Chapter 1
Don't Speak for Me
"Whether you like it or not, you're gonna take what I got
If we can't talk about it, we'll just keep drowning in it
Give me credit or not, I give a lot, give a lot
But don't you speak for me
No, don't you speak for me"
Evanescence- Use My Voice - 2020
The 10th of Dew Crest, 2035 at 23:45pm
The sounds of crickets echoed through an alleyway. Tall buildings made of chipped bricks and crumbling mortar gave the impression of decay. The scent of petrichor hung in the humid air in an oppressive nature.
Ichigo Kurosaki placed his hand on the hilt of his sheathed katana, his eyes darting towards the single lamppost that lit the area dimly. He raised his hand to touch the cloth covering the lower half of his face, adjusting the mask securely. He had just gotten the intel from Licht that a soldier from Western Force was in this vicinity.
Fast footsteps rang through the darkness and mist, forcing him to grip his sword, thumb resting on the edge where the weapon and scabbard met. He backed closer to the darkness to conceal his presence. Ichigo narrowed his eyes and slowly shifted into a readied position. The movement sounded hurried and like the person was stumbling.
The footfalls grew louder, increasingly becoming faster and at a frantic pace. Ichigo's wrist began to vibrate as his notification for a new order from the prismatic band flickered to life. He rolled his eyes and shrugged the strapped pack down his left shoulder, switching to the crossbow and bolt quiver within.
"Fuck." Ichigo muttered darkly. Drawing the cobalt bolt back in the weapon, he raised it to aim at the noise. The sounds stopped suddenly, as a figure emerged from the fog and into the dim light.
Ichigo focused on it through the sight, sliding the stock to a sinewy shoulder. His ears pricked at the soft, feminine whimpering coming from the shrouded person in front of him. An arm lifted from the shadowed figure, desperately grabbing onto the lamppost to keep up right. A light sound of dripping hit Ichigo's ears and the scent of rust and copper filtered through his mask. Blood, Ichigo thought.
The figure fell to the street in a crumpled heap, locks of long, auburn hair escaping from under the hood. He crept slowly towards it, the movements practiced and cautious. As he neared, his eyes widened. His knees touched the ground as he inspected the undeniable female body.
"Fuck." Ichigo repeated.
He pulled the hood back from the woman's face to reveal a deep gash seeping blood steadily from the wound on her temple. Her face was pale and her skin ashen from blood loss. It caked the side of her head, flecks of it drying and crumbling to the cobblestone beneath. Ichigo pressed his middle and forefinger to her throat, satisfied that the pulse was strong. He took time perusing over the woman's attire. His dark amber eyes zeroed in on something shiny in her fingers. Two crystalline hairpins were gripped tightly in her palm.
Flicking the transmitter on his shoulder, he sighed and deftly slipped the crossbow onto his back, simultaneously disarming it. As he radioed central command, a sigh left his lips. "Datenshi to base."
A crackling and feedback caused Ichigo to flinch. "Acknowledged. What's your position, Devil?"
Ichigo rolled his eyes. He really hated that nickname. "Currently in the North-South-West section of Rukongai. I have a civilian down and need a med-team here ASAP."
"Uh, Datenshi, you know we don't evac civilians-"
"Damnit Keigo! She's hurt." Ichigo growled impatiently. "Tell Licht that I need a team here, now!"
"Hey! You're breaking protocol-" the sound was broken off and some grumbling before another voice spoke.
"Devil you were told the exact coordinates of the mark, why are you rescuing damsels in distress?" The tinny, cool tone questioned.
Ichigo clenched his teeth as he tried to keep the irritation he was feeling from dripping into his voice. "Licht, you're gonna want to take a look at this." He adjusted his position so that his body cam focused the image of the woman to Licht's screen.
A low, frustrated noise came from the other side. "Kurosaki, what have you gotten yourself into this time? Fine! Med-team will be there at your location in fifteen. Be ready, or we'll leave you behind."
"Understood. Datenshi, over and out."
Ichigo knelt beside the fallen woman, taking her wrist and pressing his fingers to her pulse. He rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension building from stress and to reduce the oncoming migraine he felt twinging in the back of his head. It was going to be a long night.
It took the med-team less than the time Licht had stated, and Ichigo wondered if the man was aggravated enough with the situation to push them to get it over with. The paramedics assessed the woman's injuries, placing her on a gurney and strapping a neck brace to keep her head and neck stable. Ichigo watched with a scrutinizing gaze at the ashen face of the woman, trying to discern why and how she had gotten into this predicament.
"We're all set, Datenshi." The paramedic told Ichigo. "We'll set her up in the ward. Dr. Unohana is awaiting the patient."
Ichigo nodded. "Thank you. I'll ride with you."
He slid into the back of the inconspicuous vehicle and sat on a bench next to the gurney. As the paramedic closed the doors in the back, he pulled out something from the bags of the woman's belongings.
"I found some ID on her. I thought you would want to look it over."
Ichigo took the items from the other man, feeling uncomfortable looking through them. However, he realized it was pertinent, regardless of the way it made his stomach churn. He opened the woman's wallet, reading over her identification.
"Orihime Inoue, age twenty-five." Ichigo muttered to himself as he read over the information. "Inoue, Inoue… how do I know that name?"
They arrived at the base of operations within minutes, quickly pulling into the expansive and undisclosed hangar occupying the left side of an unremarkable building. The gurney was soon pulled out, with the woman who was still unconscious, urgently to the underground lift. Ichigo kept an eye on the woman as they descended floors to the base of operations.
When the doors opened, Doctor Retsu Unohana was waiting outside, computer pad at the ready.
"Datenshi," the doctor greeted with a firm nod to Ichigo. "What are the extent of noticeable injuries?" She asked the lead paramedic.
"Patient has a deep wound to her right temple. The bleeding has been staunched, but her blood pressure continues to be on the low side. The neck brace was applied, and an IV drip administered."
Ichigo stepped back as Dr. Unohana moved to examine the woman.
"What information did you gather on the patient?" Her eyes darted to him.
Clearing his throat, Ichigo relayed the name, address, and age.
"Inoue?" The doctor hummed as she pulled out a penlight to examine the patient's pupils. "As in the sister of chairman Sora Inoue?"
Ichigo's eyebrows drew inward. That's how he knew the name. Sora Inoue had been a strong force behind the radical group fighting against the autocracy. He had recently been assassinated by a group suspected to be affiliated with the ruling party. Ichigo's attention was drawn back to Unohana when she spoke to the nurses and other techs about getting a CT scan and MRI.
Soon, the woman was wheeled off to radiology, leaving Ichigo alone with Unohana.
"Do you remember anything else? Anything may help, no matter how infinitesimal." The doctor turned to fix a curious gaze on the man.
Air rushed out of his lungs as he considered all that had happened in the few moments before Orihime had stumbled into the targeted area. "She was obviously injured. I almost mistook her for my hit. She seemed to be on the run from something or someone. At least, that's the impression I got."
Unohana hummed in response. "Well, we'll keep a close eye on her. Most likely, she has a concussion. The labs and scans will give me a better idea. For now, all we can do is wait."
Ichigo nodded quietly, unsure of how to respond. He felt the woman pat his back and offer him a smile. "You did well. Not many would stop their mission to rescue someone that fell into their laid trap for another hit. You keep that in mind when Ishida reams you out for not following orders."
He gritted his teeth at that, nodding to the doctor and thanking her for her help, promising to check in on the patient later. The last thing he needed right now was Uryû's ornery, contemptuous mood. Ichigo rolled his shoulders and turned to head back to Central.
The first thing Orihime noticed as she woke up, was the dull thumping in her head. The second, was a light beeping sound and the steady movements of the machine pumping fluids into her body through the IV. Her foggy mind felt cluttered, quiet and loud at the same time. She opened her eyes lazily, her movements sluggish. Her gaze drifted around the room. It was unfamiliar but not unsettling. The environment was sterile, and the scent of antiseptic hung in the air.
Soon after she woke, a woman entered her room, dressed in scrubs and lab coat. Her long raven colored hair was braided sensibly, and her eyes looked kind.
"Ah, I see that you're once again amongst the living, Ms Inoue."
Orihime's forehead crinkled in confusion, and she let out a gasp when the action caused her head to throb. She raised a hand instinctually to her temple and felt the bandage there. Her stormy eyes cut to the doctor.
"Where am I?" Her voice was hoarse, and she coughed while trying to clear her throat.
The doctor stepped over to Orihime's bedside and gave her a cup of water from the hospital tray.
"Here. Small sips, now." The woman's soft voice soothed Orihime's frazzled thoughts.
While the young woman drank slowly from the straw, the other woman introduced herself.
"I'm Doctor Unohana. You are currently in the Ryoka base hospital facility. One of our operatives came across you on his… well mission. He radioed his team to the site after he found you unresponsive." The doctor explained.
"Oh," Orihime placed her cup down on the tray. "Wait, the Ryoka base?"
"Yes. And a good thing he did, too. The laceration on your temple and the fact you had been unconscious were certainly things that needed to be addressed. Especially the possibility of head trauma. Now," Unohana paused as she pulled out a penlight to examine Orihime's pupils. "We did an MRI and a CT scan while you were out, along with intravenous fluids and pain medication. Your blood tests are good, though your iron levels are a bit low. There's no infection. Your scans showed some fluid and slight swelling, which indicates a concussion. I'm going to check your reflexes and examine you now that you're awake. Is that alright?"
With her head swimming from the pain medication and new information, she nodded quietly. Orihime followed the doctor's instructions and answered her questions.
"Well, you're certainly looking better. We'll be keeping an eye on you since head injuries can be tricky things. I'll ask the nurse to bring you something to eat. Rest as much as you can. There's a call button on the remote by your bed. Feel free to watch TV and let us know if you need anything." Unohana stepped back from her and gave the young woman a gentle smile.
"Thank you for your help, doctor." Orihime smiled weakly, but sincerely.
"Not a problem at all, Ms. Inoue."
Orihime let out a soft sigh once she was alone again. Her mind was still clouded by the narcotics flowing through her system and she was missing time. There was something that had caused her to run, but for the life of her, she couldn't remember what it was.
Orihime was startled when there was a knock at her door.
"Uh…" she stammered dumbly. "Yes? Come in."
The door slid open, and a tall man stepped into her room. Orihime felt her breathing stutter as she took in his appearance. His shaggy and spiky orange hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. His face was angular, with a strong jawline and full lips. His nose looked slightly crooked, as if it had been broken in the past and healed over several times. His body was muscular, with a preternatural grace that also appeared deadly. The way his dark, amber eyes examined his surroundings spoke volumes. When his gaze found hers, she felt her heart falter, and then run again at a frightening pace.
"You're awake," the man said in a soft and husky tone. His expression was careful and curious. "Good. How are you feeling, Ms. Inoue?"
Orihime raised both hands in a nervous gesture, shaking her head. "Oh no, please. Call me Orihime. Ms. Inoue sounds so formal."
The courtesy was appreciated when people were showing respect, but at this point, she was a guest.
A slow, crooked smile pulled at the man's lips. "Orihime." He said her name slowly, as if tasting the sound of it with his tongue. It caused a pleasant shiver to ripple through her body, and she cursed herself for it.
"And you, sir? May I know your name?" She forced her voice to sound more stable, most likely failing.
He cringed. "Please, don't call me sir. If I'm to call you by your given name, then please use mine or my code name. Either Ichigo or Datenshi is fine."
Orihime couldn't stop the smile that lit her face as she giggled softly. "Ichigo."
She may have imagined it, but something seemed to shift in Ichigo's gaze when she tried out each syllable of his name. Almost like a flame flickering in a breeze, lighting up and faltering on a candle wick.
As quickly as she saw it, it was gone, replaced by concern as he stepped toward her bed. "Are you alright?"
"I guess I'm better than when I was found." She shrugged tiredly. "I'm indebted to the person that brought me here."
A grin tugged on Ichigo's mouth again and he dipped his head. "That would be me. And don't feel indebted. I couldn't just leave you there."
Orihime poised her response matter of factly, "Very few would've stopped to help in this day in age. Even less would risk a mission of significance to do so. You have my deepest gratitude."
"Alright. Fair enough, I suppose." Ichigo chuckled. "To be honest, I normally wouldn't have."
"Then why me?" His words had piqued her curiosity.
Placing a hand on the back of his neck, Ichigo grinned lopsidedly. "I'm not quite sure. I went with my gut."
"Well, I do hope I wasn't any trouble for you and your agency. I am grateful for your kindness, regardless." A slow smile touched her lips.
"Eh, not at all. I'm used to Ishida giving me the disapproving glare and cold, clipped tone." Ichigo pulled a chair over to Orihime's bedside. "Just another Tuesday."
Orihime sat up a bit more on the bed, wincing slightly when the bandage chafed against her wound.
"Woah, easy there." Ichigo stood to help her steady herself. "Do you need anything?"
She smiled weakly and waved her hand in shooing motion. "Thank you, but I think the worst has passed."
Ignoring the woman's brittle insistence that she was alright, Ichigo moved the pillows behind her to help make her more comfortable.
"You really don't need to do that," Orihime said, smiling despite herself.
"If I didn't want to, I wouldn't." Ichigo peered down at her with a crooked grin. "I do have some questions for you, when you're more clear-headed."
"Clear-headed," her quiet tone became thoughtful. She sat up suddenly in a startled motion. "Oh!"
Ichigo frowned, perplexed, and concerned at her outburst. "What's wrong?"
"My hairpins! Where are they?" Her eyes darted around the room as her anxiety began to rise.
"Easy, easy!" Ichigo placed his hands on her shoulders. "I have them here."
He pulled out the blue hibiscus jeweled hair pins from his pocket. "They were in your hand when I found you. I wanted to keep them safe, as I figured they were important to you."
Orihime slumped in relief when he placed them in her hand. "Oh, thank goodness!"
Ichigo smiled briefly as he sat back down. "If you don't mind my asking, what's the story behind them?"
Her posture went rigid at the question, plastering a wary, fragile smile on her face. "They were a gift from my brother, and therefore precious to me."
Ichigo raised an eyebrow at her strange behavior, noting her shift in mood and quick buildup of walls. "Look, I get that you're probably cautious about what you say around people who you don't know. It's good that you are. People need to earn your respect and trust. I hope at some point, I'm someone you will consider trusting."
Orihime was taken aback by Ichigo's statement. "Why?"
"Why what?" Confusion colored his tone.
"Why do you care?" She squinted at him in bewilderment. "I'm a stranger to you and my story is murky at best. Do you gain anything from it?"
She half expected Ichigo to take offense to her question. Instead, he shrugged his broad shoulders with a sheepish smile.
"I'm not sure, myself." Ichigo answered honestly. "I'm not trying to pry or glean any information from you. I understand that might be difficult to believe, coming from someone in my profession. I just felt drawn to you. I don't have a better explanation than that."
Orihime's shoulders relaxed. "I suppose that's fair."
Ichigo gingerly placed the hairpins in the woman's palm and closed her fingers over them. He looked from her hand to her eyes, and Orihime saw a glimmer of something deeper and perhaps primal in his gaze.
He slowly rose from the chair, dipping his head to her. "Get some rest, Orihime. I'll see you in the morning."
She watched Ichigo leave and slowly parted her fingers to examine the hairpins carefully. Turning them over in her hand, Orihime let out a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness. I'd certainly be in trouble if I had lost you!" She stuck them on the collar of her hospital gown. Feeling the gentle pull of sleep, she closed her eyes.
The shimmering of the jewels on the accessory grew, flickering to life and growing dim in slow bursts as she slept.