I will be honest with you, this is one of my favourite chapters that I've written. Not to sound like a broken record, but please leave a review/favorite if you liked this story! The best part about writing fanfiction is the community and the camaraderie, so I'd love to hear from those of you that have been reading a lot, but haven't commented yet! And those of you who've been here since the conception, let me know if you like how it's going so far.
Kahlil Gibran's 'On Love' has been referenced and paraphrased, later on in this chapter. Peace!
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One month later
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Winter in Seireitei was secluded, the high grounds sheathed to the brim with pure, white snow. The withering bracken and newly-growing ivy along the spires of the penitentiary were signs of change, signs that it had been nearly a month since Ichigo and the others had escaped.
Orihime would have wished to say that things had gotten better, but it hadn't. The fear of being made had only reduced to a faint murmur that still lingered in her heart as she went about her work at the infirmary. True to Renji's words, there had been a massive shift in the atmosphere of Seireitei – both people and policy-wise. Only days ago, Tetsuzaemon Iba had been asked to hand in his badge and pack up his things.
"It's alright, Dr. Inoue," he'd said good-naturedly as they had hugged. "Man's gotta do what he's gotta do."
Though, when he had reluctantly said goodbye to Dr. Isane, Orihime felt awful. He was going to be missed dearly, though he definitely wasn't the only one. Nearly any and all employees who'd even had a whisper of something to do with the escape had been asked to move to greener pastures.
Orihime herself had avoided a similar fate only by a hair's breadth, her status as the prison doctor rather sacrosanct in that they couldn't find any viable replacements with similar credentials.
Abarai Renji, too, had made it out safe, but the sorrow of everyone who'd been made to leave weighed heavily on the shoulders of those who chose to stay. He'd been busy with the investigation, but much of the heat on the case had fizzled out by the middle of December. The trail had gone cold.
Rather, there was simply no trail to follow. It was like the men had vanished without a trace. And as snow began setting in and leads began to wither out, even the police force had reluctantly withdrawn the scent-tracking hounds from the premises.
That wasn't to say there weren't any new leads; Orihime heard from some of the other staff that calls came in nearly every day with tips or sightings, but none of them had borne any captures. Even the papers had taken to burying the then-sensational story in tiny columns on page three, only a miniscule of attention compared to what it had only a month ago. The media had tried every angle – from family, to history, to crime scene – only to turn up empty on anything that could grab the public's interest. Even fear tactics had eventually drained out.
"It sure was lucky you weren't here that night, Doctor-san," Hanataro said to her, over his mug of hot chocolate. "God knows what would've happened!"
Orihime sipped her own drink, staring out into the grounds vacantly. Sure enough, her job had only barely been saved, but she often wondered what could have happened that night if she had stayed. She'd turned over all the possibilities in her head – from saving Ichigo's life, to landing up in hot water herself – but they all seemed as distant and liminal as a dream. The choices they had all made had cemented them where they were; she only hoped that Ichigo's had kept him alive.
"I still can't believe the warden laid off so many people," Orihime muttered, nursing her cup as she sat on the edge of the counter. "So many jobs are gone – especially now, in the winter." She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering of the families that had been affected by this change.
"I'm sure they'll find better offers," Hanataro said kindly, clapping her on the shoulder. He picked up a little kit and jerked his head northwards. "Want to help me groom Ukitake-san today? You look like you could use some distraction."
Orihime sighed, shaking her head. "I think I'm going to get some refills from the vending machine," she said, straightening up. She gave Hanataro a faint smile. "I'll be back soon, though."
Hanataro nodded, then bit his lip. "You know, Dr. Inoue," he began slowly, "It's alright to miss him, even if he's a con."
Orihime's eyes widened, her heartbeat flaring rapidly. "What do you mean?"
"Kurosaki-san, I meant," he replied, with a shrug. "You two were close, right? If you're upset about not being able to help him anymore, you shouldn't be. I'm sure whatever you could give him in his time here helped him heal from whatever he was going through."
"I–" Orihime paused. "You think so?"
Hanataro clicked his teeth. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I'd crap my pants if I ever encountered one of them out in the streets," he said, and chuckled nervously when Orihime let out a laugh. "But yeah. Wherever Kurosaki-san is, I'm sure he's grateful for everything you tried to do for him. The others, too. It's nice to not feel alone, even if it's just for a little while." He made a face. "Though I wouldn't want Hirako-san to owe me anything, if I were you."
Orihime giggled. "Point taken, Hanataro," she said sweetly, taking his cup from him. "I'll go get those refills."
She took the long way out, traipsing up the corridor to the vending machine. The familiar sounds of swinging doors and idle conversation of the day doctors once used to be a source of comfort for her. Now, it just felt...lonely. It had never occurred to her just how tranquil it had been, that one hour a day Ichigo used to drop by.
"It's nice to not feel alone, even if it's just for a little while."
She turned over Hanataro's words in her head with a grimace. That hadn't just been true in Ichigo's case. It was the exact same thing for her, too.
Turning the corner around one of the long, administrative sections, she saw a familiar figure coming out of the warden's office. When he saw her, his eyes brightened.
"Ah! ," Shunsui said, coming up to her with a wave. "Fancy running into you. I'd been meaning to stop by your office lately."
"Kyoraku-san, hi!" she greeted, "How come?"
He flashed a set of papers in front of her. "Release forms," he explained, to the curious look on her face. "Looks like all that good behavior paid off because they're letting me out around Christmastime this year."
"Oh, Kyoraku-san, that's wonderful!" Orihime cheered, ignoring odd looks from spectators as she hugged Shunsui around his middle. When they came apart, she smiled brightly. "That's brilliant! I'm so happy for you, well done." Then, a sudden thought occurred to her. She turned over her shoulder to peer through the glass door, watching the limp form of Ukitake as Hanataro meticulously combed his hair. "But what about…?"
"Oh, I'm taking the old chap with me," Shunsui explained, following her line of vision. "My niece runs a hospice – lovely girl, that one. We've already got a slot booked for Jushiro. Nice and quiet place by the mountains, so he can take his grand ol' time and recover with whatever he needs."
Orihime felt her eyes grow misty. "That's sweet," she whispered, clasping her hands together. "Do let me know if there's anything I can do for you two, once you're outside."
Shunsui patted her head twice, a wide grin on his face. "Oh, you're too kind," he said. "Pretty girl like you, I'm sure you've got lots of young suitors you'd rather be seeing than two crabby old men."
Orihime turned pink. "Just the one, Kyoraku-san," she admitted quietly. Shunsui grinned knowingly, walking with her down the corridor. When they reached a break-off point, she halted and blurted, "How do you do it?"
He raised a brow. "Hmm?"
"How do you wait so long for your love to come back to you without – without knowing for sure that it will?" she asked, too embarrassed to meet his eyes as she spoke the one question she'd been too afraid of asking in fear of seeming doubtful or silly.
Shunsui scratched his beard pensively. "You ever heard of Kahil Gibran, doctor?"
Orihime blinked. "Huh?"
"Brilliant poet," Shunsui explained. "I think he said something along the lines of 'love is to be wounded and to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn and give thanks for another day of loving.'" He turned to Orihime. "It takes work, love and patience. More so, at your age, when everyone's getting settled down and you feel like you're barely out of your diapers." He pinched her cheek teasingly, chuckling when she swatted his hand away. "You wait, if it's worth it. Or you forget about it and nab some nice businessman down the street. Marry his money and stare distantly into the ocean sometimes, shaking your head when your children ask you 'What's wrong, Mother?' as you remember the love you lost. Is he out there? Is he still thinking of me?"
Orihime gaped at him for several moments, bewildered. Then, watching the curve of his poorly-hidden smirk, it dawned on her he was being facetious.
"Kyoraku-san, you're horrible!" she squealed, whacking him lightly as he laughed at her.
"You should have seen your face, Doctor-chan," he replied, fanning himself with his hands as he watched her face speed from red to purple in embarrassment. "You and my niece would get along quite well, you know."
"Oh, I'm sure you're a right menace with her too," Orihime huffed indignantly, as they came up to the mouth of the infirmary. "Thank you, though. Do send me your address once you're out of here. I love to keep up correspondences with my patients."
Shunsui's eyebrows dramatically rose to the roof. "Oh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days? Correspondences?"
Orihime spluttered. "Ky-Kyoraku-san!"
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It was about a week later, when Orihime received a phone call. The woman on the other end sounded charming, her tone airy as she said,
"Hello-o, am I speaking to Dr. Inoue Orihime?"
"Yes, who's this?" Orihime asked, lifting the trunk of her car with one hand as she balanced her phone between her head and her shoulder. She had early been ready to drive home when the call came.
"Ugh, thank god. I swear that Ichigo makes me do so much work for him. Did you know how many directories I had to sift through to find your –"
"Ichigo?" Orihime interrupted, before her eyes quickly darted around the parking area to see if she'd been heard. When it was obvious the coast was clear, she quickly sat down on the back of her car and spoke into the phone, hushed, "Where– sorry, what's this about?"
There was an annoyed huff on the other end. "This is Rangiku Matsumoto. You know, his lawyer?" she explained. "Did he not tell you I would be in touch? That would be so typical of him!"
Orihime clutched her phone with her other hand, heartbeat rapidly picking up pace. "No, no, he did," she said quickly. "I'm sorry, I've just been really worried and loopy, so please forgive me for being so out of it. Is he alright? Has he called?"
Rangiku chuckled. "Okay, hold your horses– one at a time, please," she said, though she sounded more amused than annoyed. "I don't know what's up with him, sorry, I just know there's a letter here addressed to you, it arrived this morning. If you could tell me when you're free to pick it up–"
"Yes," Orihime breathed immediately, already standing up to twist her keys into the car door. "I can come right now, if that's okay? I just got off work."
"I guess. You got a pen with you?"
Orihime fished around her purse, nearly dropping her phone in the process. She withdrew one and uncapped it with her teeth. "Yes, I do, Matsumoto-san."
"Just Rangiku is fine. Let me give you the address to my office, how does that sound? I'll be here until eight, later this evening, if you wanna come pick it up."
Orihime beamed happily. The prospect of a letter meant Ichigo was out there somewhere, relatively unhurt. And that he'd been trying to get in touch with her at the soonest.
"That sounds perfect, Rangiku-san."
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Rangiku Matsumoto's office was, to say the least, huge.
Orihime had driven up to a large, urban building that sat on the corner of the city square, ready to go receive her letter. It was only when she was ushered inside that she realized that her destination, a so-called office, was an entire floor. The polished glass doors, the expensive-looking plants that adorned the pathways up to the elevator – these were all indicators that Ichigo's lawyer did not work for a small firm. But when the receptionist told her Rangiku could be found on the third floor – like, the entirety of it – Orihime had balked.
While the full infirmary and the little cubby she worked in could be constituted as her own office, that still didn't make up half the space of where Rangiku worked! Bobbing her head to the elevator music, Orihime felt quite daunted at the woman she was going to meet. If she remembered right, she had looked very professional and put-together when she came to see Ichigo, all those months ago.
The elevator doors opened with a 'ding'. Orihime straightened her skirt, then began navigating her way up the lines of cubicles. Many lawyers were at their desks, on the phone or perusing a bunch of files. Some idly played solitaire on their computers. Despite not having the urgency or fast-paced environment of a hospital, she could tell that everyone in here had something to do or someplace to be.
Orihime's eyes scanned the office, until her eyes landed on the blonde that she was slated to meet. She was standing over her desk in a private cubicle, balancing the phone over her ear as she regarded the mess of paperwork on her desk. Orihime walked up to the room, then waved behind the glass door. Rangiku beckoned her in with one finger.
"No I did not aid or abet my client to escape a state-level penitentiary, Shuuhei, what kind of a half-ass lawyer do you think I am?" she was saying, as Orihime entered the air-conditioned room. "Oh, you are so going to regret saying that when I tell your boss who I caught you with last Saturday during rush hour at Hoshi's."
Orihime's eyes widened. Rangiku's lips pursed apologetically, but she motioned for Orihime to take a seat. 'Be with you in a sec,' she gestured, as Orihime plopped down in her chair.
"That's what I thought," she said, seemingly satisfied. "See you Friday? Momo's buying." There was a murmur on the other line, followed by her wide grin. "Well, if you buy, I'll consider giving you the exclusive. Now get off the line, I've got some solicitors to meet." She set the phone down.
"Hi," Orihime said, feeling suddenly shy at the prospect of meeting someone close to Ichigo, practically his family. "I'm Dr. Inoue Orihime, it's nice to meet you."
Rangiku, to her surprise, squealed. "Oh, aren't you cute!" She rushed around the desk, before yanking Orihime up from her seat to give her a tight hug. "I told Karin you were a total ten and she didn't believe me at all."
Orihime wheezed, quite overwhelmed with the floral scent and the buoyancy of the woman in front of her. Also the fact that Ichigo's family, apparently, talked about her. "I – thank you?"
"You're very welcome," she replied casually, sifting through the heap of papers on her desk. "Can I get you anything to drink? A little snack, maybe? I carry peanuts in my purse for Toshiro, he's a friend of mine."
"Oh, that's okay," Orihime said, vaguely remembering Ichigo mentioning a Toshiro, who was ten. She didn't ask how that acquaintance came about, just smiled nervously at Rangiku. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you saying you haven't been in touch with Ichigo."
"And you're damn right about that!" Rangiku said, slamming a hand on the desk before pointing it upwards. "I told Ichigo almost every day – 'tell Auntie Rangiku your problems, let her take care of this' – and what does he do?"
"Escape prison?" Orihime replied, even though the question seemed a bit rhetorical.
"Send his girlfriend a letter!" Rangiku exclaimed, oblivious to Orihime's blush. "Meanwhile, the media thinks I'm harboring him somewhere! Ridiculous. I told them if I ever saw Ichigo again, I'd boot him straight back to prison for everything he's put me and his family through, these last couple of weeks."
"How are they?" Orihime asked, softly. "Is anyone giving his sisters any trouble?"
Rangiku scoffed. "Like I'd let them," she said. "Though it has been hard for them to step out and get groceries, I'll give you that." She waved her hand dismissively. "It'll blow over. My contact in JSDF said most of them are ready to declare this a cold case already, if you can believe that. The police really spend their budget on anything but policing, huh? Bunch of pigs." She took a breather, allowing Orihime to catch up with her word barrage.
"I...can I see his letter?" Orihime asked, eyes scanning the abundance of papers on her desk like she could somehow magically spot which one had come from Ichigo. Thankfully, Rangiku fished it from her drawer and handed it out.
"I do hope you know you're committing a felony just by breathing anywhere near this," she said seriously, but when Orihime's eyes widened in utter fright, she gasped. "God, I was kidding!" She watched Orihime's shoulders loosen up. "It is a misdemeanour, though."
"Rangiku-san!"
Rangiku laughed. "Relax, I won't tell on you, I'm the cool aunt," she said, handing over the letter. "Here. I've got some paperwork to do, but you can sit in my office and read it."
Orihime reached out with trembling fingers, taking the starched white envelope in her hands. She wondered if Rangiku would think she was a weirdo if she lifted it up to smell it – just to see if she could discern where Ichigo had written from. She raised it, but when Rangiku's eyes lifted curiously from her work, she quickly lowered it and began scratching open the flap with a fierce blush.
Once the paper came free from the envelope, Orihime felt her chest hitch. She unfolded it, eyes savoring and scanning the familiar, long-scrawled handwriting she had come to be acquainted with:
Orihime,
We're safe. Where we are currently, it's safe. I wish I could tell you more, but I can't, so for now you'll have to take my word for it. We made it. We're out.
The taste of freedom is pretty surreal so far, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the taste of brine in equal measure. I don't have a return address yet, but when I do, I'll write again. I hope you're doing well. Thinking of you.
Love,
15
P.S I asked Rangiku not to read this. If she gave any indication that she did, let me know. I'll risk getting caught and come down there myself to kick her ass.
As Orihime read them over and over again, she felt herself quickly memorizing it word-for-word. The lines were few, but they were so Ichigo she felt a huge breath of relief escape her. Despite his utter caution, he'd checked off every worry she had had time to come up with, this one month that she waited for word from him.
He knows me so well, she thought. She hadn't even realized it, but large, splotchy tears had fallen from her cheeks – straight onto the fluttery paper.
When she looked up, she noticed Ramgiku watching her with warm eyes. And despite her embarrassment over crying like that, the swell of relief in her chest was far, far more superior.
"Say, doctor," Rangiku said, shutting her folder before shooting Orihime a grin. "Wanna head out for a drink?"
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The next letter had come about two and a half weeks after his first. This time, with a raunchy postcard for some roadside love hotel. Her face flamed at the provocative image of the girl on the card, but she knew Ichigo had just done it to tease her, considering he himself was a bit shy. She had sniffed it, however, catching the faint scent of gasoline and tarmac. A life on the road. The only difference now was that there was a neat little return address on the back, pointing to a ferry service somewhere in Hisaka.
Sitting in Tatsuki's living room now, she couldn't help but read it again.
Orihime,
Sorry for the long delay between letters. It took us a little longer than we thought to get to our destination. We're here now, though, so here I sit, by the waterside – writing to you.
Our friends married last week. It was pretty quiet, just the three of us and Abuelo – a quaint service. You would have liked it. They forced me to wear a suit for the wedding, but Four-Eyes (prick) says it's dangerous to send across pictures; we're being careful with mail, so no pictures for you, I'm afraid. You'll just have to use your imagination.
We're still laying pretty low, but the difference is that I have a return address now. You can write to me, if you want. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted to say to you, but when I sit down to write, I can never put into words what I want to convey. I was never good with words, anyway, but you knew that.
Anyway, how are you? I hope they didn't give you too much trouble, back at SSP. It's been a long and hard month for me, not knowing how you've been or what you've been up to. It's weird, because when I first met you, I didn't think we'd be as close as we are now. Funny, how things work out. It's cliche, I know – stop grinning.
I hope you're doing well. I hope you're happy, as you always are. And if you're not, I hope you've got a shoulder to cry on.
Did you like the postcard I sent you? I figured you would. Thinking of you, as always.
Love,
15
"You know, I don't think that letter's changed all that much since the last time you read it," Tatsuki said, coming up to the armchair where Orihime was sprawled over. When Orihime gave her an indignant glare, she sighed. "What's he written in there that's so great anyway?" She tried to peer into the paper, but Orihime held it protectively to her chest. "Ugh. Okay, be like that. His handwriting looks like shit, by the way."
Orihime tutted, then went back to smiling at her letter. "I don't know what to write back," she admitted. "There's so much I want to say to him and not enough…"
"Paper?" Tatsuki droned, with an exaggerated eye roll. She sank into the chair opposite Orihime and gave her a solemn look. "Listen, can I ask you something?"
Orihime looked up curiously, nodding as she set down the letter in her lap.
"What's your endgame here?" she asked, with a sigh. "Drop everything and rendezvous at some holiday destination when the heat dies down? Walk off into the sunset and make babies or whatever?" She paused wearily, like she was debating saying what was coming next. "I'll be honest, that doesn't sound like you at all. You've put so much on the line to help him already, I don't know if I like the idea of you going all hermit because you think you'll never love like that again or something."
Orihime shook her head. "He never asked me to do that," she murmured, staring at her hands. "And yes, I still want to wake up every morning and do my job, but that doesn't make it any less...lonely." She met Tatsuki's gaze. "Those aren't mutually exclusive, Tatsuki. I'm allowed to like my life as it is and still want him in it."
"So...what?"
Orihime bit her lip, resting her head on the arm of the chair with a heavy sigh. "I don't know," she said softly, "We haven't promised each other anything."
She thought a lot about it, about what she would have answered if he had asked; but Ichigo respected her too much to tie her down like that and she knew, grand and whimsical as it would have been, there was no telling who they would be in the future. How they would change.
Tatsuki got up to pat her on the head. "I'm sure you'll figure it out, take your time," she assured gently. "Either way, I'm here for you, okay? I want you to know that."
Orihime smiled. "Of course." She watched after Tatsuki's retreating figure, the low buzz of the television thrumming in the background. Reaching out to the empty sheet of paper resting on the coffee table in front of her, she picked up her pen. She still had no idea what to write to him, but she figured the best way to go about it was heart-first, as with everything else.
Crouching by the table, she watched the ink glisten with the first words she began to write.
Dear 15,
Have you heard of Kahlil Gibran's poetry? I think you'll find it to your liking...