AN: This chapter is very Orihime-heavy, so if you're bothered by that, you can actually skip this chapter and enjoy the rest of the fic just fine. :)


The world was singing a tune of hope- one which only Orihime could hear.

She'd spoken to Ishida-kun, after all. And that was certainly reason enough to celebrate life. As she walked the campus teeming with activity, she half expected the nearby students to break out into song. She would've gladly joined in, if it happened.

She'd also joined the Handicraft Enthusiast's Club- Ishida-kun's club- and she'd have the chance to see him at least once a week. After his schedule opened up, of course. She hummed at the thought, smiling.

There had to have been a good reason for him not to show up, something more than what he told her. Maybe he was some kind of secret agent and had to go on missions when he wasn't busy with class. That was certainly good reason not to come to Handicraft Club.

But it was all going to change, she thought, as she made her way towards the theater department for her next class. She would have conversations with him many minutes long- or even get his number! She smiled softly at the thought. It was all because she joined the Handicraft Enthusiast's Club.


Orihime didn't join the Handicraft Enthusiast's Club.

But she didn't know that.

Three days earlier, Orihime and Tatsuki had entered the university's club fair. Tatsuki dug out a bag of small promotional pins for the Martial Arts Club from her backpack and left to help at her club's table. (After Orihime asked her for one- to show her support as a good friend, a sacred duty she took very seriously.)

That left Orihime to find the Handicraft Club on her own. Row after row of tables filled the halls, each with different interests that ranged from alternative modes of campus transportation to stray cat rescue. She skimmed the signs for the Handicraft Club. Her footsteps were light, her feet practically skipping as she went, excited at the idea of spending time with Ishida-kun.

In her fervor, she stumbled upon the table with a banner labeled 'HEC'.

"Excuse me!" she said, bounding up to the table. "I'd like to join!"

The three men standing there, dressed in old t-shirts, hoodies, and various states of cleanliness, stared in disbelief. "…You would?" one of them asked.

She nodded fervently "Yes! Right away!"

The men shot glances between one another, finding it a very unexpected turn of events, but were mostly happy at the thought of a beautiful woman joining their club.

They shared not-so-subtle nods. Two of them moved awkwardly to stand in front of the club banner hanging from the table.

"Well… We suppose we can let you in," one of them said. The others nodded.

Another member leaned over the table at a very awkward and uncomfortable angle, blocking the information sheets and flyers from view.

The club members, who consisted primarily of single men who only dreamed of holding conversation with a beautiful woman- or socializing, in general- couldn't turn her away.

A man stepped forward. He wore a large, black leather trench coat, offset by the sweat stains visible on his shirt underneath. He was somewhat clean-shaven in that an attempt had been made, albeit some days ago. He wore a large chain at his waist with a pirate-flag-keyring hanging from it. "I'm Striker," he said. "I'm the president."

"His real name's Randy-"

"You can call me Striker," Striker- also known as Randy- said through gritted teeth with emphasis. He shot a disgruntled glare at his fellow club member. "These dweebs are Wraith and Neo." He nodded towards the other two members at the table. They awkwardly nodded at Orihime. One of them even mustered the courage for eye contact.

"It's nice to meet all of you," Orihime said with a bow. "I've always wanted to join-"

"We meet on Tuesdays," Wraith said. "And tonight. It's Tuesday."

"O-oh," Orihime nodded. "Right."

"At room 12B in the community building," Striker said. "Seven P.M."

"I see," she said with a serious nod. "I won't miss it!"

"Cool," Neo muttered with a smirk.

With a final smile brimming with determination, Orihime thanked them once more before bounding away.

Only then did they stand naturally, moving aside to reveal a banner for the Hacking Enthusiast's Club.


That Tuesday night, she arrived at a meeting room filled with computers bigger and newer than anything else on campus. Even the keyboards glowed and clicked in special ways. Colorful lights spilled from neon-embellished computer cases, the hues shifting through every shade of the rainbow. Orihime took in the posters on the walls for science fiction and fantasy films, the action figures, the robot models, and couldn't wait to find out what any of it had to do with crafts. It was by far the nicest room on campus- at least, as far as Orihime had seen. It was only surpassed by the President's office and Professor Urahara's secret private restroom.

It should be noted that video games were entirely absent from the room, because they weren't those kinds of hackers.

Orihime lightly skipped through the room. "It's so nice!" she said in awe, marveling at one computer after the next. "It must've been very expensive."

Striker chuckled and shared a knowing look with his fellow members. "Yeah. The school budget's really good to us."

Neo laughed. "Yeah, that's one way of putting it!"

Orihime finished her arc around the room. "So many computers! When are we going to make something? Oh! Are we going to sew clothes? Where are the sewing machines?"

"Uh… Yeah," Striker said. The members looked at one another awkwardly, nodding. "That comes later. In a different room. In about, uh… three weeks, we'll get to that."

"Later," Wraith grunted.

"Maybe a month!" Neo said. More forced nods.

"I see," she said, roving around the room again. "Oh! Did you make this mask?" On a wall hung a white decorative mask, large enough to cover an entire face, with a stylized mustache and beard in the style of Guy Fawkes.

"Uh-huh," they muttered. "Yup."

"That's right," Wraith said with an awkward nod.

"How cool!" she exclaimed. "Ah, I can't wait!" There was no sign of Ishida-kun, but the members assured her he only came sometimes, and not to worry about it.


It was an easy mistake to make.

Indeed, others had done the same, joining the Handicraft Club instead of the Hacking Club. There, young men found themselves surrounded by a group of mostly women who had struggled to find male models for their garments. They, too, were reluctant to lose the new members.

"Are we going to do any hacking? Or… Even programming?" the latest member, a man in a worn black hoodie, asked in confusion.

"Yeah, totally," a girl said as she unwrapped a roll of measuring tape. She snapped it taut with a 'crack!' in the air. The man flinched.

"In… About three weeks?" she muttered.

"Maybe a month," another girl said.

"Now, what size pants do you wear?"


Theater class threatened to sweep away her thoughts of Ishida-kun. The news was dire.

Orihime skipped gleefully from the theater department towards the Martial Arts Club. (Not to be confused with the Maritime Association of China, which was something different entirely.) She was armed with a plastic bag of critical importance and the knowledge that the theater department was counting on her.

"Tatsuki-chan!" Orihime practically sang, drawing out the last syllable. She bobbed and wove between students wearing gi or fitness gear, making a beeline for her friend.

Tatsuki stopped mid-strike while sparring with another student. "Orihime? What're you doing here?"

Orihime's smile didn't fade in the least, despite panting to regain her breath. "Tatsuki-chan! I need your help- the fate of the theater department depends on it!"

Tatsuki cocked a brow, as she knew that could have meant a lot of things. Experience told her it could've been anything from a minor water spill to filing insurance claims for property damage.

"Everyone, take a break- I'll be back," Tatsuki waved to the group of students nearest to her. She led Orihime away, out into the quieter and more private hallway.

Orihime couldn't help but smile, bubbling with excitement, carrying a plastic bag which she swung gleefully as they walked.

"You're the only one who can save us, Tatsuki-chan!" she started. "The theater department has to have someone walk around campus in costume because of a sponsorship deal- but there's no one who can do it on such short notice! And if we don't, Professor Ichimaru said we won't get funding from the sponsor and we'll go back to using cardboard for everything," Orihime hummed.

Tatsuki watched skeptically. "I dunno, Orihime… Don't you have someone else who can help?"

The recent news came to her easily, delivered by Professor Ichimaru earlier in class. "Well, there was Miyuki-san, but he had a terrible accident. And we need someone right away," Orihime smiled happily.

Tatsuki blinked. "You're in a good mood."

"Oh… I suppose I am." Orihime's smile grew softer, embarrassed.

"What happened? Did they cast you for a stage role?"

"Oh, no- Nothing like that," she held up her hands in front of her. "It's just…." She almost giggled, the encounter that morning coming so readily to mind, as it had all day. "I-I spoke with Ishida-kun, earlier."

Tatsuki grinned. "That's my girl! You finally told him how you feel, huh?"

It had been nearly a year since Orihime first saw Ishida, and it was practically love at first sight. And Tatsuki had told her, since the beginning, to talk to the man instead of hoping he would develop psychic powers- an outcome Orihime still hoped for, if in secret.

"Um… Well…" Orihime fidgeted with the hem of her blouse. "Not exactly… But we chatted about QuincyFashion, and how I like his posts!"

Tasuki knew that, left to her own devices, Orihime would let her feelings simmer for years without so much as approaching the man she felt for. She might pine well into middle age; her remaining days spent standing on street corners and giving candy to passing children. Candy that tasted terrible.

The crush had been going on for nearly a year. Tatsuki just needed to give her a firm nudge towards Ishida.

Just as she opened her mouth to mention it, Orihime leaned forward with the most determined of expressions. "We need your help, Tatsuki-chan! The survival of the theater department depends on it!"

"Me? Why me? What's going on?"

Orihime held up the bag, showing a white wig and suit inside of it. "We need someone to dress as Colonel Sanders and walk around to promote KFC."

Tatsuki smiled. "Absolutely not."

Orihime gasped. "B-but Tatsuki-chan, you're the only one who can! You've got the right build, and you're not too short, and-"

"Why can't someone else do it? You have an entire group of people who can act-"

"Miyuki-san was the only one who would, but he got beat up last night- ironically, as he was going to KFC. Just attacked by some crazy people!"

Tatsuki considered what she knew of KFC, and the types of people who went to Karakura University, and found it made sense.

"What a world we live in," she muttered. "I dunno… This is a lot, Orihime." Tatsuki peered into the plastic bag and winced.

"Please, Tatsuki-chan! We never get funding- and no one will know it's you. We'll use our stage makeup skills for that, I promise!"

Tatsuki considered. "No one will recognize me?"

"Not a soul," Orihime said, the way one did while swearing on their very life.

"Huh," Tatsuki tapped a foot idly. "You really need my help on this?"

"More than ever," Orihime nodded. "You just need to walk around and wave, just for a little bit!"

"I'll wear it on one condition. If I wear this and walk around campus, you have to promise me something."

"Of course!"

"You need to tell Ishida how you feel about him," she said plainly, gently. "It's been a long time, Orihime. He'll never know unless you say something. Tell him within a month- that way you have time to get ready, okay?"

Orihime bit her lip, staring at the ground for a long moment. Then she forced herself to nod. "Okay."

Tatsuki smiled. "See? That's not so hard- It'll be just like how you talked to him today."

"Y-Yes! You're the best, Tatsuki-chan!" Orihime rushed forward in a hug, swinging the costume bag noisly with the movement.

"Yes, yes, I know, I know…"

They parted, Orihime's fierce determination back in full. "Now, let's get you to makeup!"


There was a time in every person's life when they experienced the utmost regret. Sometimes it was from something significant, like saying the wrong thing to a family member before leaving to fight in a war, or misplacing a pair of scissors when performing surgery. Other times, it was something smaller and unexpected, but still predictable. The times when one's instincts warned of possible consequences to the choice that was about to be made. Listening to this instinct could save someone from eating questionable food left in the refrigerator for too long. Or, it could keep children from provoking a hive of bees.

It also could have saved Tatsuki from the experience of playing Colonel Sanders on campus.

"You look great!" Orihime beamed. She practically shoved Tatsuki out the door out into the central grounds, a large grassy field crisscrossed with sidewalks and trees. Students milled about no matter what the direction. It was the heart of campus.

Tatsuki took a deep breath. She reminded herself that no one could recognize her like that, and set off to walk down the pathway. It was easy enough- all she had to do was walk around, wave a bit, maybe smile. Her acting skills were limited. But she just needed to fulfill the contract, and the school would get funding. And Orihime would finally tell Ishida how she felt, which Tatsuki felt pretty sure was reciprocated.

'The things I do for friendship,' she thought wryly.


It went as well as could be expected, all things considered.

She strode around with the most casual of walks, one which bordered on disinterested. A wave here, a slight smile there. People all took photos like she was a movie star.

It would have been a simple job. Unfortunately, it wasn't long before she stumbled upon someone crumpling up an empty cup and throwing it on the grass.

"Hey!" she yelled.

A lanky man stopped and turned, jerking backwards at the sight. "C-Colonel Sanders?!"

She marched forward, making no attempt at disguising her feminine voice. "What's wrong with you?!" She grabbed the empty cup and shoved it in his face. "There's a trash can right over there, and you're too lazy to take five steps to use it?!"

"Well, I-"

"How hard is it to walk five steps? There are rules, and they have to be followed for a reason!" She leaned into the man's personal space. He leaned backward in fear.

Then, he ran away.

"Yeah, I thought so," Tatsuki said, shaking the dirt from her white gloves.

Before she could resume her consumerist-driven stroll, Orihime was rushing her back indoors.


She didn't notice the man on the other side of the clearing, the one with bright red hair set against brazen tattoos across his body.

He was frozen. The events happened in slow motion, the entire world standing still. The heavens opened up with shimmering rays of light while he watched Colonel Sanders confront someone for littering. The voice was feminine, but with power and authority.

Renji's eyes were the size of saucers. His breath caught in his throat.

It was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen in his life.

It was also weird.

He jolted himself awake, dimly aware he was running towards her. But just like that, she was gone, ushered away by a flash of long orange hair into a nearby building. He took a step forward, hearing something crack underfoot. Lifting his heel, he revealed a small pin mushed into the dirt-