A/N: Next chapter! Little Orihime is starting to grow up. Btw, if you don't know who Anpanman is, you should do a quick google search. As much as Orihime loves all things related to bread, I feel like she probably would have obsessed over the show as a kid.

Let me know what you thought :)

3 A.O. (After Orihime)

Saturday

6:16 p.m.

"No Anpanman, be careful!" Orihime shouted. "He's right behind you!" She leaned forward, desperately trying to warn him.

"She really gets into it, doesn't she?" Lisa commented to Love, watching Orihime crouch in front of the TV, face inches away from the screen.

"Watching her is more entertaining than the show itself," Love replied.

"Quick, Uncle Jam has to bake you a new head!" Anpanman had selflessly given part of his red bean filled head to a starving boy, saving the child but leaving him powerless to face the evil Baikinman, and Orihime was anxious for him. She knew he needed to get back to the baker as soon as possible so that he could replace his damaged head for a freshly baked one, giving him the power to vanquish Baikinman and save the village.

"Time for dinner, Orihime. And what did I tell you about being so close to the TV?" Kensei scolded, the exasperation in his voice making quite obvious that he had given the reminder more than once.

The engrossed five-year-old didn't answer, completely immersed in Anpanman's plight.

Orihime had discovered her love for the red bean filled superhero one day while Shinji was flipping through the channels. She had shrieked in delight upon discovering that superheroes could be made out of her favorite food group, startling Shinji so much that he fell off the couch. Ever since then, Orihime had been head over heels for the animated hero, begging every one of her family members to rent every single DVD that Anpanman appeared in, and insisting that they also watch them with her.

They usually complied, some of them more reluctantly than others. Orihime was left to spend the next hour in Anpanman bliss, too absorbed to notice that her TV partner was paying more attention to their manga than her beloved superhero.

Orihime liked to imagine that she was Anpanman. She would tie one of her blankets around her neck and chase Shinji around the kitchen with a ladle. She pretended that Kensei was Uncle Jam and would demand a that he pretend to bake new head so that she could vanquish the villain, to which he would grudgingly agree while covertly rolling his eyes. One time, she had even broken into the cabinet and rubbed jelly all over her face and neck before Uncle Jam made her wash off and threw her in her room so he could make dinner in peace.

Still, raising a child took a lot of trial and error, as the vizard were coming to discover. This came to light one evening just before dinner when Orihime innocently walked up to Kensei as he was cooking soup. She stood and watched him deftly peel carrots for a moment before speaking.

"I wish your head was a red bean bun like Anpanman so I could eat it."

They unanimously decided to limit her television time after that.

6:28 p.m.

"Eat it, Orihime."

Orihime sat stubbornly, her mouth in a tight line.

"I'm not sitting with you at this table forever, so hurry up and eat!"

Orihime alternated glares between Kensei and the steamed vegetables that lay innocently on her plate. She poked them with her chopsticks.

"They're too squishy!" she declared.

Kensei took a deep breath and scowled at the ceiling, as if wordlessly asking for a higher power to grant him the patience to deal with this obstinate five-year-old.

All of the vizard took turns taking care of Orihime. Even Hiyori would reluctantly agree to spend a few hours with her (though Shinji secretly thought most of the grumbling was just for show). But it had not taken long for Kensei to take on the majority of the responsibility for the child. After having to ban Lisa from lending the girl magazines and watching Orihime emulate Hiyori pick her nose (among many other bad habits), he grudgingly decided to take things into his own hands.

It was a decision that he questioned frequently, especially now as he was sitting across the table staring down a five-year-old with a stubborn streak that rivaled Hiyori's.

"You should have just given her red bean buns and swapped out the bean paste with vegetables. The way she inhales them, they'd be in her stomach by the time she noticed," offered Lisa.

"Don't say the 'R' word in front of her!" hissed Kensei.

"Bean buns! Bean buns!" Orihime began to chant, slamming her tiny fists on the table at the same time.

"See what you did?" The white-haired vizard gave an exasperated sigh, resting his head in his hands.

Shinji tried next. "Orihime, if you don't eat your vegetables, you'll be tiny forever. Just look at Hiyori."

"Say that to my face, Shinji!" Hiyori jumped up, ready for war.

It was Love who saved the day.

"Orihime, didn't I tell you? I bought those vegetables just for you. They were grown specially to give you superpowers just like Anpanman. If you finish everything, you'll be able to—"

Orihime's plate was empty in seconds, and Love was excused from dish duty.

Sunday

1:13 a.m.

Orihime was having a weird dream.

She had been taken hostage and imprisoned by giant vegetables, the very same that she had initially rejected at dinner with disgust, pushing the plate away from her and sticking her tongue out. They were trying to convince her to eat them, lecturing her about nutrition and how important they were for her health. Orihime noted with mild confusion that their voices sounded a lot like Kensei's. She wondered if she concentrated hard enough, she could turn them into red bean buns. It was her dream, after all.

The cartoonish vegetables didn't change, but her focusing must have done some good, because all of a sudden Anpanman materialized and swooped in to rescue her, his red cape billowing regally as he landed. The vegetables popped out of existence and Anpanman moved to take off his head and offer part of it to Orihime to eat. She reached out her hands gratefully in acceptance. But when he removed his head, he was no longer Anpanman, he was somebody else, a man with long, dark hair and a friendly smile. Orihime recognized this man. He was the comforting man she had once known in a previous life, the one who used to sing to her to drown out the angry accusations and hurled insults barely muted by paper-thin walls.

Her vision lost some of its dream-like quality as the sound of raised voices began to swell in the background, filling her with a familiar terror and urge to hide. But the man was murmuring a lullaby in an attempt to soothe her and distract her from the upsetting noise.

The voices began to fade and Orihime's anxiety faded with it. She looked up at the singing man curiously, who smiled back reassuringly and continued his quiet lullaby. Orihime's eyelids began to droop against her will. The last thing she saw before her dream ended was the man's face, his smile bright, but his eyes filled with an aching sadness. Orihime wondered why he looked so distraught when she was right here and everything was as it should be.

The man's face vanished as Orihime regained consciousness.

It would not be the last time she dreamed of him.