A/N: You guys always floor me with your generosity in your comments :) Wow, another milestone with over 200 reviews? *spins a leek around à la Orihime* I heartily give my thanks and hope you'll continue to enjoy this story :)
Flashback order: 2, 9, 3, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4.
The emboldened number is the current chapter. They're not written chronologically because I make this fic up as I go ^^;
Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.
Chapter 9: Adrift
Seventeen months ago, a travelling market came to Karakura.
Hand in hand with Tatsuki, with Chizuru's hands on both her shoulders, and Keigo, Mahana, Mizuiro, Michiru, and Ryo trailing behind, they walked through the field just outside the village dotted with stalls and stands, inspecting the various wares and foods that have caught their eyes.
Here was a clothing stand, offering lovely colours and flattering patterns that the girls all fawned over. They tried on scarves and hair pieces, held up dresses and skirts in front of their figures, chattering and giggling while Keigo looked on with interest and gave compliments to each in the hopes that they would change their clothes in front of him and Mizuiro flirted with the older married woman who minded the stall.
There, under an awning, was a table with all manner of assorted sweets that the girls were excited over, holding a sample up to each other to try as they made decisions on which to purchase, with Keigo opening his mouth in the hopes that they would feed him as well―and maybe, just maybe he would be lucky to score a kiss in the process. He wasn't at all successful, whereas Mizuiro managed to charm the older female stall attendant.
As they wandered the meandering little stores, they came upon a seemingly ageless woman outside of a tent, and she invited all of them inside.
"Fancy your fortunes told?" she asked. "For one coin each, I'll tell you who you'll marry, whether prosperity awaits you. Won't you come inside?"
Michiru and Mahana jumped at the chance, giggling as they burst through the tent flaps. Ryo stared at the fortune teller dubiously even as she followed the other girls.
"I don't need to go," claimed Chizuru. "I already know that Orihime and I will live happily ever after."
"Tatsuki?" asked the auburn-haired girl as she squeezed her friend's hand. "It'll be fun."
The black-haired girl blew out air between her lips, fluttering her spiky bangs. "Fine," she acquiesced as she was led by her friend inside.
"I'm going too," said Keigo, trailing after the girls.
"I don't really need it, but thanks," said Mizuiro as he turned to the next stall to chat up with its seller (older and female, of course).
Inside, the tent was redolent with the musky scent of incense. Diaphanous scarves and curtains with gold trimmings and tinkling bells adorned the walls. Around the small table at the centre sat the friends in makeshift stools. The fortune teller came in and settled in her seat, shaking a leather pouch filled with stones.
"Who would like to go first?" she inquired.
Mahana, Michiru, and Keigo all held up their hands and spoke at once.
"Will I be rich?"
"Will I find true love?"
"Will I ever get lucky?"
The diviner laughed as she spilled the stones on the table. The friends were all puzzled as to why her laughter abruptly subsided. She placed the stones back in the pouch, shook them once more, and upended it again over the table, shaking her head at what she saw. This she repeated, and at the last her lips trembled and a tear trailed down her cheek as she looked up at them.
"Is it bad news?" asked Tatsuki. Even though she'd rather not believe the wish-wash of this so-called profession, she couldn't help feeling unnerved at the fortune teller's show of emotion.
The woman chuckled in an attempt to abate the sudden alarm of her customers as she wiped at her cheeks, pasting a smile to allay their worries.
"The gods," she whispered. "They're watching over you."
They all craned their heads, hoping for more.
"That's a good thing, right? It means we're blessed?" offered Keigo as he laughed nervously.
She took a deep breath in an effort to compose herself and gave them a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "You will all live happily."
Tatsuki snorted, shaking her head as she stormed out of the tent. The others followed with disappointed gaits, holding out their coins which the fortune teller refused. The last to leave was the auburn-haired young woman, looking at her worriedly and touching her hand.
"Will you be alright?" she asked.
The fortune teller started, and gave her a nod. "Yes, thank you," she replied, her eyes roaming over the girl wonderingly. "You," said she as she held the girl's hand, tracing the lines on her palm. "You will go beyond. You will lose a lot, but gain so much more. And you will rise, higher than anyone can ever imagine. And you will love, and be loved, so strongly and full of passion."
The young woman didn't quite know how to react to anything the fortune teller said, except to grasp the last thing which seemed to her, at her age, to be the most pressing matter. "Is it anyone I know?"
"Yes."
"From the village?"
"No. And I can't say anymore." The fortune teller released her hand.
"Oh." She nodded, and then bowed. "Well, thank you very much. Here." She held out a coin.
The older woman shook her head. "Consider it a gift. Farewell."
"Goodbye." She left, only to meet Tatsuki outside waiting for her with her arms crossed.
"I hope you're not going to believe whatever hogwash she told you," said the black-haired girl.
She smiled in reply as she tucked her hand into her friend's elbow. It was just done for fun, and she promptly dismissed them from her mind as they set off to follow the rest of their friends to take in more of the sights and sounds of the fair.
As soon as she passed through the dining room doors, she ran. Down the corridor, left to another hallway, straight through a gallery, she ran.
In her mind, Orihime conjured up images of what she desired: the outside, fresh air―and the house of the God of Life complied and brought her to a set of double doors that led out to the labyrinth garden.
She leapt down the stone steps and into the arched opening set in the hedge wall, all the green that surrounded her reminding her of a time, of a life that now seemed to belong to someone else. She flew left and right through the maze, her mind's eye seeing instead the tall trees, errant bushes, and the rambling roots of the woods that bordered Karakura. Her skirts were hitched up to free her legs with one hand while the other tightly held her friend Tatsuki's, their laughter resounding as their friends chased them: Michiru, Ryo, Mahana, Chizuru, and Keigo...Mizuiro was the only one who couldn't be bothered, instead left behind to chase the skirts of older women.
It was a simple life in the village; theirs was the field of innocence. There were days when they would hold a picnic under a tree at the edge of the woods, and her friends hardly would try out her contributed concoctions.
Chizuru, as they started to grow older and their bodies began to change, would sit very close to her, hands inching up to grope her enlarging breasts only to be pounded down by Tatsuki.
Keigo, meanwhile, would awkwardly try to steal a kiss from any one of them―with the exception of Mizuiro, of course―once even blindly managing to land one on Tatsuki, only to be subsequently given a harsh beating by her. They had never been able to tell if her flushed cheeks had been because of the impromptu kiss or her not-as-enraged-as-she-usually-would-have-been anger. And he...well he had been rather proud of himself despite the bruises he'd earned because of it, and blazed by the experience of the kiss, would always attempt to catch her off-guard for more.
Mizuiro, whenever he would deign to join them, would always be distracted by the numerous love letters from his various paramours.
There were talks of plans for the future, of what they would be doing and where would they be once they reached the age of adulthood. Orihime had wanted to apprentice herself to the baker in the village square, much to the mortified looks of her friends as they eyed the eldritch and interesting meals she'd brought.
There were talks of the village boys, of which Keigo would pout petulantly over since he wasn't included in the choicest and most eligible that the girls would preen and sigh for. There were talks of betrothals, of marriages, of children, of the increasing appeal of spinsterhood (according to Tatsuki as she eyed Keigo), and of the far more enrapturing topic of other women (according to Chizuru as she eyed Orihime). There were discussions on mating, springtime or otherwise, between married couples or otherwise, whom they could spy conveniently from their perch of which then would become the scandalous gossip circulating the village.
Her steps slowed, brought back to the present by the burning of her lungs and the wild palpitations of her heart.
In that seemingly much distant past, Orihime had figured she would be going through the motions as was expected: marriage to a nice boy (that of course her brother would need to approve of first), settling down somewhere in their own abode, bear children, work. Continue on in that peaceful life where one day was the same as the next. She knew that none of them could ever have the prescience to see what would befall them so suddenly, of an epidemic that killed many so quickly, of her being offered to the God of Death to put a stop to it.
Back then, their future had seemed so far away, their youth long and lasting, with so many possibilities lying in wait. Who could ever have foreseen how drastically their lives had changed? She was so far away now from that time, that place, that life. Now, there was no slender hand to hold hers, to squeeze in comfort and support, to help lead her away from the numerous confusions that consumed her. Here, there was no Tatsuki to bop her on her head for wanting to flee instead of facing the situations presented to her.
She stumbled and fell to her knees, much like what would usually have happened then due to her clumsiness, but unlike in her memories, Tatsuki wasn't here to help her up. She was alone.
Tatsuki was the strong one. If she were here with her now as she stood poised at the cusp of such a momentous change that would utterly alter her life, Orihime knew that she wouldn't feel as afraid or as overwhelmed because Tatsuki was her source of strength and confidence. She would be able to face it straight on and forge ahead into the unknown future.
A sob, a heaving sigh. How the world had suddenly changed for all of them. Most of them had descended while she herself was on the brink of an ascension. She was a lone human among this parade of gods, the bride of one and expected to be mother to another, and soon anticipated to no longer be human.
Too much in so little time. She couldn't bear the weakness she felt when away from Tatsuki. All these weeks, she'd buried the yearning for her old life deep inside her, purged all thoughts of the people she used to know, smiled on the outside in the hope that that smile would become real and that she could truly look forward to what was in store for her.
She rose and ambled away further into the maze, idly running a hand against the leafy wall as she strove to even her breathing, with each exhale willing herself to burrow away her feelings and memories once more. She had to be strong.
Turning a corner, she found herself in a clearing with a backless stone bench at its centre. Across from it was a gate, solid and nondescript, with no way to view what lay beyond it. It had no handle, she'd found as she tapped around its surface.
She sighed as she turned away and sat on the bench. Even if, somehow, it turned out to be an escape from this world, she still had an obligation. For all intents and purposes she had been gifted to the Death God; and her life was, as all human lives were, for the gods' to do with as they pleased. If they wished to grant her godhood, then she had no other choice than to accept it, graciously if not gratefully.
Orihime started as the hedge wall right by her parted to a doorway, revealing an intimidating-looking man with black hair, three parallel scars that ran over his right eye from forehead to chin, with two numbers tattooed on his left cheek. He eyed her wonderingly.
"Are you, by any chance, Orihime?" inquired he.
She could only give a nod as reply, her eyes roaming over his features and meeting his pin-like narrow eyes.
He gave a bow. "I am Shuuhei Hisagi, one of the Scribes of the Gods. I've been summoned to interview you."
"Interview me?" parroted she, puzzled. "What is it for?"
"For the story of your life and marriage to the God of Death. I have been charged with the honour of writing it."
"Oh," she responded, frowning. "Wha―?"
"We Scribes are the ones who write the tales of the gods' lives, which we then distribute to the mortal world as stories. It's so the facts are straight and no one makes any made-up stories about them."
"Ah. I see. Are you the one writing the story of Rukia―I mean, the Goddess of Snow's marriage to Renji?"
"No, that honour fortunately belongs to another scribe, Yasuchika Iemura."
"You sound really relieved when you said that."
"Oh, yes, very. The God of Night and Spring is a very hard one to please. So it's best that someone else got the job."
"Hmm, yes, he does seem uptight when I met him last night."
"Yes," he chuckled, then stopped to look behind him to check in case the god in question had heard and smite him on the spot. He sighed with relief. "May I?" He gestured to the space beside her. She nodded, shifting to gather her skirts closer to her as he sat. He cleared his throat, unrolling the scroll he'd tucked under his arm and whipping out a quill and ink bottle. "So how did you and the Death God meet? Was there a courtship? Was it a sweep-you-off-your-feet kind of romance? Love at first sight? Any details would be appreciated if I'm to give this story justice."
"Er, we met at the Lunar Palace…"
He began to write, looking at her expectantly to continue, his quill poised.
She eyed the sky as she thought of what else she could say. "...He did sweep me off my feet when I got there..." She trailed off, blushing.
"Anything else? Like, how did you come to be his bride?"
"Er, my village gave me to him as a sacrifice?" She giggled nervously, rubbing the back of her head as he stared at her, blinking.
"Oh. Oooh, I understand. One of those types of marriages." He bent down and wrote a bit on the scroll. "So then, how do you feel about the God of Death?"
Orihime played around with the fabric of her skirt, fiddled with the fine embroidery and bead-work on it. "I think he's very kind and generous. He's provided a lot for me, and I'm really grateful to him. I hope that I can return in kind by being a good wife and mother to any children I may bear him."
For a moment, only the sound of a quill scratching on paper could be heard. And then, "Do you love him?"
She stared at him, eyes widened. "Eh?"
"Do you love him?"
"I...he's...well, we're...and..." She bit her lip worriedly, her eyes landing on the numbers on his cheek, a memory tickling the edge of her mind. "What stories have you written?" She burst out in an effort to stray from his line of questioning.
He was taken aback, realizing what she was trying to do and nonetheless obliging her to put her at ease. "You want my credentials, I suppose. Uh, let's see…" He thought for a moment, tapping the quill against the paper. "There was the story of the Goddess of Order and the God of Summer, of how when they first met the God of Silence flower petals descended upon the two gods, only it really was just the Goddess of Order throwing them down for dramatic effect as requested of the God of Summer. Do you know that one?"
"No, I don't think I've heard of that story."
"Oh. Well, it's not really my best work. How about the tale of the Fox God and the Goddess of Love and Fertility?"
Orihime tilted her head, wondering why he suddenly turned beet red as he spoke of the goddess's name. Her gaze strayed once again to the numbers on his cheek. "Are you the sixty-ninth scribe?" she asked.
"Eh?"
She pointed to his cheek. "Are the scribes numbered? Is that your rank?"
"Oh." He nodded his head, understanding her. "It's um, how shall I say this? It's for aesthetic purposes? Um, in honour of someone..." He couldn't help colouring even more.
Her brows furrowed. "Rangiku…" she muttered to herself.
"Er…"
"Eh. Eh? Ehhh?" She sputtered, pointing at him as a thought clicked into place. "The worshiper at the Goddess of Love and Fertility's temple! She was telling us a story last night about a position―" She slapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide, her cheeks blooming with embarrassment, although as she looked at him, her own didn't quite match his.
He sprang up from the seat as though burned, face aflame, clutching to him the quill and paper. "Maybe we should do this some other time? I really must be going now. I just remembered something I have to do that's really very urgent." He hastened back through the opening from whence he came, hands fisted at his sides. She watched as he broke into a run.
"I'm sorry!" she yelled out, hands cupped over her lips, hoping he'd heard her just as the leafy wall began to join up once more, covering the doorway he'd made as though there never had been one at all. Orihime hadn't really meant to embarrass him; she felt just as equally mortified.
She put her hands over her face and shook her head, sighing as she thought about the question that she hadn't been able to provide a response to even though the answer was simply 'yes.'
It would be thoroughly unfair to admit it to a stranger and not to the object of her affection.
"...You will love, and be loved, so strongly and full of passion..." came the fortune teller's words in her head, reminding her of a time she'd already forgotten about.
She laid down on the bench, gazing up at the sky framed by the tops of the hedge walls. She'd thought it was just one of those things that fortune tellers said to please the crowd, a nice and general token of good news to earn a bit of coin. But the teller's tears foretold of the misfortune that came upon the village, and then what she'd told Orihime after everyone else had left...
"You will go beyond. You will lose a lot, but gain so much more. And you will rise, higher than anyone can ever imagine."
It seemed they weren't the hogwash that Tatsuki originally thought them to be after all.
APPENDIX
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon
Byakuya - God of the Night and Spring
Nanao - Goddess of Order
Shunsui - God of Summer
Sado - God of Silence
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility
Hisagi - a Scribe (servant to the gods among whose duties include the recording of the gods' lives to distribute as stories to humans)
Thanks for reading :)
Jan/2011