A/N: Happy Friday! I hope you enjoy this slighter longer than usual chapter :)
Wednesday
4:48 p.m.
Uryu stared at the gaping hole in the ground in mild disbelief.
It was not the most destruction he had ever seen a hollow cause, by any means, though it was the most he had seen from a mere arrival. But what was even more astounding were the creatures that had just crawled out of it.
They were hollows. Or so he thought. At least, they felt like hollows, though they carried swords like soul reapers and looked like neither.
Uryu supposed they more or less resembled humans. At the very least, more than they did any other hollow he had fought, though thinking back on the beast he had just disintegrated just a few days ago, that was not saying much.
He kept his eyes trained on the two intruders. Had he removed his broken mask and covered the hole in his neck, the smallest one could have passed as a man, albeit a rather unusual one. The other one was colossal and dwarfed his companion. With the massive stature and animalistic grin of the giant and the pale white skin and apathetic, flat stare from the man, the two were as different as night and day.
Uryu took in his surroundings. He was by no means the only one in the area, but he was one of the only ones still standing. And conscious. A boy he recognized from his class, Yasutora, was there as well, crouched protectively over the prone form of a spikey haired girl whose face was tilted at angle away from him so that he couldn't make out who it was. But he noted with interest the unusual shape Yasutora's right arm had taken, held up in front of his face to ward off a kick from the giant. With his fist clenched, features knitted into a scowl, the boy swung his right arm forward and let loose a burst of energy toward the direction of the largest intruder.
It was over in less than a second. In the amount of time it took Uryu to blink, Yasutora was on his back, large pieces suddenly missing from his arm, and blood coming from just about everywhere else.
The giant grinned sadistically, bellowing his victory and going for the kill. In all the commotion, Uryu's presence had not yet been detected. But eyeing the rapidly deteriorating situation, he figured it was just about time to make himself known.
A bow appeared in his hand at just a thought, and he drew it swiftly.
Tuesday
5:05 p.m.
The clock on the bedside table flashed bright green digital numbers as a five blinked once and transformed into a six. Orihime stared at it in a daze.
She was crouched forward in the uncomfortable too-small plastic chair she had been given. She had been sitting for so long that she had shifted through just about every position possible until she had finally given up, resigning herself to the sore rear she would have when she finally left, whenever that would be.
She sighed. Orihime was tired of being in hospitals.
Even for something as minor as a broken wrist that had forced her best friend into a hospital room for a few days in the middle of her karate tournament, and even though Tatsuki had dealt with everything with her usual stubborn optimism, Orihime had still hated to see her in that room, surrounded by those sterile white walls.
And here they were again. It wasn't the same hospital, but it could have been, with the same bleached walls and perfectly ironed bedsheets and furniture chosen for practicality rather than style. It brought back memories of that summer, sitting by Tatsuki's bedside, listening to her frustrations about having to forfeit the final match. Orihime would have gladly gone back to that moment.
Because losing a karate match was still better than going into a coma.
Orihime had been sitting next to Michiru in the classroom where they had their handicrafts club when she was called to the office to find out that her best friend was in the hospital and wouldn't wake up. She had actually been admitted the day before, but her mother had been understandably too distraught to remember until later that there were other people who also cared deeply about her daughter. It was just as well. Tatsuki wasn't allowed non-family visitors until a few days later, anyway.
Orihime didn't remember returning to the classroom after the phone call, but she must have, because she had her backpack on the walk home, taking slow, dragging steps out of the school yard, her feet steadily moving faster and faster of their own accord until she was flying through the giant door of the warehouse she called home, too exhausted to keep moving and too anxious to stop.
Orihime remembered two strange things about that day, other than the phone call. First, that her family members did not seem surprised by her best friend's forced visit to the hospital, merely listening to the news with grim faces and a few words of condolence.
Second, that for the first time that she could remember, Uryu had not come to the club meeting.
For Uryu Ishida, the most punctual, fastidious, dedicated student in their grade, absence from even a minor club activity was unlike him. And when he finally showed up the next day, Orihime sensed an angst that went deeper than his usual serious, antisocial disposition.
And he wasn't the only one. Ichigo, the boy Orihime had watched from a distance since their elementary school days, was noticeably grumpier and more agitated (except, of course, to Keigo—his obnoxious, lighthearted banter seeming to irritate Ichigo more than usual). And he had every reason to be. Tatsuki had been one of his best friends too. Orihime wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but something about his face told her that nothing she could say could go far enough—could reach him wherever he was.
She'd caught sight of him by accident on one of her hospital visits, her heart stopping as she put her hand on the doorknob to Tatsuki's room and paused briefly to look through the window. She froze as she glimpsed him through the glass, his back turned to her, gazing down at his prone friend. She watched him for a moment, examining his hunched shoulders, wondering how she had just now noticed the tension and weight they carried that must have been there since the day he had lost his mother. It had been so long ago that she had spoken to Tatsuki about it, that day she learned that sometimes even ghost stories contain bits of truth.
Her hand slipped away quietly from the doorknob and she continued down the hallway with the intention of lingering in the waiting room until he left. She knew Ichigo well enough to know that by nature he was rather reserved and she was not one to disturb such a private moment.
She didn't have to wait long. She heard a door down the hall quietly click shut and she pictured Ichigo leaving, his hands shoved in his pockets as he strode away. She set down the magazine she had been flipping through and stepped out of the waiting room, gently closing the door and turning around.
If she had been surprised to see him in Tatsuki's room, she was even more taken aback to see him in front of her at that moment.
The exit wasn't this way. He must have seen her as she turned away and came to look for her.
It was one of the rare moments in her life that she was lost for words.
She blinked a few moments and stuttered, "Err… Ichigo! I wasn't expecting to see you here…" She paused, unsure if she should wait for him to say something. "You must be here to see Tatsuki," she added, lamely.
He looked at her for a moment, then glanced away. "I guess I just wanted to see if she was doing alright. I heard she was getting better."
"She's doing much better!" Orihime gushed, suddenly animated. "She's already woken up from the coma and she's getting stronger and stronger every day. She's lost a few of her memories, but they're starting to come back slowly. I'm sure she'll be back to normal in no time."
Ichigo took in this information quietly, his face expressionless. He turned his gaze back to Orihime and asked suddenly, "Are you doing alright?"
Orihime was taken aback. In all the chaos surrounding Tatsuki's sudden hospitalization, there had been no one to ask about how she was doing.
"Err—I'm alright. I mean, I come visit after school every day, but I still manage to get all my homework done and everything. And we've got that big math test coming up, but I've still been able to study for it…"
"Orihime," he said disapprovingly.
She jerked her head up from where she had been absentmindedly looking at the wall while she trailed off. He was frowning slightly, unsatisfied with her answer. Of course he didn't care whether or not she was getting her homework done.
Determined, passionate Orihime, who, since she had been a toddler, could at times flaunt a stubborn streak that rivaled Hiyori's, who had the stamina to unabashedly argue with Kensei for hours, who could brazenly match Shinji in lack of manners, felt suddenly, uncharacteristically shy.
"It's alright not to smile when you aren't happy, you know."
She'd smiled anyway, reassuringly. "No really, I'm alright. I mean, getting that phone call was one of the most difficult things in my life. But she's getting better, really. And her memories are coming back, slowly I think. It's killing me, not knowing what happened. I mean, they found her in this random park outside of town! What was she even doing there? But part of me wonders if she's better off not ever remembering at all. If something traumatic happened, and remembering would just cause her more pain."
She could feel the worry and stress that she had bottled up, spilling out to this boy she had never spoken to outside of group projects.
Ichigo nodded, as if she had said the most natural thing in the world.
"I've known Tatsuki since we were both kids," he began slowly. "We studied karate together, did she tell you that?" Orihime nodded and he continued. "I remember when she met you. It was like her entire attitude changed. I mean, she was still the same hotheaded, irritating little brat, but…"
Orihime smiled wistfully. Hotheaded was an accurate word to describe the Tatsuki she'd met as a child.
"She was never the kind of person to talk about it, but I know your friendship meant the world to her. And it means that much still, you coming to visit her every day."
He had one hand behind his neck now, visibly embarrassed. Ichigo was not the most forthcoming person when it came to talking about feelings, but Orihime could tell that for some reason, he felt compelled to share now.
It had never occurred to her that the boy she had been watching surreptitiously all her life might have been paying attention to her as well.
He turned around to leave.
"Ichigo—thanks," she blurted out. It looked like he had been the one to comfort her, in the end.
He raised a casual hand in acknowledgement. "Just keep visiting her, alright?"
She nodded at his retreating figure.
Watching the rise and fall of Tatsuki's breathing, Orihime wondered, not for the first time, if she had imagined that conversation.
What she had said about Tatsuki's recovery had been true. She had woken from her coma-like state, to the relief of her parents, and Orihime had stepped aside to let them have their moment. Tatsuki did not speak to them much about the incident, claiming a foggy memory, but she had once whispered to Orihime out of the earshot of eavesdropping nurses that she had seen Chad there too.
Orihime had reeled at this information. She knew that at the time Tatsuki had been found passed on the ground, there had been others, some in worse states. But Chad had not been one of them. Though thinking back, Chad had also started missing school the same time as Tatsuki.
As she signed out in the lobby, she didn't bother asking the receptionist about him. Somehow, she knew without checking that he would not be in this hospital.
She frowned as she walked out the entrance and down the steps, deep in thought. This was the main hospital for the city. If he had been injured like Tatsuki had been, there was nowhere else he would be. She mentally kicked herself for not asking Ichigo when she ran into him earlier, but she had been too flustered to think of it. Ichigo and Chad were infamous good friends and Orihime had heard more gossip than she had wanted to about fights the pair had gotten into. Surely Ichigo would know about where his injured friend was.
She stopped. Ichigo.
Ichigo's family owned a small clinic on the other side of town. She had never been to it before, but knew where it was. Surely, Chad had to be there.
An image of the park flashed through her mind and she pushed it away. All this not knowing was eating at Orihime.
She resolved to visit Chad the next day.
Surely he would still have some of his memories.
6:49 p.m.
Uryu watched her leave the hospital.
It wasn't that he was a stalker or anything. He was just mildly concerned for the girl's safety. For someone who's spiritual pressure he could sense steadily increasing, her spiritual awareness was not growing with it.
Perhaps that inability had saved her that day when the attacks happened. The day when Uryu realized, in fact, that there were things in the universe he was wrong about. Days later, he still could not shake the disgust he felt all the way to his bones.
The day those two monsters came, those maskless hollows wearing swords and calling themselves espadas, they exuded such a distinctive and powerful spiritual energy that he was sure had never existed before in this world.
If there had been, he would have felt it.
Uryu, of course, had sensed them immediately. And, as a quincy, it was his duty to defend the living souls of Karakura Town from hollow beasts.
His senses had led him to a small field near a park. When he got there, he was not surprised to find that the noise and tremor from the crash had drawn others there as well, people unfortunate enough to be close by and curious about the commotion. They lay unconscious, scattered about the field, and judging by the looks of the intruders, he'd doubted that all of them were still breathing.
It had taken Kurosaki too long to get there.
It wasn't that he needed the help or anything. But he would have preferred to spend the least amount of time possible in the company of those creatures and he figured joining forces with Kurosaki would end the battle just a little bit sooner.
After he had finally arrived and they had argued briefly and then reluctantly joined forces, and after Kurosaki had been beaten around quite a bit, even for him, the mysterious former-soul-reaper-now-shop-owner Uryu had seen one time showed up suddenly with another woman in tow, and after they rescued Kurosaki and brought the situation under control, Uryu had discreetly ducked out and pulled out his phone.
As soon as the line connected, he began to break down the situation quickly, barking out the location and snapping his phone shut, not giving that man any time to harass him or pester him with his stupid insightful questions. He assumed that the party would have dispersed and the intruders either chased away or taken care of by the time the ambulances he requested got there, and he had been right. The situation had been taken care of and the injured transferred to hospitals quickly and discreetly, with minimal public uproar. At least Ryuken Ishida was good for one thing.
He didn't know who the intruders were, where they were from, or why they were there. He wanted to care less than he did, but he knew better than to assume that they would never be back.
But he had no idea just how momentous that encounter would be—that it would force into motion a chain of events that would start with a heated meeting between other so called "espada" and coalesce into an unsavory blue-haired character with dubious intentions deciding to make an impromptu trip to the world of the living.
With a jolt, Uryu suddenly realized Orihime had turned off from her path home. His eyes narrowed. He didn't need to be able to sense her to know where she was going.
He followed.
7:18 p.m.
Orihime stopped at the edge of the small field. There was a park nearby, but it was getting dark, and it was empty.
She didn't know why she was here, or what she was expecting to find. Tatsuki had come to this place on that day, though she couldn't explain why. She used to play soccer here when she had been younger, but hadn't come back for years. It had been a school day and she had been on her way home. There was no reason for her to come.
And there was no reason for Orihime to be here now. It was getting dark, too dark to even make out the massive crater in the earth she knew was just up ahead. She was going to be late getting home, and Kensei was going to be mad.
Orihime hurried back to the road, feeling an inexplicable relief at the sight of street lights. She sighed and slowed her pace.
Just as she was starting to feel comfortable in the routine of walking home and getting lost in thought, she began to feel a creeping sensation up the back of her neck, and she glanced around to ascertain that she was not being followed as her senses were warning her.
The streetlights seemed suddenly less friendly and the shadows they cast on the ground more like sharp, menacing teeth pulled back into grins. Orihime berated herself for having such an overactive imagination.
But then, before she knew what was happening, out of one the teeth materialized a form that looked quite solid.
With a white jacket open over a bare chest and a wide helmet wrapped partially in bandages and pulled over one of his eyes, the figure was like nothing Orihime had ever seen before.
She broke into a cold sweat as the figure looked in her direction.
He grinned.