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Auburn Strands and Red Threads #5

Tatsuki Arisawa was an information hoarder, and she preferred to be silent about it.

She had no real reason behind it other than the fact that she had always been this way, and it was only to her advantage to continue as such. Ironically, the things she kept to herself never seemed to be about herself, but about those around her.

For example, she knew that Mizuiro Kojima was not the kindhearted boy everyone took him for. It was all an act, and she also knew that this act meant no harm to anyone, which is why she honestly didn't care to notice. However, that boy had problems she was not eager to get herself involved with.

She also knew that Keigo Asano was not as deathly annoying as he made himself out to be, but he was too oblivious to the mannerisms of his friends for her to feel comfortable around him. In truth, she felt bad that he was living with a childlike ignorance.

Then there was Rukia Kuchiki . . . If Tatsuki had to be honest, she didn't know much about Rukia, so the judgments she placed on the fairly new student were a bit clouded. Tatsuki didn't usually dislike a person on the behalf of others, but she couldn't help feeling that Rukia's presence was getting in the way of Orihime's happiness with Ichigo; however, she was also waiting for the day Orihime opens her eyes and realize she can do so much better than that oblivious idiot.

Tatsuki also didn't hate Rukia; she was just a bit bothered by how much time Rukia spent with Ichigo when she was supposed to be a new student. Ichigo wasn't the 'Welcoming Party' type, so how had she managed to get so close to him? Not only that, how was she able to bring out the expressive person he turned in to after her arrival? Rukia and Ichigo were hiding something, and it didn't feel like a secret relationship.

It was because of Tatsuki's hidden knowledge that caused her to be so concerned this morning. She knew Ritsko Mikikani had a habit of stalking Orihime around the school—whether or not there was any underlying meaning to this, Tatsuki did not yet know, since a pretty girl like Orihime always had people who wanted to look at her and never actually approach—so this is where the worry began.

Like Ichigo and Rukia, Orihime was hiding things, too.

Those three all had a weird feel about them—some kind of power. There was an incident not too far back where the three of them, plus Chad and Uryuu, were absent from school for quite some time, and when they came back, they were . . . different. It was like they all skipped school to go on some resort to get to know each other.

It was very puzzling—it bugged the hell out of Tatsuki—but she did not inquire too much about it.

She always put the thought out of her mind, but last night she felt a surge of that chilling energy come from Orihime's part of town, only it felt different. Tatsuki had no way to prove what she felt was real, but it came and went twice.

Tatsuki expected the worst when she went looking for her friend after Ritsuko informed her Orihime was walking in a daze around unattended parts of the school, and the fact that Tatsuki had found Orihime in one piece relieved her to the point of anger. She didn't wish for something bad to happen to her friend, but she would have felt justified with her crazy notions if something did.

But then . . . Orihime collapsed.

"Orihime?" Tatsuki approached her fallen friend, kneeling. She stared at her pale face. She strained to see if any color was there, but her emotions were starting to mess with her eyes because Orihime was getting whiter the harder she focused. "Orihime!"

She began to panic, and she didn't know why.

She began to blame so many people, and she had no idea why.

Tatsuki couldn't move, but everything inside her was in so much chaos that she could feel the seams of her very being about to break, and there was nothing she could do but wait for it to happen.

"Tatsuki?"

She turned, eyes brimming with tears.

o0o0o

Orihime emerged from the darkness that took her, but she remained lying with her eyes closed.

She needed that.

Passing out, she needed that.

Not only was she able to rest, but she was unable to think, which, it seemed, was all she needed. Now, things were coming together for her. Last night, she killed someone, yes, but it was an accident. It was far from a justification, but it was the truth. It was a blessing that she was able to restore life back to him, and, regardless of what was happening, she had to believe he would wake up. In fact, she knew he would. She's seen his fighting spirit more than once, and there was no way he wasn't going to recover from this.

She wanted to laugh at that. She had so much confidence in this stranger.

"I don't even know his name," she mumbled.

"Orihime?"

Orihime's eyes flashed open. She was in a well-lit room, and there was a curved railing on the ceiling just below her field of vision. She sat up, aware that she was on a cushioned surface, and turned her head to find Tatsuki sitting beside her on a blue chair the resembled a cup.

"Oh, hi," Orihime greeted, confused. She quickly scanned the room and immediately felt guilty.

She was in the infirmary.

Of course she was.

She had fainted right in front of her friend when the only thing wrong with her was the fact that she had gotten no sleep and had put her mind under a great deal of stress all night.

"Are you kidding?" Tatsuki sighed, putting her face in her hands. "You're going to keep giving me these blank looks like nothing is wrong?"

"U-um," Orihime's hands went into motion, waving lamely in the air, "I-I know this looks bad, but it's really not as big as it seems. I just-"

"Just what, Orihime?!" Tatsuki exploded, shooting up, hands slamming down to her sides. "First you come to school and wander off by yourself, and then you pass out! Do you have any idea how pale you were?! Do you have any idea what I was thinking?! When you suddenly lose touch with reality, what am I supposed to think, huh?! Don't you dare wake up and try to lie to me and say everything is okay when it's not!"

Orihime was silent, lips pressed together. Tatsuki had never been this worked up before—at least not in front of her and definitely not at her.

"I . . . I'm sorry," she whispered honestly. "I didn't mean to worry you."

Tatsuki wasn't satisfied. She wanted to say more—really wanted to keep yelling at her friend and tell her how tired she herself was of not only Orihime's, but Ichigo's secrets as well; however, this wasn't the time or place. If Tatsuki kept on like this, she wouldn't make any sense all because of her paranoia. She wasn't used to seeing Orihime so tired or stressed, but, she supposed, these things happen. If this were anyone else, she wouldn't feel the need to yell at them.

She cursed herself silently, running a hand through her hair. "Don't apologize," she muttered as she sat down. "It's not your fault."

"But . . . you said-"

"Forget that, Orihime. I'm just worried." She sighed again then looked at her friend with an apologetic smile. "Are you okay?"

Orihime smiled, embarrassed, and rubbed the back of her head. "Yes, very okay, thank you. I was busy after I went home and didn't get much sleep. I guess I'm not use to that."

"What exactly did you do yesterday? You were in such a hurry to get home, it was like you were on a time limit." Tatsuki stopped to think. "You and Ichigo didn't, uh . . ." She made a small gesture with her hand, telling Orihime to fill in the blanks.

"Eh?" Orihime leaned away from her, blushing. "You mean me and Kurosaki-kun going off together? Wh-why would you think that?"

Tatsuki brought her hands up, defending her statement. "He left pretty early, too, and I didn't see him leave with anyone. After a while, I kinda started to think that the two of you snuck off toge-"

"Wrong!" Orihime blurted, face completely red. "Th-that could never happen! Besides! I was cooking dinner for a friend!"

Tatsuki, who was almost mad with worry just moments ago, who had forced herself to not completely explode, now forced the best poker face she could muster. This would usually not be hard to do, but Orihime just claimed she cooked dinner for a friend.

She cooked dinner for a friend.

Nothing about that made sense and was so obviously a cover up for something else that Tatsuki didn't know if she herself was about to burst out laughing or show disdain towards the ridiculous lie. Then again, Orihime didn't find her particular tastes in food as odd as everyone else, so maybe she thought she was coming up with a valid excuse.

Why not humor her?

"A friend, huh?" Tatsuki ran a hand along her face to calm the muscles. "What friend?"

"His name is Kisuke. Kisuke Urahara."

At this, Tatsuki had to bite her lip to keep any slip of emotion from breaking her resolve. She knew that guy Urahara owns that weirdo shop. She's seen Ichigo go there on occasions (another secret of hers). Sure, she herself knew close to nothing about the guy, but there was no way Orihime knew him like that, and there was no way she would be cooking for him.

"Kisuke Urahara, huh? What made you want to cook for him?"

Orihime grinned. "Actually, he asked me to! He said he likes my tastes! Ah . . ." Orihime's smile fell, hand coming to her cheek as she thought. "Though, now that I think of it, I don't remember him trying anything I've made before . . ."

"Uh huh . . ." Tatsuki nodded slowly. "Alright. How'd it go?"

"Really well. I'm going again tonight. I, uh, I just need to focus on other things before then."

Tatsuki's interest piqued. "Like what?"

"Oh, you know. School . . . and stuff." Orihime looked around the room again. "Did you carry me all the way here?"

Tatsuki laughed. "Funny you should ask that—I've been waiting to tell you."

"You mean . . . you didn't?" Orihime pulled on her sleeves and looked around more intently, as if the answer was hidden somewhere. "Um, then was it . . ." Orihime turned towards the doorway right as bright orange hair caught her attention. "K-Kurosaki-kun."

"Hey, Orihime," he greeted, walking into the room. "How're you feeling?"

"Eh, um," she averted her gaze to her lap, suddenly aware of her appearance, "f-fine. I'm not hurt or anything."

"That's good to hear." He stopped near the bed. "You won't believe how bad you freaked Tatsuki out."

"Did she ask?" Tatsuki snapped. "I was just about to tell her how you carried her all the way here."

Orihime's head snapped up, staring at her tomboy of a friend.

"Oh," Ichigo said, not fazed like the girl on bed. "Yeah, I did that."

Orihime turned to him, wide eyed. "Y-you carried me all the way from the other side of the building?"

He quirked a brow. "Yeah? Does that bother you?"

"No, I just . . . never thought you'd be that far from the main building." Her eyes widened, face burning uncomfortably. "So far . . . from the main building . . . You carried me such a long way . . . and in front of so many people."

"No one was really around. Besides, it wasn't that far."

"You're kidding, right?" Tatsuki scoffed.

"It's not that far for me, then," Ichigo amended. "And if you're worried about people seeing you, don't be. We only passed by that kid in charge of the closet. Ritsuko, I think."

Orihime fiddled with her fingers. "W-wasn't I heavy?"

"Nah, you were a lot lighter than I thought you would be. Compared to Rukia, everyone is kinda-"

A first aid kit went hurdling across the room, hitting Ichigo in the face. He yelled, mostly in surprise, and stumbled backwards.

"K-Kurosaki-kun!"

He held his face for a moment, hunched over, then straightened himself. He glared past Orihime to the girl next to her, who was staring at him with no interest whatsoever. "What the hell was that for?!"

"What?" Tatsuki raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes you say stupid things, and sometimes you get hurt. Why is that so shocking?"

"What'd I even say?!"

"I can't remember. It was so incredibly stupid that I must have blocked it out."

A full blown argument ensued, and Orihime listened to the back and forth, feeling pleased with life. Seeing her friends so lively like this made her get a strong grip on herself, which she really needed.

The sense of everything crumbling and no one around to witness it frightened her, and now, she felt her reaction wasn't the best or even normal, and she also wasn't sure if this calm peace of mind was any better. If she thought too hard, she wasn't sure about much, at the moment.

"I wonder if he's awake yet," she mumbled vaguely, her voice drowned out by her friends and her thoughts.

Inuyasha had been staring at the ceiling for the past half hour trying to figure out what the hell was going on with his life.

Nothing was making sense to him anymore, and, it was not because it was all in his head; things were genuinely wrong with whatever forces that influenced his life. Because of the way things were turning out and the way things had always gone for him, he believed his life was meant to go wrong. He was mistreated by people he didn't know as a child, hated even more by everyone including demons growing up, loved a woman who didn't return his feelings, and now all of . . . this.

Everything in his life was messed up.

With that being said, he didn't know if he really had a psychotic break or if he was waiting for it to happen. He knew where he was, knew it very well, but had a hard time figuring out how that happened. His chest had been penetrated before (and his stomach even more), but somehow, he's never been injured fatally.

This is why he knew, very well, that he was killed—heart obliterated.

Actually, after being with Kagome for so long, he knew he didn't know the things she did (primarily because her kind of things haven't been made up in his time), but even though some things weren't there or looked into yet didn't mean they weren't still true for him. This was a good example: People need hearts to live. If a person didn't have a heart then they're dead. He lost his heart; therefore, he should be dead, so why wasn't he? Or, rather, why wasn't he dead anymore? He thought he had been reanimated even, but he wouldn't have a heartbeat, would he?

That was the other thing he was trying to evade in his mind. There was a fact about his current state that was telling him that all his earlier thoughts were invalid simply because this specific piece of evidence was missing: There should be a hole in his chest—a hole so painful and sickening that his breathing would be a missed pastime—but he felt nothing.

No pain.

No gaping emptiness.

Nothing to indicate that he had been fatally wounded.

He had not inspected himself to confirm this, but a pain like that wasn't something that would go away without a trace, which led him to believe that one of two things happened. He either 1) was out of it so long that his wound healed completely, and he was now in a time where the people he knew would no longer recognize him or be alive (which was dumb because his fucking heart was blasted) or 2) she did it again.

That witch healed him again—bested him again—won again.

This was the more reasonable answer because he knew he was in the place she lived—her scent was everywhere.

So, with that last thought, it summed up why he's just been lying here like an idiot. He was confused about why he was alive, and he was trapped by her smell.

God, was he trapped.

He would have been out of this damned place as soon as he woke up if it weren't for this scent. It was more sweet than any flower, but definitely wasn't a fruit. Subtle like a peach, but he still kept thinking of apples. Why did girls smell like apples? Well, Sango didn't smell like apples (more like rain), but he never really took notice. His mother smelled like a Spring night, but she didn't count as a girl. His first love also didn't smell like apples, her scent was unique, so it was something about girls from this time.

"They smell like apples," he muttered to himself. Inuyasha forced himself off the bed and rolled onto his feet. He felt fine, but he stood there for a minute.

He had to go.

That witch lived here, and he had his fill of her. She was stronger than he thought, and he couldn't win against her, he had to admit that to himself. If he kept allowing his pride to get the best of him, then he would really get himself killed and, hopefully, stay dead next time.

He looked around, noting this room was almost like Kagome's but bigger and not as bright, and set his eyes on the window next to the bed. He walked over to see if it would open.

It did.

He sighed, relieved, and gave the room one more quick look around. It was a shame he couldn't get the shard while that witch was out . . . but . . . but . . .

Huh.

He looked at a table with junk on it for no particular reason, and his eyes happened to land upon two flower shaped objects with silver sticks jutting out of them. One flower was blue and the other was blue with pink lines. Why this immediately struck him as odd, he didn't know. He didn't understand the habits of girls in this world—he barely understood Kagome—but he looked at these two objects for the longest time.

Especially the one with the eerily familiar color. What . . . was it about this thing?

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"H-here."

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And . . . she pointed to her head, but that could mean there was something wrong with her head—like how she would revive an enemy she killed.

He walked to the desk and picked up both objects, inspecting them closely, hoping this was the break he was looking for. Nevertheless, he dropped them from his view and frowned at the ceiling. He had no idea what he was trying to determine, but he was sure these were what she was pointing at on her head. Well, no, he wasn't all that sure, it was more of a gut feeling than anything, and he's been going against his gut feelings all this time.

With his mind made up, he tucked the two flower objects away and left through the window. He smirked to himself, springing into the air to begin his journey to get far, far away from—

her scent

those eyes

—this room.

Orihime, despite last night's horror and this morning's scare, had managed to have a good day. She received a lot of questions about her appearance—some of the most troubling ones coming from her teachers – and she had managed to convince them all that this was the result of a very off day. Of course, she had let it slipped to one of her teachers that her uniform had gotten stained beyond repair. She was promptly sent to the head of administration to get a new one.

Yes, today turned out to be better than she gave it credit for, and now she could end it on a good note as well. For tonight's dinner, she figured a stew would be best.

In all honesty, she was not eager to go home and face her troubles, but if the boy was still unconscious, it was her duty to make sure that he remained healthy. Then again, if he was awake, that meant one of two things: 1) He was locked inside her apartment with no way out and would soon resort to blasting a wall, or 2) he had already left, and she could take comfort in worrying over nothing.

When she arrived at her door, she had to gather her strength and courage to open it. Once inside, she stood with her back against the door, listening intently. After a few moments of silence, she was convinced he was still here. Orihime set her things down and walked to her room, all the while telling herself this little journey was no different from any other time. She stopped short of her doorway, heart rate slowly increasing. What was she so scared of? She wanted him to be okay, didn't she?

"P-pardon the intrusion," she whispered softly, throat going dry.

Shutting her eyes, she walked into her room and ignored how all the muscles in her body tensed. She felt foolish, and she had no idea what she could accomplish, but she remained this way for the better part of the next thirty seconds. She tried talking herself out of this stance. If the boy had, let's say, stopped breathing, she was delaying precious time in helping him.

Or he could be wide awake but so stunned at her mannerisms that he was speechless.

Both these possibilities, and many others, urged her to open her eyes. She swallowed hard, shoulders coming up as her head ducked down, and parted her eyelids.

To her surprise, her bed was empty. The lingering signs of a body previously being there were prevalent, but that was all. Orihime scanned the room, noticing her opened window, and walked over to it. She stared at it, putting all the facts together, and was overcome by a sense of paralyzing relief.

"He's . . . okay." She smiled. She brought a hand up to her mouth to stifle a few giggles before closing the window and turning around to walk into the kitchen. She had dinner to prepare after all.

It was not until she was half way done chopping vegetables that she realized why she had been afraid to enter her house this whole time. It was not the fear that all the memories from last night would swarm her or that she feared being attacked, but something more . . . complicated than that.

She had actually feared that she would go to check on him and he would be there in her bed. He would be lying there, eyes closed, and look like he was sleeping. She would get close to him, noticing something was wrong merely because her mind would tell her something was terribly, terribly off. Acting on this mindset, she would place her hand on his chest—or, possibly, watch his torso intently, if not checking his pulse—only to find no signs of life.

She shuddered at the thought, shaking her head so she could focus on the vegetables that needed to be cut. If she had to be honest with herself, she was a bit disappointed she was not able to see him off. This was not something she fully understood and resigned herself to being grateful that he was alive.

o0o0o

The sun was beginning to set by the time she got the stew into a big enough container. All that was left was to change her clothes. Her embarrassment over going to Kisuke's house still in her school uniform had not hit her until this afternoon. This new self-awareness only found its way into her brain a few weeks back when Tatsuki told her some guys had perverted fantasies. She had told her that seeing a girl in a school uniform gave men dirty thoughts, and she should not go out in hers unless it was for school. She didn't think Kisuke was that type of man, but he may perceive her coming to his house, at night, in her uniform as forward behavior.

Orihime walked into her room and looked through her closet. She twisted her auburn locks as she scanned her clothes with a distracted mind. At this rate, she might be late, and if she had to be technical, she wasn't in her school uniform—not one that Tatsuki would disapprove of.

"I can just fix my hair," she said out loud.

She turned to her desk but frowned when the two things she was looking for weren't where she expected them to be. She bit her lip, rummaging through her desk then resorted to getting on all fours to search around it.

o0o0o

Kisuke Urahara was a man of mystery, but when it came right down to it, he was just like most people.

On nights like these, he could be found in the middle of his living room floor reading a magazine. Also, like some people, he would be unable to tell you what magazine he was reading and why he was reading it. However, unlike most people, on this particular night, he had been one the same page for the past hour.

It was not in Kisuke's nature to be worried; he could handle most anything. So, when eight o'clock rolled around, he could not say he was worried. He was, however, curious as to what could be keeping his guest. The more he wondered, the more he told himself this was only the second day. He could not predict her habits in two days, especially not when he told her she was early the day before. No, the shop owner was not worried. Just a little . . .

"Curious," he huffed to himself, tossing the worthless stapled papers to the other side of the room. He felt a strong blast of power last night, and then there was that puzzling energy. It could have very well been due to Ichigo in some way and have nothing to do with Orihime.

Still . . .

Fifteen more minutes, and there was no sign of his gracious chef anywhere. At this, he was still not worried. It was not in his nature. If anything, he was letting his mind get to him just because he was having a terrible case of déjà vu, but he told himself over and over again this was the present—a completely different time.

Still . . . this was on the border of eerie and downright cruel.

This was exactly how it happened last time. She was running late, and he didn't go looking for her. He knew something was wrong, and he didn't go looking for her. Why he didn't, he couldn't remember—maybe they had a fight or maybe she had lied and said she would be with a few friends. There were too many pasts to remember why he didn't go looking for her in that particular one, but he knew he should have because he could have found her. He didn't, though . . . They found her . . . They . . .

"Dammit," he cursed, getting to his feet. He rushed to the front door, but was shocked when he heard knocking before he could even get to it.

He stood in the hall, letting it sink in.

She's here . . .

That was her at the door . . .

She's okay.

Of course, he told himself, this wasn't going to be like the last time. Cracking a smile, he strolled the rest of the way to the door and opened it.

"Well, hello, Miss. Inoue!" he sang.

"Hello, Kisuke . . ."

He looked at her, wondering where her usual energy had gone.

She was wearing her gym uniform, and she was looking at her feet. She had something big covered in cloth, which he supposed was tonight's dinner, but something was wrong.

o0o0o

Orihime felt terrible for showing up like this. Not only was she late, but she had actually cried in front of Kisuke. He had asked her what was wrong, and she broke down the very next moment.

He invited her in and seated her in front of the table, stepping out to get bowls and spoons, and had waited patiently for her to calm down. She had calmed down, but only because she was embarrassed like never before.

"Are you good?" Kisuke was now on his side, watching her with genuine interest, unable to even force a sympathetic look because he was more curious than he was sorry.

"Ah, y-yes." She wiped her eyes. "Please, forgive me for that."

He waved his hand dismissively. "There's nothing you need to apologize for. Now, tell me, what happened? Surely, it must be something major if it's caused you to cry."

She laughed, feeling awkward. "Actually, it's something . . . not so big." She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "You see, my-"

"Hair clips."

"Huh?"

He pointed to the side of his head. "Your hair clips. You don't have them."

She put her hand down and stared at her lap. There were things she wanted to say, but didn't know how she wanted to start. Instead, she pushed up onto her knees and unwrapped the food. "Can I tell you something?" she asked. "Even if it all sounds . . . crazy?"

"Of course."

She eyed him, filling up his bowl before she did hers. Was this even logical? Could she confide in him after feeling as though they were close after a day? She didn't know.

But that's exactly what she did.

It was surprisingly easy to tell him about everything that happened last night. It must have been because Kisuke listened so attentively and never once showed any sign of judging her. In fact, he was almost accepting with the way he soaked up every word she said and ate diligently. By the time she was done, he alone had eaten half the pot.

"Hm," he said once she was done. "Well, that explains a lot."

"It does?"

"Well, for me, yes. Remember what I said about that crystal being powerful? Seeing how it fused with your hair clip, I think that explains the blast of energy and the changed appearance of your fairy . . . thing."

"But . . . how can you be sure?"

"I can't, unless I analyze it for myself."

"Ah, that's the other thing. See, that boy . . . He left and I . . . Well, I seem to have misplaced my clips, but I-"

"Think he took them?"

She looked to the side desperately, tilting her head while wringing her hands together. "No . . . I don't want to think that. I just . . . He really wanted that crystal, and maybe I would have given it to him if I could, but . . . my brother gave me those when I was little and it's the only thing I have to truly remember that he cared for me and . . . I just . . ."

"Orihime," Kisuke interjected before the first tear fell, "do you believe that boy took them just to spite you?"

She was stumped, truly confused, by his question. "No, it's just-"

They were silenced by a sound coming from the door leading to the courtyard; it sounded like faint scrapping. Kisuke turned his head.

"What a surprise." He grinned. Kisuke excused himself to go answer the door. When he came back, a black cat walked into the room with him. "Yoruichi, it's been a while."

"It hasn't been that long," the deep voice said. The glowing eyes set their sights on Orihime. "And it's nice to see you again."

"Ah! The pleasure is mine, Yoruichi-san!"

"I never got the chance to apologize to all of you for the scare a while back. Letting Renji be the one to retrieve Rukia was a mistake. We never intended for him to lead you guys into thinking we'd kill her."

Orihime reddened. "It was no burden on our part, really."

It definitely was a scare, though. Rukia was taken back to the Soul Society because of the powers she lent Ichigo. She, Ichigo, Chad, and Uryuu went after her and fought many Soul Reapers (well, Ichigo handled most of them) only to discover Rukia being lectured by her older brother Byakuya.

"And you, Kisuke." Yoruichi turned to him. "Sending those kids after her without consulting me first. That was a foolish thing to do."

He grinned wider. "I had some new equipment I wanted to test out, but that's in the past now. What brings you to my home at such a lovely time of night? Did you, by any chance, care to join us for dinner? Or is it possible that you were looking for some alone time with me?"

"Very funny, but I'm sorry to say I am here under grim circumstances."

"What do you mean?"

"Hold on one moment."

Yoruichi walked into the hall, out of sight. A moment later, they felt a slight gust of wind and realized she had transformed. The following minutes were believed to be so she could get dressed. When she walked back in, she was in her more appealing form, fully dressed.

"Mind telling us what all this is about?" Kisuke asked.

"I'm sorry, but," she turned to Orihime, "Orihime Inoue, in violation of Soul Society Law, Section 3, I have come to inform you the Captain General is deciding your punishment, which may lead to your immediate arrest."