Hope you have a pleasant day, dear Somebody.
Enjoy!
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Auburn Strands and Red Threads #8
She . . . didn't respond.
She just stood there, and there was nothing to indicate what to do next, so he waited. He breathed, focusing on keeping his nerves under control, and stared back at her.
That's all they've been doing for the past minute or so, and he found he could deal with that. There was just something about her eyes that made this okay. They were more round than any other girl he met; the rest had a certain all-knowing gleam while her eyes just provided comfort.
Even when they were wide, unbelievably so, they offered comfort.
"Oh!" She jumped, turning back to the door. "Please, come in."
And that's when his nerves started to act up. She used something from her pocket to poke at the door, and he let his mind run rampant.
This was it.
This was really going to happen. Was he ready? He could leave right now and never turn back . . . but what if he wanted to come back? That is, of course, he would have to come back and get the shard, but what would she think of him then?
Dammit . . .
Why did he come? If he knew what this all meant, then why had he come? It's not like he needed her affection. And then that line of thinking was a mistake because he just realized SHE FELT SOMETHING FOR HIM?!
She finally got the door open and clumsily picked up the whatever somethings that were being covered. He caught a whiff of those, and it made his stomach knot.
He was hungry. When was the last time he had eaten?
He stepped off the rail. He didn't know if this was right . . . but he was already here.
When they were inside, he looked around. It was all he could do to not crumble at the scent that surrounded him, her scent. It got better the more he was around it, but he didn't want that to happen. He didn't want her to have this effect on him because he was already . . .
"Um," she said, standing in the doorway of a room filled with a lot of equipment he wasn't familiar with. "You can . . . sit there while I . . . get the food ready." She pointed to a table that was in the middle of the room. He said nothing, just sat at one end with his arms and legs crossed.
What the actual hell was he doing? Why was he here when he knew what this all meant? This all meant . . . that she felt something for him. There was no other way to think about it. He shook slightly. Did she know that he knew?
Did he know how she was feeling?
She was unbelievably, undeniably nervous.
Her emotions were all over the place. She invited him, yes, but that was days ago. She hadn't meant it. Well, she did mean it, in a way, but she said it only because she thought he would refuse. She wanted to thank him, and inviting him to dinner was the first thing that flew to the front of her mind.
Now . . . he was here.
And Rangiku wouldn't be back for a while, so there was no hope that this would end early.
Why did he come?
She stood in the kitchen, pretending to move the containers of food around with a purpose. She wanted to glance behind her, to see if he saw her stalling, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. He was just so . . . quiet today. If he yelled at her or insulted her then maybe she could feel . . . normal.
But he just sat there.
Quiet.
Possibly . . . watching her.
Orihime sighed, unable to keep it steady. She gathered the covered containers, along with two utensils for good measure, and walked back into the living room. To her comfort, he was looking at the ceiling when she walked in, but now his gaze was upon her, inspecting her. She wondered if he was wondering why she walked into the kitchen with the very same objects she was placing before him. Steadily, she placed the last of the containers on the table and looked at him. At the same moment, he looked at her, gold and silver aligning. She shut down, her body immediately plopping down across from him.
"Um . . ." She looked at the table, food still covered. "A roast." She looked up, greeted by his confused stare and continued, "With some vegetables and there's cake . . . Well, cake . . . It's a cake, but it looks more like pudding when you put your spoon into it. And it looks like dirt, but it really isn't." She moved her head to the side. "Well, it is called Dirt Cake, but-"
"What," he said, slowly, "are you talking about?"
Her cheeks tinted, fingers pulling at each other. "I have no idea," she mumbled. "I'm a little . . . flustered."
His confusion increased.
"Let's eat," she offered. She began to untie the cloths and revealed their contents. Inuyasha watched in silence, not moving from his spot.
It was quiet—awkward—tense as she set the food out for them. She was shaking, she knew he saw, and all she could do to not fully crumble was tell herself that this was a one-time thing. After tonight, she wouldn't see him anymore. She just didn't know if that would be by choice or not.
He thought he understood, but now he wasn't so sure.
She invited him because she liked him, and he came because . . . well . . . just because. It would be rude not to. But if she liked him, why had she barely looked at him since he got here? Why was she shaking so bad? Why was he so hungry? Nothing was coming together.
When she sat back down, he kept his eyes on her. She was in the clothes she wore when they first met—and maybe he liked her other clothes better—and she was staring at her lap. Was she acting like this because she liked him? She wasn't like this all the other times, so maybe she knew he knew? Which . . . would be impossible because he only found that out today.
"What's your name again?"
She jumped, looking at him as though she was surprised someone was there. "It's . . . Orihime."
He looked away briefly, making it an effort to commit the name to his memory this time. "Hime . . . Orihime."
She nodded, shoulders raised. "Th-that's right."
He was going to say something—anything—but he was keenly alert to the meal in front of him. He stared at the table, taking in all the food and the brown stuff in the bowl that also made his stomach twist with hunger pains. She handed him an object that looked . . . weird.
"What's this?" he asked, taking it from her and turning it over in his hands.
"A . . . fork."
"Fork . . ." It was hard and one end poked him when he touched it. It kind of looked like a tool villagers used for harvesting and running him out of places.
"Yes . . . And this is a spoon." She handed him another object. It looked like a shovel only it was too small and probably couldn't dig up anything.
"What are they for?" He hit them together. They made a tink sound, and it was . . . weird. But he did it again and again.
She didn't know what she was looking at.
Well, no, it was Inuyasha hitting a fork and spoon together, but she had no idea why he didn't know what they were. Then again . . . he's a Soul Reaper. A new Soul Reaper-
Wait, no.
No, he wasn't that at all. He was . . . She had no idea what he was, but he should know what a fork and spoon were.
He looked at her, waiting for her to answer.
"Eat!" she blurted, not meaning to yell. She reddened and brought her hands to her cheeks. "You eat food with them."
"What?" He frowned at the objects in his hands. "No, you don't. You eat food with two sticks."
She lightly squeezed her cheeks together. "Chopsticks? Do you want those instead?"
"No." He was distracted now. He held the fork and spoon in each fist, resembling a child using utensils for the first time.
"You only need one," she said, amused by his behavior.
"Which one?"
"Either one."
"But which one's the right one?"
"There . . . isn't a right one, per se. They both help you eat."
"Why can't I use both?"
She couldn't help but giggle. "Well, you can try, but it'll make it difficult for you. Here." She scooted over to him and gently took the spoon. "You hold it like this and," she scooped the corn, "then you eat it." And she did.
Inuyasha watched intently. It looked a lot easier than the sticks, but it was weird.
She was weird.
He imitated holding the object as best he could, though it felt out of place in his hand, and sunk it into the bowl she had.
"See, you got it," she encouraged.
He peeked at her, wanting more praise to see if he was still doing it right, and brought the food to his mouth. It was . . . good, whatever it was. Kind of sweet, but good.
She clapped. "You did it!"
He snorted. "It wasn't that hard." Though, he'd prefer chopsticks because that's what he's used to.
"Do you want to try this?" She pulled a square bowl that had a chunk of meat with the first half cut into slices.
Unconsciously, he sniffed the air. "What is it?"
"A roast."
"What's a roast?"
"Well . . . it's meat that is . . . roasted . . . Um . . . It's good." She set her tool down, picked up a slice, and took a bite out of it. "Mm!" She grinned. "Good!"
He stared at her, wondering if she was lying. He didn't know why she would be, but these foods were a complete mystery. Nevertheless, he took a slice as well, held it in front of him for a moment, and took a bite. He chewed, paused, then looked back at the slice.
"Is . . . i-is something wrong?" she asked.
"It's . . . really good."
That surprised her. What he said didn't surprise her—though she was pleased—but how his words affected her surprised her. Her cheeks felt hot, and she was overcome with both embarrassment and happiness. She felt the same way when Kisuke praised her cooking, but this was a considerably different feeling.
"Um," she pushed hair behind her ear, "I'm glad you like it. Please, eat as much as you want."
For the next half hour, they talked. Most of it consisted of Inuyasha asking what something was, to which Orihime would explain; however, that would cause him to ask what something in her explanation meant. She was fairly surprised by what he asked; it was like he hadn't seen the world before.
"How come you don't know this stuff?" she finally asked. "Don't you . . . Aren't these things in . . . wherever it is you're from?"
He shook his head, poking his fork at the Dirt Cake. "None of this stuff is around in the Feudal Era. No one's made it yet or something." He took a sample of the cake and tasted it, surprising himself by how much he liked it.
"The Feudal Era?" Orihime repeated, the time period not being the first place to come to mind. "Where's that?"
"In Kagome's well," he said, mouth full. "Or a long time before now. Somethin' like that."
"Oh . . . Okay." She didn't get it. Where he's from, people probably had a completely different lingo. "Does this mean you're not from the Soul Society?"
"The what?" He looked at her as he ate. "What's that?"
Orihime noted that he looked like a kid who had tried sweets for the first time and had no intentions of stopping now. "Well . . . Where the Soul Reapers live. Are you a Soul Reaper?"
"No," he said, still trying to process this, "I'm a demon."
She scrunched her brows. "A . . . demon?"
"Well, a half demon." He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."
"I don't think I understand . . . What are you exactly?"
"Half-demon." He eyed the bowl. It was almost half gone. "What aren't you getting about this? You're a human, and I'm a demon."
"But . . . you look nothing like a demon."
He sighed, not really liking how he had to keep admitting his lacking genetics. "Half demon. My mom was a human, and my dad was a demon."
She felt like she was over-thinking this, but in its simplest form, he still didn't make sense. He claimed to be a demon, but demons were big and weird looking. He was normal size with fuzzy ears.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
Orihime focused on him again, noticing that he stopped eating and was hitting his fork on the inside of the bowl. Did he get a stomach ache? He eats as much as Kisuke. "Okay."
"Why did you invite me back?"
She tensed. A part of her had hoped they'd go the whole time without that being brought up. "Ah . . . Well, because I wanted to thank you."
"Thank me?"
"Yes. You brought back my clips even though you need them. I'm sorry that your crystal did whatever it is it did, and I promise to give it back as soon as I figure how to get it out."
"You don't want it?"
"The crystal?" His eyes told her that he was serious, but she didn't know why. She had told him she didn't want it before. "No, no it's not mine. It's yours."
"You mean . . . ? Wait," he set the bowl on the table and faced her, "you really don't want the jewel shard?"
"N-no . . . I don't really collect things, honestly."
What the hell was going on?
She never wanted the jewel shard to begin with? But . . . she took it and . . . And now she doesn't even want it? Then she says the only reason it's still in her possession is because she doesn't know how to get it out? If that's true, if that's been the case all along, then what was the point in drawing things out for this long? Why did they meet? What was the point for feeling . . . for feeling . . .
What, exactly? What was he trying to say?
He looked to her, a bit startled, when he heard her giggle. It was a sweet sound, a sound that made something in him constrict. "What're you laughin' at?"
"Sorry, that was rude of me. It's just," she stifled another giggle, "you're eating with this spaced out look on your face."
Inuyasha looked to the side, his bowl was nearly empty. Damn this cake, as she called it. His hand was holding the thing she called a fork and was hovering over the bowl. Damn Cake, it should be called. "Huh."
Surprisingly, something about that lifted all tension between them. They talked and laughed with each other for another hour. There were a lot of things that she said that he didn't get and vis versa, but that only caused more amusement for the two. It was hard to believe that he was the same boy who she had almost feared not too long ago. Orihime glanced at the time.
"Oh!" she gasped.
He looked where she was looking, but didn't know what to lay his eyes on.
"It's really late. I have school tomorrow, and I haven't done any of my homework yet."
"School? You do that, too?"
"Yes. Do you have school?"
He shook his head, "Kagome does. She's always going."
"Who is Kagome? You've mention her before."
He thought about that.
He didn't know why, but he had to think about this one. Who was Kagome to him, and how did he want Orihime to view her? There was nothing he had to hide because there was nothing going on between him and Orihime . . . But was there something going on between him and Kagome? True, they had moments that made him feel things, but why didn't he want Orihime to know that? Why didn't he want her to get the wrong idea?
What exactly was he considering to be the 'wrong idea' and when did those ideas become wrong?
Again, he supposed he knew the answer to that, too.
"She's a friend," he said.
And so, the dinner ended. Orihime and Inuyasha stood and walked to the door. She really enjoyed his company. He didn't seem to be mad at her anymore either.
She opened the door. "I'm glad you kept me company. It's not every day someone comes to my place for dinner."
"Don't you eat with your family?"
"Uh . . . Not . . . really, no. Um, I live by myself. B-but lately I've been eating with a friend, and it's really not that bad!" She rubbed the side of her head, smiling. "It's kind of fun."
Inuyasha glanced at the ground then back at her. "Do you . . . ever get lonely?"
"Well, sometimes, but not a lot. I'm fine."
"Well . . . thanks for the food."
"Anytime!"
Inuyasha walked out the door, but he stopped. He'd appear as though he were going to take another step, but then he'd rock back on his heels. Finally, he turned around; he looked defensive. "Orihime," he said, determined.
"Yes?"
"Do you . . . I mean tomorrow . . . Not that I'm doin' this for my sake or anythin', but . . . I could eat with you again."
She gasped silently, gripping the door frame. "Oh . . . Um." She blinked a few times. "I would love if you came back, but . . . I . . . I don't know if I'd be here."
"Oh . . ."
She noticed how his ears drooped. She suddenly felt bad. He must have gotten the wrong idea.
"I didn't mean that as in I don't want you! It's . . . I think . . ." She sighed, smiling softly, trying to keep her eyes bright. "I'm in big trouble, and I think I'm going to get taken away soon."
His ears perked up, frowning a bit but he always seemed to be frowning. "What kind of trouble?"
She bit her bottom lip. "Um . . . In the Soul Society, it's a bad thing if you take back the soul of someone who died. When I . . . That night when I hurt you, I had to get your soul back to save you." She laughed, no humor behind it. "And now I'm in trouble."
"Wha?! If it was a bad thing to do then why'd ya do it?"
She shrugged slightly. "I didn't know it was bad, but even if I did . . . I might have done it anyway."
"Why? You didn't even know me."
"That . . . is something I don't have an answer for. Sorry."
He stood there, staring at her. She didn't know what it meant, it scared her a little. Was he mad at her? If so, why?
"Are you leaving tomorrow?" he asked.
"I . . . don't know."
Silence for a moment.
"I'm coming back," he said, bowing his eyes from her view.
"But . . . But I told you-"
"I'm comin' back!" He turned and jumped over the rail. She ran to it, leaning over to see him leap onto the roofs and away from her.
"But I already told you . . ."
"Heeeeey! Orihime! Whaddya doin' up?"
She looked over to see a lively Rangiku stepping onto her floor. "Rangiku," she was surprised by the dazed look in her eyes, "you're home early."
"Ha! Thass because ev'ryone's a bunch of light weights! Can't-" she hiccupped, "-can't hold their liquor fer nothin'!"
Orihime cracked a smile, walking the rest of the distance so she could help her friend make it into the apartment. "Sorry to hear that."
"Nah, nah, it's finnnne! Say! Say! How'ds yer dinner go?"
"It . . . it was something."