A/N: WOW O_O I am staggered by the immense generosity and support that you wonderful, wonderful readers have given this story. In all the years I've been sporadically writing fanfics, I never imagined any story I write would reach reviews in the hundreds, and to see this fic reach 500...? WOW. AFJJFODSFUDSVJNKSDHFSJIJFS!

Thank you, thank you very much from the bottom of my heart, and I hope, as always, for your continued enjoyment of this story ^_^

Flashback order: 14, 2, 9, 13, 17, 3, 15, 11, 8, 7, 6, 5, 12, 4, 10, 16.

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite.

Chapter 17: Unbound

She walked with her brother towards Karakura's village square, skipping and clapping with delight at the decorations that graced the place. Today was their annual celebration of the end of spring and the beginning of summer, and every villager had turned up in a wonderful array of colours.

Laughter and merriment resounded; everyone wore wreathes of berries and flowers. Mead and wine, fruits and meat and oats and wheat were distributed and shared. Young men chased women for dalliances upon haystacks or darkened corners.

As the moon rose in the sky, they lit a huge bonfire, and music filled the air. Drums, fiddles, and flutes played song after song. Hand in hand with her friends, she danced, feeling joyful and tireless. She had never felt as glad and content as that moment, thankful that her brother brought them to live in this peaceful and beautiful place, away from the confining city of her and her brother's abused childhood. In a moment of rest, she saw Sora among the other young men with a tankard in his hand, happy to find him unstressed and carefree, with laugh lines gracing his face instead of those of sorrow and pain. If there was a god of freedom, she would have prayed, but she consoled herself to pray to any god of happiness to have brought them this day.

Among the many tables and chairs scattered along the square, she sat with her friends, teasing and cajoling with Mahana and Michiru as they watched Tatsuki and Keigo endeavour to dance—the former standing as still as she possibly could while the latter fumbled around in an effort not to step on her toes—and through it all, brushing away Chizuru's many attempts to grope her.

After a fashion, the music ended, much to Tatsuki's immense relief as she sat stiffly in her seat, and tried her best to pretend that the "dance" never happened, while Keigo mourned about the sublime opportunity to become closer to her immeasurably and dismally lost, resolving to drown his loss by quaffing flagon after flagon of ale.

"Say, Orihime," slurred out Keigo, "did anyone ever tell you that you're like the goddess of the fall? I never noticed it before, but you remind me of autumn: all brown and red and orange and, and, and brown. Your hair is very long and shiny."

Tatsuki turned and hit the back of his head with her fist. "Stupid! Don't say stupid things!"

"Ow! I'm not! If I don't love you already I'd be declaring my love for her, the goddess of soft valleys—ow! Ow! Ow!"

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO GO SAYING STUPID THINGS!"

Her voice echoed throughout the square, and the music stopped, the villagers turning as one to watch the spectacle they were making. Soon after, whispers of "Ah, it's just lover's quarrel," and murmured assents of "Find a haystack or something!" began to circulate, and music and laughter struck anew.

The dwellers of the village of Karakura never would have foreseen that this would be the last time they'd be holding good cheer as, not long after, a plague came for them.

It was quite a scene: bathed beneath the moon's silver filigree that was framed by the window, he sat upon a comfortable chair in the library with her cradled in his arms. Exuding serenity, Ichigo wished they could stay like this for a long time. With a sigh, he took the vial of green liquid that he'd used as a bookmark and could only shake his head that something so small as this could be the very thing he needed. He wanted, more than anything, for Orihime to drink the draught, but he couldn't force her. And judging by her reaction to it earlier, it seemed as though she wasn't nearly ready to accept her new life as he would've liked her to be.

The hours were steadily counting down, a few more days until the promised day, and he had to figure out some sort of countermeasure for her before then. And with his earlier act in the banquet room…well, he was certain that the other gods would be steering clear of him for the duration of their visit, so it would be nigh impossible to ask any of them for help as they would likely run away before he could get close enough to ask.

It wasn't as though he was overtly worried about lending his heart to Ulquiorra—it was just something that had never been done before, and though he was really loath to give that part of himself away, if only for a short time, it was still an agreement between gods, and it was not wise to renege on the deal. In order for one to attain something, one had to give: much like why he couldn't just stop the plague himself once the arrangement between him and the Goddess of Autumn was finished, the village of Karakura had to give something up in exchange. Honour between agreements must be upheld, regardless of the fact that both sides had dissolved their party.

He felt her stirring against his chest, and he rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. Through the haze of his whitened rage earlier, he'd felt that same difference he'd sensed in her before. It was stronger, more concentrated—and it had been the very thing that was preventing him from finding her, and it had been coming from Orihime herself. A sinking feeling in his chest told him what his instinct was conveying before, but he needed some sort of certification. He had an inkling as to the cause of it, as a flash of Kisuke's image pervaded his mind, and from his earlier momentary loss of control, he knew that it wouldn't be easy to find the God of Knowledge and Invention right now. Ichigo had been extending his mind for a trace of that god's presence, but it seemed he either had left Isshin's house or was somehow cloaking his presence through some device he'd invented.

Ichigo sighed. If what he felt was true, then inducing Orihime's transformation without her husband's initiation of it was done for the best; it was what he had been wishing for after all, and there would be no use in unleashing his anger and expending unnecessary energy at the culprit no matter how much it irked him. It was just like Kisuke to make a fool of him by having him think he was in control, but ending up taking the reins himself for his own experiment and observation.

It didn't mean, though, that Kisuke would get off scot-free. Ichigo would pay him back for this, eventually.

And he could only hope that Kisuke hadn't tricked her into drinking it. That somehow, she herself had taken it of her own free will.

He expanded his mind, threads of his spiritual pressure mingling with Orihime's. Now that he'd allowed himself to open up about this difference in her, he could clearly see just how altered her own spiritual pressure was from what it had been previously. There was no longer any trace of human in her; she was a god through and through, and with this all his worries should be assuaged. He just hoped that the concoction that Kisuke brewed had something in it to ease the transition from mortal to immortal.

There was a ripple of spiritual presences by the door. Ichigo turned, and frowned, only managing to get a glimpse of three dark heads and one with a bright red head before they disappeared off to the side of the ajar door upon noticing that he'd sensed them. They've been sent to check up on his state, no doubt, to make sure he wasn't back to his white form and that he wasn't harming anyone, especially Orihime. He couldn't really blame the other gods for being worried.

His ears pricked as he heard their murmured voices, the door creaking as they managed to push Renji through, the latter skidding to a halt a few paces from where Ichigo sat, chagrined at their interruption and rubbing the back of his neck.

Renji cleared his throat. "So, uh…"

Ichigo stared at him expectantly through his furrowed brows.

"Hey," waved the interloper. "So, uh, you're back to normal," continued Renji, striving for nonchalance. "That's good. All clear, then. Very good. Yeah."

The seconds ticked by. The pony-tailed redhead's eyes wandered as he searched for anything else to say. He thought it was a bit unfair that he was conscripted to check up on the Death God just because he was a newly made god and wasn't presiding over anything unlike his wife or the God of Archery or even the God of Silence; just because it seemed as though there was no danger for archers or snow or silence to suddenly find themselves godless didn't mean that he didn't feel threatened. He still had to face God of Death. For lack of anything else, he said, "Shuuhei is okay, if you're wondering."

"Shuuhei?" Ichigo finally contributed to the conversation.

"The Scribe that you, uh…" Renji made various gestures to his neck.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"That's good, then."

"Yeah."

"Aren't you going to apologize to him?" screeched out Rukia as she stormed from her hiding place towards Ichigo and proceeded to hit his head with her slipper. She figured since he was in his human form, it was now safe for her to abuse him in such a manner.

"Ow! What the hell, Rukia? Stop that. You're going to wake up Orihime. Stop her, Renji." It was all he could do to protect his head with one hand while holding on to his wife with his other arm.

Renji, for his part, took hold of Rukia, a little bit afraid that even this little squabble might be enough to turn the Death God back into his white form. The Goddess of Snow's arms and legs flailed around for a moment before she finally composed herself. "I'm fine, Renji. Put me down."

Her husband complied, and she smoothed her garments, dropping her slipper to the floor so she could slip her foot back into it. She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I hope you'll think over what you've done this evening."

"Stop talking to me like a child," barked Ichigo.

"Stop acting like one."

"Rukia," admonished Renji, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You're making too much noise," said Ichigo, shifting so that Orihime was more comfortable in his arms. A huffing exhale broke from him at the interruption of his solitude, feeling something digging into his palm and remembering the vial he held. His brows furrowed deeper in thought. "Say, Renji..."

"Yes?"

"When you were turned into a god, yours didn't look like this, did it?" He held out the container with the green substance. The tattooed redhead took it and turned it over, staring at it with a frown while Rukia peered over his arm.

"No," answered Renji. "Mine wasn't a puke green colour. It was piss yellow. Ow!" The Goddess of Snow had hit him on the arm.

Ichigo could only shake his head. "Did Urahara make yours, too?"

Renji nodded, handing the vial back.

"How was it?"

"How was what?"

"What was it like when you took it? Did you feel any changes?"

Renji's pallour became sullen and sickly as he remembered. "Let's just say that I think Kisuke had had too much fun with mine."

Ichigo's spine straightened as his expression became stricken. "What do you mean by that?" he asked cautiously.

"It lasted a couple of days. I felt bloated, and for some reason, I had morning sickness and had some cravings for weird food..." He blew air out exasperatedly at the recollection while Rukia rubbed his back in a comforting manner. "Like I said, I think he'd had too much fun making my drink. If it's any consolation, I don't think he made Orihime's the same way he made mine."

Ichigo's mouth was set in a thin line, not finding much reassurance in Renji's account and even less in Kisuke's capabilities. He rose with Orihime in his arms. "I'm taking her back to our room."

"Will you be alright?" asked Renji.

He nodded, taking a small step towards the door, and then changed his mind and made his way towards the balcony, and from there, disappeared in a flash.

"Coward," muttered Rukia.

"I don't blame him. He did cause a disturbance in the banquet hall."

"Seriously! Orihime was here all this time, there was no need for him to lose control."

"But were you able to sense that she was here?"

Rukia shuffled her feet. "No."

"Right. Nobody was able to except for the God of Life. Wasn't that strange?"

"It was," she conceded with a frown. "Do you think she already drank the draught?"

"Well, the vial looked to be still sealed, but knowing Kisuke, he'd probably already induced her with it in his own sneaky way."

"That wouldn't surprise me at all, actually."

"Well, we've seen that they're okay. Want to get out of here?" asked Renji, his hand held out.

Rukia took it and pulled him toward her, standing on tiptoes and snaking her arms up to wrap around his shoulders. "Are you thinking about any particular place?"

Renji crouched for a moment and rose again with Rukia in his arms. "Our room comes to mind."

"Hmm, sounds good." And in a flash, they were gone.

The two gods left at the door straightened from their hiding position. Uryu pushed his glasses further up his nose and cleared his throat. "I say that everything seems to be well, wouldn't you?"

The God of Silence held up his thumb in answer, and they too, left the premises to announce to the rest of the gods that the Death God had calmed down and had retired to his room.

Orihime's eyes blinked open.

She was unsurprised to find the familiar awning of the four-poster bed above her. With a clarity she had never felt before, she rose from the bed, momentarily eyeing the Death God deep in slumber, reached out to touch his cheek, but in the end, thought better of it, and made her way to the balcony. Striding along the way, and down its steps, in her mind she pulled the image of the place she sought, knowing that the house would comply to her wish—it was all so easy for her now, especially with this new-found power, knowledge and skill so effortless now that she knew she could harness it. With her realization from before, it seemed as though something in her mind broke free, all the limitations caused by her humanity had disappeared.

And yet, even so, she felt heartsick for that which she had lost.

Finally, she heard the sound of moving water, and a calm river came into view. Much like in the Death God's house, there was a dock made of stone in the God of Life's palace adjacent to the river's edge, and steps that descended into the water. If what the Scribe had told her was true, then this body of water was the bridge between the world of the gods and where she had come from.

Through the mist of night and the gurgling of the water, she saw a boat docked by the stone stair, and yet, she hesitated, foot suspended over a step. The compulsion that drove her upon awakening suddenly left, and she felt her heart torn.

If she went there, what would she find? All of those who had been close to her had passed away. The village would not be the same as it had been, and she had been much changed that she didn't think they would be welcoming; they would more than likely see her return as a curse, the Death God having discarded their sacrifice.

A shuddering exhale broke from her, her lips trembling as she clutched at her head, trying with all her might not to let the tears fall. Just as she felt at her weakest and most vulnerable, she felt a pair of arms gently wrapping themselves around her form, and she leaned against an all-too-familiar chest, the heart beating steadily beneath her ear soothing her from her sorrow. She felt his lips against her hair, and his voice, murmuring nothings, reverberating in his chest against her cheek.

As the dry tears and her shuddering breaths passed, Orihime pushed herself from his arms, and stared with an unwavering gaze into the eyes of her husband. She felt no fear now; the truth that only he could give could only strengthen the love she felt for him.

"Tell me everything." Her tone was unquestioning, neither was it commanding. And her voice, she was relieved to find, was unshaken.

"About what?" asked Ichigo puzzledly.

"About you, about the Goddess of Autumn, about the plague."

He sighed, a guilty look passing across his features as he staggered back. He turned away and leaned over the balustrade of the dock, a fingernail chipping away at the worn marble. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, at a loss for words, finding this moment of truth not easy at all.

But he felt the tug at his heart; her need and confusion immoveable objects that disturbed its rhythm, and at the back of his mind he wondered how she could've wormed her way into it so seamlessly. How far and how fast she had become his heart itself.

And this, this was the last wall between them, and with his own words he could take it down brick by brick until there was nothing separating them. With this, this last thing he could give, she would finally be able to accept everything. Surely?

The beat inside his chest accelerated, and he turned, and began.

APPENDIX

Ichigo - God of Death and the Moon
Orihime - formerly a human, now a goddess by association for marrying a god
Urahara - God of Knowledge and Invention
Renji - formerly a Scribe (servant to the gods), now a god by association for marrying a goddess
Rukia - Goddess of Snow and the Arts
Uryu - God of Archery
Sado - God of Silence
Senna - Goddess of Autumn

Thanks for reading :)
Sept/2011