A/N: Woot! Finally starting to transition into the next arc. Let me know what you thought!

8 A.O (After Orihime)

No one had ever loved anything more than Orihime loved drawing, Kensei mused. It was summer break, and it seemed to him that was all she wanted to do to fill her time. Some days she filled paper after paper, the rejects crumpled in a pile under her chair. Other days she spent hours on one piece and presented them proudly to whoever happened to be in the proximity. She hung them up everywhere: on the fridge, on every cabinet, and one time Kensei was startled and slightly troubled to find one taped to the back of his closet.

He even had to pull her away when it was time for meals, and forgetting to eat was certainly not a problem Orihime usually had. But her imagination was endless and she wanted to draw everything—unicorns, robots, fairies, and Kensei—usually in the same picture.

She spent several hours creating a family portrait, making each of the vizard take turns posing or spying on the ones who complained. Kensei kicked her out of the bathroom more than once when he caught her watching him brush his teeth, her pencil moving furiously across her sketchbook. Likewise, Hiyori had on more than one occasion woken up from a nap on the couch to spot a blur of orange darting out of the room.

Mashiro hung up the drawing on the fridge when it was done. It was an amateur drawing from a ten-year-old, but what was important was that they were all in it. Orihime practically glowed with all of the praise she received. Kensei also gave his share of compliments in his usual gruff way, noting with a twinge of amusement that she had managed to capture Hiyori's scowl (that she apparently wore even while asleep), Shinji's weird goofy smile, and how massive Hachi was compared to the rest of them. But, despite the affection he felt for Orihime and therefore all of her weird random art, he found himself averting his eyes from the picture as much as possible for the next few weeks after waking up from a particularly disturbing nightmare in which he had gone to the fridge to get a midnight snack and woke up in a cold sweat instead. He had to go look at the picture in the kitchen right then to reassure himself that it in fact had just been a dream and that bone white masks had not been painted carefully over each of their faces—all nine of them.

9 A.O.

It was Sunday, and Orihime was spending her afternoon as she usually did: flipping through manga and watching her family members spar. She had once thought about asking to learn, but lost interest when her own powers never developed.

Hachi was the only one who seemed to share her disinterest in sword fighting. She knew he owned a blade, but had seen it rarely and seen him use it even less frequently. Hachi's power seemed to lay in the strange phenomena he called "kido" and that was where he focused the bulk of his attention. Orihime liked to watch him practice sometimes.

Hiyori lay at the other end of the spectrum. The girl was bloodthirsty. She was wild and violent when she fought and it seemed to Orihime that her family members furtively drew straws when she demanded a match, which she did often, more frequently than anyone else.

"Why does Hiyori like to fight so much?" she asked Shinji one evening while they relaxed on the couch.

"It's because she has the most angst to get out of her system," Shinji answered, yawning.

"What's angst?"

"It's something you'll find out when you're a teenager."

10 A.O.

"Kensei, why do you have a 69 tattooed on your chest?" Orihime asked one day. She was watching him spar with Love when he removed his shirt in his exertion.

"Well, it's because—" he began to answer.

"No wait, let me guess. That's how many girlfriends you have. That's how old you'll be when you die. That's how many bean buns you want to eat right now."

He gave her a flat stare. "The reason is—"

"Oooh, I want to try!" Mashiro joined in. "That's how many toes you have on your left foot. That's how many times a day you brush your teeth. That's how many—"

Kensei sheathed his sword and pulled on his shirt. "Why do I even bother?" he muttered, walking away.

11 A.O.

Rose and Hachi were chatting good-humoredly while washing the dishes after lunch. Just as Rose was handing a plate to Hachi to dry, they heard a loud crash and an aggravated shout. Rose dropped the plate in surprise and Love stepped in the kitchen just as it shattered on the floor.

Love walked over to grab the broom as he remarked, "It would seem that it finally happened."

"Already?" asked Rose in disbelief. "So soon?"

Hachi glanced between the two men, aware that he was missing out on a crucial piece of information. "What's soon? What happened?"

"Orihime is finally taller than Hiyori," Love announced gravely. "By a centimeter," he added, as another enraged bout of yelling came from down the hall.

"Doesn't sound like she's taking it well," Hachi remarked pleasantly.

"She's the only one," Love replied as Orihime burst into the room.

"I beat Hiyori!" she announced panting and out of breath, as if she had just sprinted a 5K. Or evaded being chased by a tiny, blonde, angry vizard who just discovered she was back to being the shortest in the family. "Next is Lisa! And then Mashiro! And then someday Hachi!"

"Really? You want to be as tall as Hachi?" Rose asked, surprised. He looked over at the family picture on the fridge and imagined Orihime taking up as much space as the largest vizard. The mental picture was rather comical, and he tried and failed to fight back a grin.

"Sure, then I could get to school faster! And if I were really tall, then I could strap two cars to my feet and roller blade there! But then there wouldn't be any room for me in the classroom, so I'd have to sit outside and listen through the window. And I'd have to buy a special giant sized pencil, and notebook, and…" she rambled on as Love handed her the broom and wordlessly pointed to the broken dish on the floor.

12 A.O.

"Hey Kensei, can I get a tattoo like you?" Orihime asked. "I already know what I want to—"

"No."

And that was the end of that discussion.

13 A.O.

"Where did Orihime go?" Love asked suddenly, looking up from his manga.

"She's on a date," Mashiro answered. "She'll be back later—"

"She WHAT?!" roared Kensei from the corner of the room where he was polishing his sword. He brandished it at the green-haired woman dangerously.

"Just kidding," Mashiro giggled. "She's at her friend Tatsuki's house. You're so gullible, Kensei."

Kensei rubbed his forehead as he walked to his room, muttering obscenities.

Friday

3:37 p.m.

It was the last day of the spring semester and Orihime and Tatsuki were walking home, discussing how they would spend their summer. Tatsuki had a major karate tournament in Tokyo, and Orihime was to go with. It would be the first time she left town without any of her family members with her. It had taken some wheedling, but Kensei had finally given in. She was fifteen now, after all.

It would be only one of many firsts. It was her first semester of high school, which she had just finished. She did indeed discover what angst was—if not through her own personal experience, then vicariously through her classmates. Tatsuki had calmed down somewhat since the day she pushed Orihime's bully to the ground in elementary school, but only somewhat, and while she was just as athletic and assertive as ever, she focused her energy in destroying everyone in just one sport this time: karate.

It was also the first time Orihime and Tatsuki expanded their social circle beyond just the two of them and Michiru. They had added Ryo, a tall, slender girl who Orihime secretly thought of as the "Tatsuki of track" and Chizuru, a slightly obnoxious, eccentric girl who took a sudden, intense interest in Orihime. The start of the new school year also brought new students, and Rukia, a transfer student from a nearby school, also frequently joined them for lunch. She was always very polite and reserved and stayed on the fringes of their circle as if afraid of giving too much of herself or getting too invested. Orihime wondered if Rukia's occasional aloofness stemmed from the belief that she didn't belong, and Orihime, being the compassionate, tenderhearted soul that she was, did all she could to subtly reassure her otherwise. She felt a strange camaraderie with the girl and wondered if she, too, was hiding something that she could share with no one else.

Except, perhaps, Ichigo. The only thing that was obvious to her and to the rest of her class was that those two spent an awful lot of time together. There was a lot of speculation over whether or not the pair were dating, but Tatsuki, a close friend of Ichigo, denied it, and Orihime likewise did not believe the gossip. Still, the fact remained that the two had gotten very close very quickly, and Orihime was certain there must be some explanation for why they would often jump out of their seats in perfect synchronization and run out of the classroom shouting excuses.

Orihime was sure there was an explanation. And she was willing to accept even the most outlandish story—after all, she had seen some pretty strange things herself.

And, only a few days before the end of the semester, it was her first time to realize how completely a person could be erased from her life. Because even though three people were absent that day, only two were speculated over. And when people wondered out loud where that delinquent Kurosaki kid was and what that standoffish Ishida boy was doing, no one mentioned the quiet, dark-haired girl's name. Not even Tatsuki.

Orihime received a strange look from her best friend when she mentioned her name, as well as several inquiries as to whether or not she was feeling alright. Orihime was used to having her sanity questioned (she sometimes questioned it herself, honestly), but not like this.

Instead, Orihime was left to speculate about how short her classmates' memories were. She had a feeling that desk would remain empty for a long time.