A/N: So no one guessed that the cage is for one of Grimmjow and Senna's kinky games? XD

Thanks to everyone for still sticking to this fic!

Sorry for the long delay. I felt that I needed time to better be able to execute the story plan for this fic and to work out a lot of things regarding the construction and direction. I'm not really sure if I'm gonna succeed though, but I hope you'll enjoy this chapter ^^

Also, changed a little something in chapter 5. It's been bugging me this whole while and I felt it added to the confusion about Ichigo's moon forms, so decided to entirely drop that part out.

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Chapter 16: Yield

Gradually, he became aware of the sound of the dying rain, and little by little felt the cold pitter-patter of its ebbing drops upon his numbed skin. He blinked against the onslaught on his eyes but he had to see what the sudden ineffable knowledge in his mind and the uncompromising, sinking feeling in his chest told him to be true: that the gaping space in the sky had now been filled with a new bright star that seemed to shine sadly through the rain.

His eyes stung, and he let its salt mingle with the torrent, hopeless with the deep-seated, desperate knowledge of everything that he had lost.

She sat curled upon a comfortable chair in the library, books and scrolls scattered around her. Orihime had cooped herself up in there and had not seen anyone at all since her interview with the Scribe. She had wished with all her might not to be found, imagining a shield, golden and triangular, between her and the rest of the guests of the house, and strangely she felt that it seemed to have worked. She could almost feel its warm glow surrounding her, and had to shake her head at herself for having such an imagination. It must be the house, she thought, feeling abashed at it being so accommodating to her wish, but she truly hadn't wanted to see anyone.

She blew her nose into a handkerchief, an open book falling on her lap. So that's what happened to the God of Foxes and Snakes, she thought with a sniff. She could still picture the image of the Goddess of Love and Fertility with her tearful face bending over the Fox God, could so clearly hear her voice calling for him even as the Butterfly Man felled him.

She felt unsettled at the thought that even gods died and yet the world carried on much like what happened with a normal human being. Snakes and foxes lived on even though now there didn't seem to be any gods presiding over them. And what did they need a god for, truly? Could they pray?

Her brother only had the one book and she could recall with absolute certainty that the story she had just read about the death of a god had not been chronicled there. Such a subject matter didn't seem to be something that they would so readily spread around, especially to mortals. What exactly happened to a soul when facing death?

And what about the God of Death? What would happen should he perish? What would happen to the moon?

The thought made her look out of the library window. The sky was cast with the colours of the fall, the vibrant reds and oranges making way for dusky blue. A chill slithered down her spine as she watched the sky darken, the little hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing on end, and fear unlike any she had known began to take root in her heart.

Awaiting doom was unbearable. Now that she had gained knowledge of the Death God's plan for her, what could she do? And what about her newly discovered pregnancy? What manner of cruelty was in store for her and the unborn child?

She could flee, run away, but she knew that with him possessing such power, there was nowhere for her to go where he wouldn't reach her.

Her heart hurt. She was tired of feeling helpless, tired of being ignorant, but fear was out of her control. Since her time in this world was soon to expire, surely it wouldn't hurt to know what had happened to Karakura after she had been given to the Death God as a sacrifice? If all the villagers had perished, the thought that she would join them soon should bring her a quantum of solace.

There was a sudden heavy pressure in the air that had Orihime's heart pounding swiftly within her, her legs shaky even as she forced herself to stand, the book dropping to the floor. Inside her mind, she wished for the imaginary barrier to strengthen between her and what ever brought on this tumultuous fear. Her inner voice, the one vying for survival, urged her not to look behind her for she didn't know what she would face, what would await her, but she couldn't help her body from moving on its own volition toward the doors. She must get away from this power that threatened to overwhelm her, but the one method of escaping led her straight to it.

The spiritual pressure…there was something familiar about it, and yet different.

What is this? What is here?

Death?

Was the reckoning for what happened at the village finally about to descend upon her? She swallowed, wrung her fingers together. This was it. She could almost feel her imaginary shield beginning to crack and break, and she frowned at that. Perhaps her fear heightened her wish to be protected and hidden that the house complied to it, but even a god's house had limited power and could not fight against a god itself, especially one whose intent to kill was too strong.

Sweat dripped down her forehead as the doors began to open, and death greeted her.

I'll do it tonight, Ichigo decided.

Time was of the essence and there was hardly any to waste. He patted the front of his robes, and sighed with relief that the vial was still safely ensconced within its folds.

Walking through the halls of his father's house, he warily prepared himself against any movements from the mosaic tiles. All he wanted was to find Orihime, and he really, absolutely could not be bothered to be waylaid by his father or any of the other gods.

His features softened as he finally made it to his chamber door and couldn't help the excited beat of his heart, nor could he stop the grin that began to stretch upon his lips. Opening the door, he was disheartened and more than a little disappointed to find the chamber empty. He pulled the mask that had been perched atop his head over his face to hide his expression, and extended his mind to search for the strand of spiritual pressure that belonged to Orihime. Puzzled, his grip on the doorknob tightened when he couldn't feel a trace of her. This had better not be the other gods' idea of a joke, or worse still, one of the trickeries of Isshin's house—one of the reasons that had made him appreciative and relieved to leave this place when he came into his power when he was younger.

At the continuous feeling of the empty void of her presence, panic and anger started to war within him. It fiercely spread through his being, overcoming his ability to reason as the only thing that filled his mind was the knowledge that she was gone. A haze began to surround his mind and all colour receded from him, leaving him in his white form. Slamming the door closed, he prowled down the corridor, exuding murderous aura that had the other guests of the house scrambling to escape his ominous presence. The house itself seemed to take on a life of its own with a severe need to comply to his simple wishes, and blasted open a set of double doors for him that led to one of the banquet halls, heralding his entrance.

A sudden, heavy hush fell upon the room, and all its occupants turned as one, alarmed at the sight of the white form of the Death God.

They froze in their spots, hardly moving, unwilling to confront or greet the figure that joined them.

His voice, when he finally spoke, resounded with a manic echo, its low and guttural tone making it seem as though he had difficulty reining in his power to instantaneously end life.

"Where is she?"

There was no doubt in anyone's mind whom he referred, and like a wave, a pathway opened between him and a dark-haired Scribe, who stood beside the Goddess of Love and Fertility.

The click of his clawed feet upon the tile floor seemed to echo and emphasize the reigning silence he commanded. The God of Death watched the Scribe attempt to swallow, his arm held by Rangiku's vise-like grip, as though that would prevent Death from claiming him.

Cold, golden irises against a backdrop of inky black peered through the mask.

"Why you?" he grounded out in that same slurred growl as though he had become too animalistic for the civility of proper speech. "What were you doing with her?"

"A-an interview, my lord," came the breathless answer.

The Death God tilted his head forward, the long, sharp horns lowering so that the Scribe's neck lay between them. A slight movement from him, a sudden flicker—that was all that was required for that head to roll should he receive an unacceptable answer.

"Interview," he repeated.

"F-for the story of your marriage, my lord."

A long snarl rumbled low in his throat, and he watched with cruel detachment as the Scribe's lips trembled, seeing in his periphery the Goddess of Love and Fertility holding back her tears. This would mark the second time he'd had to claim something of hers, although the first death had not been caused by him.

Before he could move, a sudden weight pressed upon his shoulder and horns.

"Not in my house," commanded Isshin, one hand grasping the Death God's shoulder while the other gripped the handle of his sword, the flat of the blade pushing his horns up from their hold on the Scribe.

"Control yourself, son."

The God of Death relented, allowing his father to raise his head, watching the Goddess and the Scribe back away from them.

Isshin kept his blade against his horns for caution. Breaking either one of them would temporarily temper his power and restrain his agitated state.

"What's wrong?" asked his father gently.

For several beats he kept silent, reining in his rage enough to be able to form words. The answer, when it came, was anguished. "I can't feel her."

The elder god's brows furrowed. He gazed off to the side for a moment as he extended his mind to search within his domain. Encountering a curious barrier in one part of his house, it was with all his might that he dared not meet the eyes of the God of Invention and Knowledge. His son before them was not the one that they could easily disregard and rile. What stood now was simply and ineffably the God of Death, his son having yielded control to his power.

"She's in the library," said Isshin in that same careful tone. Gesturing with his head, his blade still secured upon the horns, he led the Death God from the room and out into the hallway, rearranging the walls so that the doors that stood adjacent to the banquet room were the library's.

He too could not feel the presence of the bride of the Death God, and were the house not an extension of himself, he would not have been able to sense the barrier that encompassed the library. Isshin had an inkling as to the cause of it, for no human could have been able to accomplish such a thing. And seeing his son descend to such a state once more reminded him of the reason why Ichigo had shunned the company of the other gods soon after he came into his power, and why the other gods themselves had been relieved to be relieved of Ichigo's presence.

"Turn back, son," implored Isshin. "See? She's there, just on the other side of those doors. She's been there the whole time. So turn back. I trust you."

"Let me see her."

Isshin sighed, lowering his blade. "I trust you," he repeated, removing his hand from his son's shoulder and backing slowly away, mentally eyeing the shield over the library and with a flick of his power, caused it to crumble. As it began to pulverize, the doors slowly opened.

The creaking of the entrance set her teeth on edge despite the trembling of her jaws. This is it, Orihime thought, her eyes roving the figure that met her. Of course, it would be this form. As the God of Death began to move, every click of the claws of his feet on the tiled floor seemed to her like a grain of sand falling through the hourglass of her life, counting down.

Make it quick, she thought as he came ever closer, closing her eyes as she waited for the end. She gasped as she felt herself being wrapped up in his arms, could barely breathe at the tightness of his embrace, his long hair curtaining her.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, and she opened her eyes in surprise, seeing just in time the white strands over her brightening to orange.

Must he play with her so?

"I couldn't feel you anywhere. I lost myself. A-and I scared everyone...again."

The despair in his voice melted the fear in her heart, and he seemed to her to be nothing more than simply a man, with his own fears and weaknesses. Despite herself, her arms raised and encompassed him in her embrace, running her hands in circles upon his back.

"Shh," she intoned gently. She didn't know anymore what to believe; one touch from him, the sound of his voice – these were enough to unmake her.

The Death God held her tighter against his chest, and she couldn't help but feel against her cheek the gaping hole where his heart ought to be. Despite its emptiness, she could still hear the telltale throbbing of its beat, the fast and furious rhythm winding down to a gentle tattoo.

A hand against her cheek lifted her head, and she stared up at the eyes that peered at her from beneath the mask. There was worry there, and agony, and apprehension at what he found in her gaze.

"Orihime?" asked he in an anxious tone, lifting up the hand that held her cheek to remove his mask.

It wouldn't hurt to know, surely? She just couldn't let it eat her up inside like this, and if he really loved her like he claimed, surely he would grant her an answer.

She licked her dry lips, and began, "I want to know..."

His brows raised and he tilted his head, waiting for her to continue.

Everything. You. The Goddess of Autumn. My village.

Orihime opened her mouth. All the words wanted to escape at once but her voice failed to deliver them.

Where do I begin?

She pushed against his chest, freeing herself from him, and turned away. She felt a slight pull at her head as he took hold of the ends of her hair, letting them trickle through his fingers.

Away from his gaze, she felt her resolve strengthen. "Karakura," she breathed. "Is it—?"

"Hmm?"

She sighed. Not facing him, she couldn't read his expression, couldn't tell if he was angry at the mention of the place. But she'd already begun on this path, she couldn't—shouldn't—turn back. Whatever will come, will come.

Swallowing, she took a hold of her arms and steeled herself. "Are there still...people left...in Karakura?"

Silence and stillness were her answers, suffusing the room with an unquenchable heaviness. Dread grew within her, and she closed her eyes in an effort to hinder the oncoming tears.

Letting out a small yelp as he grabbed hold of her shoulders, she complied at his silent command and turned. She was afraid to look at him, but his hand upon her chin forced her to raise her head and all she could do was keep her eyes downcast.

The Death God, in turn, lowered his head to peer up at her. His ever furrowed brows were present, and in spite of them, his expression conveyed his puzzlement.

"What kind of a question is that? Of course, there's still people in Karakura."

Her eyes rounded in surprise and unencumbered joy, and she felt as though her heart had fallen away from her. Orihime couldn't help the sudden giddiness she felt, nor could she stop herself from jumping into his arms in tearful laughter. And he, in turn, couldn't help but feel dumbfounded at her shifting behaviour.

"I'm glad," she whispered.

"Why would you think there wouldn't be people left in Karakura?" asked Ichigo.

Her laughter subsided and her arms lowered, but he wouldn't let her get away so easily.

"I was just worried..."

"Worried?"

And all at once, the realization came to him: she saw him as a fickle god, just like how all the other mortals saw all the other gods. That he himself was into the game, that despite the sacrifice made by them, he could easily disregard it and continue on with his punishment.

Ichigo couldn't dissever himself from the sadness that overcame him, that despite his efforts, he couldn't bridge the gap that seemed to ever be present between them.

But with him was the one thing that could change that.

First, though, he felt the need to give her some reassurance. "The moment you came to me was the moment the plague was lifted from your village. There was never any need for you to worry. Karakura has been safe for a while now."

Squeezing her shoulders gently, he continued, "You were enough. You're all I need and want. Never doubt my love for you."

He reached into his robes for the vial. "Orihime, I have something for you."

Wonderingly, she gazed up at him, noticing the tightly fisted hand he held out.

"This is a gift from the gods. What you're entitled to upon your marriage to me. I hope you'll accept this." Taking her hand, he placed the vial upon her palm. "Drink this, and you'll become one of us."

She stared at the familiar green liquid inside the small container, and felt as though her stomach dropped at the implication of what this entailed. No, it couldn't be...

But—?

Maybe it just looked like the drink that the God of Invention and Knowledge gave her. It was just a coincidence. She had, after all, been craving the same drink since then, and it didn't really mean anything that that and this seemed to have the same colour.

—"...you'll become one of us."—

If that was true, then, since that night, she had already been one of them.

Orihime felt faint, and the world became a blur as the floor rushed up to meet her.

APPENDIX

Gin - God of Foxes and Snakes (deceased)
Aizen - a Butterfly Man (evolved form of the black butterflies that gods use to send messages to each other); was executed by the Death God by order of the Spirit King for killing a god
Rangiku - Goddess of Love and Fertility
Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon
Spirit King - God of the Sun, Ruler of All Gods and the Natural Order of the World
Hisagi - a Scribe (servant to the gods among whose duties include the recording of the gods' lives to distribute as stories to humans)
Isshin - God of Life
Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god

Thanks for reading :)
Aug/2011