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Auburn Strands and Red Threads #16

"Nii-san!"

Ichigo looked up to see Yuzu spring into his room. He must have forgotten to close the door. "Hey, Yuzu." He continued searching for his socks.

She stopped, studying him. "You're up early for a weekend. What's up?"

"Nothing, nothing," he said, detached. "I'm seeing Orihime today-"

"What?!" she screeched, face flushed. "N-n-nii-san has a date?!"

Ichigo looked at her, unnerved. "Wait . . . It's not anything like-"

"What is it, Yuzu?!" Isshin Kurosaki burst into the room, half dressed. "I heard you scream!"

Ichigo twitched. "Hey, old man, put some pants o-"

"Ichigo has a date!" Yuzu cried, pointing at the offending teen.

"A date?!" Isshin looked between his son and daughter, shocked. "Is it the Sado kid?"

"It's Orihime!"

Isshin gasped, his face and body freezing in a comically horrendous way. "An . . . an attractive girl?!" He looked at Ichigo, causing the glaring boy to flinch.

"You both need to calm down," Ichigo said, his energy draining. "It's not-"

"Ichigo!" his father bellowed, a stern glare on his features. "This is most unforgivable."

Ichigo briefly looked around. "What?"

"To think . . . my own son . . ." Isshin sprung into the air, lunging at him, "is trying to get a better looking wife than me!"

"KNOCK IT OFF!" Ichigo's fist collided with his father's stomach, sending the man to his knees.

"W-well done," Isshin said in agony, "but my wife . . . will always be better than yours."

A vein in Ichigo's forehead pulsed. "Who said anything about a wife, huh? Now hurry and put some pants on."

"I-I see." Isshin curled into the fetal position. "My son is not looking for a wife. Maybe he's seeing Ishida-"

"Old man!" And suddenly Ichigo was attempting to stomp his father into unconsciousness.

Karin walked into the room after hearing all the noise. She saw a red-faced, teary eyed Yuzu next to the door. Looking over, she saw their dad and Ichigo in their usual morning battle. "What's wrong, Yuzu?"

Her twin turned to her, lips trembling. "I-Ichigo's got a girlfriend."

Orihime usually spent her Saturdays catching up on school work, shopping for groceries, or passing time with her friends.

Female friends.

Her Saturday's rarely had Ichigo in the equation.

If Ichigo was planned to bless her with his presence on any day, it usually had something to do with protecting the town or . . . a group training session or . . . or anything that made sense.

The fact that he had left a note on her door was a sign that this did not make sense.

If he wanted to speak with her, he could have called the next day or just come over. Did he think she had things to do and needed to make sure he caught her? Did he need to catch her for whatever it was they needed to 'talk' about?

She didn't know what time Ichigo wanted to talk, and there was no telling where, so Orihime assumed he wanted her to go over to his house.

The thought mortified her.

She was just going to a friend's house—a friend who happened to be male and who also happened to be her crush—so there was nothing to worry about. Even if she had never met his family in such a setting, it was an innocent encounter. Still, she didn't see this particular friend as any other person. He was special to her and, well, she didn't want to do anything to upset him or his family.

There was no use in worrying because she agreed nothing good ever came from it. Instead, Orihime decided she'd pay Ichigo a visit right now. It was well within the afternoon hours, and she would look mighty suspicious if she went to his house during the evening.

With her mind made up, she left her apartment feeling presentable. It was the time of year when Spring's warmth was gracious enough to warm the daylight hours, but the cool, crisp breeze of the passing Winter wind reminded them of its stay. She settled with wearing a loose fitting long sleeve shirt and a long jean skirt.

She couldn't recall the last time she went to Ichigo's house, if ever. She's passed by it a few times while spending time with Tatsuki, but she never went inside. It was embarrassing she wasn't completely sure whether or not she's been to his house because her mind tended to . . . imagine . . . a lot. She imagined going to his house many times under many different circumstances such as studying for a test or visiting him while he was sick (but he never seemed to catch ill) or eating dinner at his house after meeting his family-

She shook her head fiercely.

She couldn't think things like that when she was about to see him. It would feel incredibly odd to fraternize with imaginary Ichigo and then actually engage with the real Ichigo. He might be able to tell what she was thinking if she let her mind wander.

To distract herself, she decided to think about last night. It was a funny feeling, really. Not even a whole twenty-four hours ago, she was in another time.

In the past.

Feudal Japan, to be exact.

She was in a world where her parents' parents' parents weren't even born. For a few hours, there was no Ichigo, no Tatsuki, no Chad, no Uryuu, no Chizuru, no Kisuke, no anybody. It was just Inuyasha and his friends, yet this fact didn't rattle her.

The time when she was bullied in school was a more shocking reality than time travel because the bullying was a change from life.

Inuyasha . . .

The Soul Society . . .

They both felt normal to her.

Her life now was the life she was made for because everything happened so naturally, and the way things naturally happened were in unexpected ways.

Meeting Tatsuki and befriending her were both unexpected because the feisty girl should have been one of her bullies, but she became one of the most important people in her life.

Finding out the clips her brother gave her were actually powerful was definitely unexpected because, not only had she been able to protect Tatsuki, it only proved her brother was still protecting her. Part of her still wondered if the power came from her brother or was her brother himself.

And then there was Kisuke . . .

She met him unexpectedly during the whole Rukia fiasco, but that was not the odd part. The odd part was how she and Kisuke were now. She had gone to his shop simply to inquire about the crystal (now known as a fragment of the Shikon Jewel), and now he was family to her. It hadn't been long since it all started, but she couldn't imagine living without him. If she lost him now . . . She just didn't know.

She didn't want to know.

Kisuke could have easily not been part of her life at all; if that day didn't happen—if Inuyasha didn't happen—she may have never learned about this kind of love.

She didn't know who to thank more: Inuyasha, Fate, or Ichigo.

She wouldn't have started talking to Kisuke if Inuyasha never appeared and dropped the jewel, but she never would have even met the shopkeeper if it wasn't for Ichigo. Or maybe it was Rukia because they wouldn't have needed to go to his shop if Rukia never got in trouble.

So maybe it was all thanks to Fate.

Ichigo could have easily not gotten his Soul Reaper abilities and (indirectly) caused trouble. It was even easier for Inuyasha to not travel to the present time, and the odds of him meeting her out of everyone he passed from the well to her side of town had to be one in every thousandth lifetime!

Orihime's brows furrowed, her mind suddenly spinning. She decided she didn't like to think about these things. Even though these events already happened, she didn't like to think how easily things could have been different.

She sighed, closing her eyes and tilted her head. Falling for Ichigo was unexpected. The feelings came so naturally to her that, for a time, she didn't even notice she viewed him in such a way. He was just . . . just . . .

She grinned. "Kurosaki-kun is amazing."

"Orihime?" a voice called.

She gasped, looking around, almost falling over with how sudden she stopped. "K-Kurosaki-kun?"

Ichigo was walking her way, wearing a dark jacket she decided suited him well. She ran to meet him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I was coming to see you. Didn't you get my note?"

"I did. That's why I was coming to see you. I . . . I didn't mean to make you wait so long that you got impatient with me." She ducked her head, holding her face, and groaned softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd want to talk so soon."

Ichigo took a moment to let her words settle. "It's not your fault. I thought it was clear I was stopping by."

This only made Orihime feel worse. How could she be so ignorant and not know the meaning of his note? Anyone would know what he meant, right? "I'm sorry," she mumbled in her hands, still not looking at him.

He didn't know what to think. He must have said something bad just now because she appeared to loathe herself more than a few seconds ago. How was he supposed to deal with this? He didn't mean to hurt her feelings—he never hurt her feelings—so how could he make this right?

"Uh . . ." His hand came up to pat her shoulder, but he re-thought his choice and placed it back down. "Are you hungry?"

She slid her face up, looking at him over her fingers.

"Let's go to a bakery or something."

She sprung to life, smiling brightly. "Really?! I know one that's close by!"

Gaily, Orihime led the way as the two casually talked here and there. Ichigo was reluctant to bring up why he requested to see her, seeing how she was finally back to her normal self. Orihime led him to a small family owned establishment with 'Ryo's Goods' displayed in large faded pink and white letters. The inside had checkered floors and more of a cozy cafe aura than an upbeat, bakery vibe.

After the two arrived at the shop and bought what they wanted, they took a seat near the large window facing the street.

"I didn't order too much, did I?" Orihime asked as they settled.

"No, that seems about right." He eyed her two boxes filled with a dozen donuts each. For her, that was about right.

"Do you want some?" She took a glazed donut out of a box and pushed the remainder towards him. "They sell the best sweets here."

"This'll hold me." He took a sip of his coffee and cracked a smile. "Enjoy."

She bounced in her chair, squealing to herself. "Thank you so much, Kurosaki-kun!"

"Ichigo," he muttered as he took a long swig of his coffee.

Kurosaki-kun . . .

She always called him Kurosaki-kun.

He watched her blissfully eat five donuts—marveling at how she could make the act appear graceful—before he decided he shouldn't wait anymore. "Orihime," he said, catching her attention, "I want talk about what happened in the Soul Society."

She stared, setting her half-eaten donut down and swallowing the remainder. "What . . . What about it?"

He stared at his coffee, gripping with both hands. "I want to apologize."

"You're . . . ? For what?"

"For not being able to save you."

She swayed back and forth, head desperately trying to make sense of this. "Save me?"

"I understand you were able to make it back, but I wasn't able to stop that guy."

"Oh . . . Oh! No, Kurosaki-kun, that's okay!"

He looked at her, eyes warring with conflict. "It's okay? How is it okay? You could have been killed."

She shook her head, waving her hands wildly. "No, no, no! You've got it all wrong! I think Kisuke wanted to explain this to you, but that guy-"

"Can we talk about him for a second?"

"Eh?" Her hands dropped to her lap. "Who?"

Ichigo hesitated before grounding out, "Kisuke."

She nodded slowly. Something didn't seem right. His spiritual pressure was weighing her down.

"How . . ." He bit his lip briefly, grimacing at his coffee. "You visit him?"

She nodded. "Every day."

"Why?" It was almost a demand, almost a plea.

"Um . . ." She pulled her hair to one side and nervously began twisting it. "Well, to cook for him-"

"And?"

"A-and?"

"Is that all there is to it?"

"Wha . . ." Her gaze dropped. "W-we talk . . . ?" She looked up at him, meeting his intense gaze. "He's my friend."

Friend? Did he hear that right? She's claiming they're friends? Since when? When did the two start becoming so close and . . . Just why?

"Orihime," Ichigo leaned forward, lowering his voice, "he's not doing anything to you, is he?"

"What do you mean? Kisuke wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

"Then is he doing things to you," he paused, "that . . . don't hurt?"

She leaned away from him, dropping her hands to her lap again. "What are you trying to say?"

"I just want to make sure nothing weird is going on." He sat back in his chair, taking the rational approach. "Young girls . . . shouldn't visit older men by themselves, Orihime. It's dangerous."

"Are you telling me not to see Kisuke anymore?"

"Not . . . exactly. I just-"

"Don't you trust him?"

"I trust you, Orihime. I trust Kisuke, too. I just don't know if-"

"You trust me and Kisuke together?" She shook her head, brows knitted together, eyes incredulous. "You trusted him enough to train you when we thought Rukia was in danger."

"That was different."

"I don't see how this can bother you. I mean . . . it . . . it has nothing to do with you, Kurosaki-kun."

"Maybe not directly, but you're my friend, and I want to make sure you're okay. You don't really know him, yet, you claim you're friends-"

"We are friends."

"You haven't known him long enough to visit him every day."

She shook, offense building rapidly. "You didn't know Rukia that well when you decided to risk your life saving her." Orihime gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth.

Ichigo was shocked, loosely holding his cup as he stared back at her. "What does this have to do with Rukia? You . . . You and Kisuke aren't me and Rukia."

She didn't like that. She didn't like the way he phrased that, and she didn't like what she thought it meant. She and Kisuke didn't have the kind of relationship he and Rukia had. That's because he and Rukia . . .

She bit her bottom lip and stood up.

Ichigo stood, ready to call her name, but she shot him a look; her eyes were gleaming, face turning red.

"Thank you for treating me," she said firmly before turning away and exiting the bakery.

Ichigo stared after her. He didn't fully understand what he did, but he . . . Somehow he made Orihime cry. That one felt bad.

He sat down, staring out the window. The thought of Orihime on the verge of tears because of something he did repeatedly flashed in his head. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. He only wanted to talk to her about what happened a few days ago, but she brought up Kisuke and he didn't like it. He didn't like the thought of her getting close to him. Kisuke was a shady man, and a girl like Orihime shouldn't get tangled up with him without some kind of supervision.

That was all.

He's sure that was all . . .

So, what made her cry? What did Ichigo do that made her cry?

"Shit," he muttered. He bowed his head, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. "Ichigo, what the hell?"

Something was wrong with him, he knew this. Something has been wrong with him, but he didn't want to admit it. It would just complicate things. It was already complicating things, and he couldn't ignore it for much longer . . .

Orihime was—

"Hello, stranger."

Ichigo looked up. "Hey." He sat up straighter. "Kagome, right?"

Orihime walked briskly down the street. She had been walking for a while, and she just couldn't stop.

She didn't want to stop.

Things were spiraling too out of control for one afternoon.

First, she saw Ichigo walking down the street to see her, then he treated her to donuts at her favorite bakery. That, in itself, wasn't completely unusual because he was a nice friend. He probably treated the rest of their friends to food, too, but she had been so happy, and it made her feel special . . .

So, why did it get so out of hand? He must have meant well with his misplaced concerns, but how could he suspect Kisuke of doing anything indecent?

And to her, no less.

It wasn't like Ichigo to jump to conclusions, but he had been so undeniably wrong it offended her. It offended her because he was offending Kisuke's very name. Sure, she hadn't known the shopkeeper for very long, but she knew him better than Ichigo did, so . . . So . . .

. . . Maybe she had been too emotional.

She even allowed some of her insecurities to slip out, and he didn't deserve that. In his eyes, she was supposed to be carefree and happy all the time, so her little display back there was highly inappropriate. She just . . . He just . . .

She sighed. "I don't know."

She ran her hands through her hair, holding her bangs back. She would have to apologize. She just didn't know if she should wait until Monday.

She slid down a hard surface and squatted, hands still in her hair. What would her brother think of her behavior? He raised her to be more kind and more understanding than that. Would he be upset with her or would he smile and tell her the next time would be better?

"Sorry, nii-chan," she mumbled to her lap.

Tatsuki might find it funny, if she didn't blame Ichigo for making her cry.

Chizuru might give her a big hug, but Chizuru always gave her hugs.

Kisuke might laugh and subtly imply she overreacted, but seeing how he never really said anything to upset her, she'd probably laugh along with him.

Uryuu and Chad might not believe it if they heard she raised her voice (and at Ichigo of all people), but she might earn some surprised stares.

Inuyasha might . . .

What would Inuyasha think? Would he care? As far as he knew, he never met Ichigo, so he couldn't feel any way about it. Inuyasha was a guy of impulse and action, so he might find her justified in yelling at Ichigo.

As she mulled these thoughts over, sinking deeper and deeper into her thoughts, she realized she was sinking deeper and deeper into the wall.

Falling, actually.

She yelped, a hand coming flush against her back to steady her. She looked up.

"You're making a habit of not knocking," Kisuke said, looking down at her.

"Oh!" She blinked. "Good afternoon . . . Um, what are you doing here?"

"Well, Orihime, I live here."

She rolled herself onto her feet and looked around. She was at Kisuke's house. She stared in bewilderment at her surroundings, not knowing how or why she had gotten here.

"How long were you out here?" he asked.

"I . . . have no idea. I didn't mean to come here."

He sighed playfully, pulling her inside by her shoulders. "You can't wander aimlessly, you know. That's how people get hurt."

She pouted. "I would not. Besides, if I got lost, I could ask for help."

Kisuke shut the door, face suddenly ashen, and looked down at her. "No . . . No, I don't think you should talk to strangers if you're lost." He paled more, looking over the top of her head. "Promise me you won't talk to strangers if you get lost."

"But . . . how would I get home?"

Kisuke thought for a moment. He gestured for her to follow him to the door off to the right. When they entered, Orihime recognized this room as the place where Kisuke inspected the jewel shard—the place where it all started. He rummaged through piles of junk before he found what he was looking for.

"Here." He handed her a flat, pink rectangle.

Orihime stared, turning the object in her hands, before gasping. "A cellphone?!"

He nodded, pleased with her reaction. "For when you get lost."

"B-but I can't afford this! I-I mean, thank you very much," she bowed three quick times, "but I couldn't possibly pay for this."

"I didn't expect you to pay for it. It's yours to keep. I made it myself."

"What?" She looked at the phone again. It was shiny—new. She didn't know Kisuke was good with his hands like this. She thought it was strictly soul reaper merchandise that he excelled at, but she could now see how the technology aspect would overlap. "You made this? For me? Kisuke, you must have just finished this."

He laughed, a nervous one if she really listened. "I've . . . had it for a while."

She looked at his hands; he held two other flat rectangles—one black, one dark blue. "Did you make those, too?"

He looked down, forgetting he was holding them. "Yes, right!" He held up the black phone. "This one is mine. Your number is already programmed in here and mine is already in yours, along with a few others." He looked at her, smiling sheepishly.

Orihime's head pounded. This was all too much. "Did you . . . Were you always planning to give this to me?"

He laughed awkwardly. "Ahhhh . . . Well, yeah. I was going to wait until your birthday . . . but here we are."

"But why would you do this for me?"

"I've never seen you use one, and you come and go pretty late sometimes. I figured you'd need one eventually."

"That . . . This is . . . r-really kind of you, Kisuke-san. I don't . . . I don't know what to . . ." Orihime collapsed to her knees, clutching her new phone to her chest. She looked up at him with owl eyes, embarrassed by her reaction.

Kisuke regarded her for a moment; he had expected something like this to happen. He sat next to her. "Have you ever used a cellphone before?"

"Um . . . n-no." She flipped her phone open. The buttons were flat and silver with a blue light snaking its way between the number pads. The wallpaper was an assortment of animated rice balls of varying colors with the time and date displayed in the bottom right corner.

Kisuke flipped his phone open and spent fifteen minutes teaching Orihime how to work hers. She didn't need his help, it seemed, but she asked many questions despite herself.

"How do I call someone, again?"

"The green button takes you to your recent calls, and the phone icon takes you to a dial screen."

"How do I remember all the numbers?"

"After you program them into your phone and add your friends' names, all you have to do is type in the letters to their name until you see the one you want."

"Oh . . ." She pressed buttons with deliberate precision. "And . . ." She held the phone to her ear.

Kisuke watched her, listening as her phone buzzed. She looked up at him, expectant. It was then he noticed his leg was vibrating. He looked down at his phone, smiled, and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello. Is Kisuke there?"

"Speaking. Who, if I may ask, is calling?"

She laughed "Orihime Inoue!"

"Orihime Inoue, you say? Well, that's a voice I haven't heard in a while. To what do I owe this honor?"

"I called to say—" She laughed. "I called to say . . ." She turned to him, smiling that radiant smile he hadn't seen in years. She wrapped her arms around him. "I love you, Kisuke!"

He laughed, wrapping his arms around her as well. "I love you, too, Orihime."

And then a memory flash in his mind—him holding Orihime and telling her he loved her—and that felt like a different plane of existence altogether.

He hoped this was finally the lifetime they could all live happily.

Inuyasha stared at Kaede incredulously.

Sango frowned at the floor, her fists balled in her lap.

Shippo was wide eyed, his heart pounding, and his gaze shifted between everyone in the room, lingering the longest on Inuyasha.

Miroku kept his composure, but his muscles were tense, and he tried not to look at the half-demon next to him.

"It is of most importance that you go retrieve Kagome, Inuyasha. Time is wearing thin."

"Is it really that important?" Inuyasha asked. "We don't have to do this now, do we?"

"I do not think ye understand. Demon activity has not been as low as we thought. There has been a slow accumulation of demons fusing together and wreaking havoc in the southern mountains. If we allow them to continue, I do not think it will be something we can control."

"Inuyasha," Miroku said cautiously, "we don't have a choice."

The half demon turned to him—half glaring, half lost.

"It'll only be a few days," Miroku went on. "Until then, you should go to Kagome's time, do what you need to do, and then come back, okay?"

Inuyasha looked at the ground, cursing as he stood. "Fine."