seat carefully, still watching out into the courtyard, somewhat dumbfounded that such a peaceful place existed inside the city I'd grown up in. And that I had never even thought its existence was possible.

Ichigo, who seemed used to the beautiful sight, filled my glass with water, before placing the pitcher back on the table with a soft thud. And that thud shook my mind back into place.

"You come here often?" I questioned, picking up my glass to take a small sip.

Ichigo chuckled, "I use to, not so much anymore."

"Why the sudden change?"

He took far longer to answer this time and when he did, it was simple reasoning indeed. "You take up a lot of my time, Princess."

I felt no guilt at his words, as he, no doubt, anticipated. For I had told him time and time again that his forever presence was not exactly a welcomed part of my hectic life. And so I said nothing, sipping on my water for the five minutes it took for the middle aged waiter to venture out onto the terrace.

I allowed Ichigo to order for me, only because the menu was strange and completely foreign to me, and if I was left to order for myself, I would most likely order the least appetizing dish. But when the man inquired about our preferred wine, Ichigo turned to me, signaling me to answer.

"Whatever you'd suggest." Vague enough.

"So," Ichigo began as the older gentlemen departed. "What do you usually talk about on your dates with lover boy? So I know to do better than him."

I rolled my eyes, "I don't have dates with him- and this certainly isn't a date."
I knew I was in trouble the moment that sinful smirk began its way over his mouth. "Music, romantic setting, private table? Damn, Princess have you never been on a date?"

My cheeks flamed under the moonlight, and I crossed my arms, reminding myself that I was the ruler of my own body- and i had no reason to be embarrassed. Yet my burning cheeks wouldn't cool, no matter what I told myself.

"But that is besides the point, I suppose." Ichigo said, saving me unwittingly. "Yet, you never answered my previous question." I waited. "What it is you and North boy do together. You know, alone."

I looked at him sideways, "You seem very curious about us. Why?"

"My curiosity doesn't let me choose what catches its attention."

"Yes, but I might feel more inclined to answer if I knew what brought the question to your lips."

Ichigo sucked on said lip as he considered my words. He was given more time to debate within himself, as the same waiter arrived again, this time with a companion. The young girl from before, who was very familiar with Ichigo, held a dusty bottle of wine in her small hands. Hands that looked soft and unweathered; not a scar in sight. I pulled my hands into my lap.

While she had seemed very chatty earlier, now she said not a word, keeping her eyes on her task. Filling my glass before moving on to Ichigo's. That is until Ichigo held his hand over the bowl of his glass with a shake of his head.

I held my tongue as the waiter placed our plates in front of us, the stem rising to embrace my chin. But the moment he was gone, the words practically flew out of me. "You don't drink?"

He was already digging into his noodles, cutting them into more manageable lengths. I don't believe anyone other than myself would have noticed the small pause in his cuts. So microscopic, and over before most would consider it begun. He smiled it away, "No, I've never cared for the taste."

I hummed, nodding as he took his first bite.

Like most men, his complete attention was swallowed up with every mouthful of food he shoveled up. It was both disgusting and intriguing to watch.

And the moment my own noodle dish past my cringing lips, I understood his enthusiasm. The taste was like nothing I had ever experienced. Spicy with a delicate twist of sweetness that swam through in a quick like fashion over my tongue.

I was thoroughly enjoying every bite, coming closer and closer to being just as quick and attentive to every noodle as Ichigo himself.

"It seems now, that you are the one avoiding my questions." And I could admit, it was a tiny relief to be on the other end of it.

"I would never avoid your scarcely asked questions. Your curiosity in me lifts my heavy heart." I gave him a business like look, demanding a no nonsense answer. He sighed heavily, letting his fork rest for the time being. "Remind me, again, of your, undoubtedly, beautifully worded question."

I ignored the condescending tone. "What fuels the sudden interest in mine and Ryley's relationship."

"Orihime Inoue, Heir to the Golden Throne, Iron fist of the West, forced into an arranged marriage to the North? My intrigue with it is only as sudden as the engagement itself."

He, cordially, waited five seconds for me to respond, and when I could not find the proper words, he picked up his fork, and went right back to his noodles.

"It wasn't forced." I mumbled, pushing my remaining food around.

He made a humph sound around his food.

""The marriage. I wasn't forced into it."

"Oh, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's not how I heard it."

"Then, you heard wrong. I can't be forced into anything."

I suddenly had an image of two rams smashing their large horns together over and over in a show of force. Neither budging, making it seem to all the world that they would be stuck in that infinite loop forever. Yet, Ichigo and I both seemed to have the same vision, and it caused us to still. I longer than him, who just could not avoid the allure of his waiting food in front of him.

"You remind me of a book cover." He said, a few minutes later, suddenly breaking the silence, through a mouth full of pasta. "Like... a beckoning frozen image that hides all of these secrets beneath." I stared at him from across the table, torn between scoffing at his vision of me or laughing at the stray pieces of noodle dangling from his chin. When the food cleared, he picked up his water glass, swirling it slightly before bring it to his lips, sipping it like it was the fine wine sitting untouched in my own glass. "Books are written about women like you."

This time, all I felt the need to do was laugh. Yet I had to agree with him, if only by a small degree. "Tragedies, perhaps ."

He was shaking his head before the last word left my mouth. "Maybe at first. But the best stories have growth; change. The only books I like to read have endings you can't see coming." Ichigo smirked over at me. "And a story about you? I'd stop my own heart for a chance to read it. You're an indomitable woman."

"And cold and detached. A frozen image."

"That's the thing about books, Princess, you have to flip the pages before you can see the change. How do you ever plan on reaching the end, if you only ever stare at the cover?"

"Maybe I don't want to reach the end. Endings are normally the worst part, aren't they? They are often rushed and sloppy. They're sad in unexplainable ways; even the happy ones. Endings just mean that there's nothing left worth saying."

And there it was. Bleak and unfortunate. But true, nonetheless.

Ichigo didn't seem to know how to respond, he just thought for a moment. Mulling it over, carefully and thoughtfully. And I appreciated that. How he hadn't been listening, only wanting to reply- to debunk what I'd said. But instead, to understand, to hear how I truly felt about it.

And I had never really noticed, how many times I'd been talked over, ignored and pushed aside. Even by the people closest to me, how they would shut me down before even knowing what it was I had to say.

My heart broke at the realization. Broke millions of times, in the course of a few seconds.

I had things to say. Maybe not all important, perhaps at times completely unnecessary, but why shouldn't I be allowed to say them? Why was my voice so easily drowned out?

Why had I allowed it to be?

I sat a bit straighter in my chair for the remainder of the night, eating until I felt I would burst and sometimes forcing myself to say what I normally would bite my tongue to keep in. And, surprisingly, those things were met with such an Ichigo like vigor, he would laugh, even going as far as to spit water all over the table, or he would accommodate, adapt and grow serious. Making sure to give his full attention to every word.

And with the soft flowing music that never stopped and the hustle of the busy street below, I felt as if I was on a whole other planet entirely.

Even when I looked out, finding two men I knew fairly well, it did not break the spell. For Sam and Devon did not look up onto the balcony of the small restaurant, did not see me sitting at a small secluded table with our newest recruit.

Because in that small little moment, on that short little night, I was not Orihime Inoue. I was not the General to the largest army in the world, I was not betrothed to Ryley Vilantrio, or daughter to Clark Madoc.

I was a twenty year old girl, sitting at a table on a not-date with an almost acquaintance, in the city I, perhaps, could love.

.

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So this chapter had a lot more dialogue than I'm use to. If you haven't noticed I'm more of an internal writer, and it was fun to change it up and focus on pushing out those internal feelings and forming them into words.

I hope you guys enjoyed Ichigo and Orihime's first "not-date" as much I enjoyed writing it.

Till next time-