A/N: A teeny tiny chapter to get you through the week.
7 A.O. (After Orihime)
"How much further do we have to walk?" Shinji grumbled, dragging his feet.
He was lagging behind everyone else, and Love slowed down to keep pace with him out of pity. They could spy Orihime up ahead, her vibrant hair the fiery orange beacon they were following. Kensei walked half a step behind her, his hands shoved casually in his pockets, easily keeping up with her hurried pace.
"We're almost there!" Orihime called over her shoulder, far enough away that they had to strain to hear her.
"Didn't you go with her when she checked the public records?" Love asked reprovingly. "Or were you goofing off instead of helping research?"
"I—er, there were a lot of other things going on and it was hard to…" he trailed off feebly, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.
"Found it!" Orihime announced triumphantly, and Love hurried to catch up to her, leaving Shinji to struggle after them.
By the time Shinji rounded the corner they were already inside, though the low, metal gate had been left open for him. With the slabs of black stone stacked uniformly in even rows, the delicate sprigs of Japanese star anise gently placed in thin, metal vases in front of them, and the faint smell of incense hanging in the air, there was no way to mistake the aesthetic appeal of a Japanese cemetery.
Shinji stood in the entrance for a moment, taking it in. Memories of memories flickered at the edges of his consciousness, but he let them go. He had long since given up trying to remember being alive. He was dead, and there was no getting around it, no matter how much his family looked like living, breathing humans to the rest of the outside world, no matter how hard they played at being alive. For all he knew, one of these tombstones could have been his. There was only one living soul in this graveyard, and she was currently walking up and down the rows, hunting through the names carved delicately on the charcoal black stone of each grave.
"Orihime," Kensei spoke suddenly, eyes fixed on the monument in front of him. She went to stand next to him, nodding once as she quickly read the name on the stone.
"Inoue," she confirmed. "This is it."
It had been almost a year after the incident before she finally felt ready to visit the cemetery. Kensei agreed when she asked. There was no reason for him to forbid her from going, but he also wasn't about to let her go alone. Love volunteered to tag along as well and Shinji was also roped into coming, and to help her search through the public documents to find the correct location.
Orihime appreciated their company, as she did every member in her family, even the ones a little harder to love. But Shinji knew the real reason Orihime was not at the graveyard alone. Though the ghosts stubborn enough to stay behind in the world of the living could wander the world freely, they were usually drawn to one of two locations: the place where they breathed their last, and the place where their earthly body was laid to rest, where their friends and relatives could grieve for them and the souls could find release in their mourning.
Kensei knew that, and he was not ready for Orihime to meet any more spirits she was related to. At least, not while she was alone.
Orihime bent down and gently placed the delicate sprigs of star anise into the thin, metal vase, one flower for each family member. She stared at the grave, silently mouthing the names as she read. They were foreign to her.
The visit wasn't sad for her. She didn't think of them as her family—after all, she had formally rejected them the moment she had refused to take the photograph from Kensei. They felt more like distant relatives that she vaguely remembered meeting once (aside from the one that she vividly remembered meeting), and had moved far away. Though she no longer gave them the honor of considering them family, she was still here to pray for their peaceful rest, and to find her own sense of closure. Just because she didn't love them didn't mean she had to hate them, either. She had come to pay her respects, whether they deserved them or not, and move on.
If she was honest with herself though, the real grave that she was here to visit was the one that was empty. Though her body had not been found with the others, she had obviously been assumed dead anyway and given a marker just in case. The words on the stone read Orihime Inoue, though the person it had been carved for may as well have been an entirely different human being. And she would have been, if that little girl had grown up in that household, in that family. She would have been completely unrecognizable compared to the Orihime that was alive now. That Orihime had died that day and had been reincarnated into the girl standing in front of her grave.
Orihime let the relief sink in that it had been Hachi that day who had found her, that Mashiro and Lisa had gone to buy her clothes, that Kensei made her eat her vegetables. That Shinji sat through TV shows with her, that Hiyori threw temper tantrums, that Rose made her listen to weird music, that Love made bad puns. They were weird, and she loved them for it.
Orihime looked at the grave one last time and announced that she was ready to leave. Kensei regarded her silently with an insightful look. Shinji complained that they had just gotten there and that he was still tired. Love berated him for "being insensitive of the atmosphere."
Still, Shinji was the only one to notice that there had been four flowers placed in that vase. One for each family member who had passed on.