Disclaimer dubious geography.
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The first and last thing Kurosaki Ichigo saw before he slept was, almost always, the ceiling. Therefore, it should've been a logical conclusion that when he looked up from his hammock and saw an endless blue sky, he was a little disconcerted.
Far from the smog and sea mist of the penitentiary, Hisaka was clear and unassuming in its disposition. If Ichigo traced the horizon from one rocky cliff to the little bay on the east, he was sure he'd spanned the entirety of the town that was tucked away in the island.
In one hand, he clutched a wet rag, nursing the tender wound on his side. Securing supplies was easy enough on the way here. Vigilance had all but thinned out, the farther away Ichigo and his friends got from the city. A little disguise here, a pitstop at the pharmacy there and his rib was secure. On Ishida's suggestion, he'd even gone ahead and bought a new chest pad.
In the other was a letter from Orihime. He'd read it three times already - nearly torn it to shreds the first time it arrived, anxious to know her state of being. When he'd had time to process her safety, he'd calmly read it again. And again. And then delivered an abridged version to Chad and Ishida, who were both rather concerned about her.
Ichigo had never seen Orihime's handwriting beyond the occasional prescription, but the neat, block letters put the entirety of doctors all over the world to shame. Her writing was open and free, earnest in its expression as she had always been. It sent a strange swell of relief and yearning down his spine.
Dear 15,
Have you heard of Kahlil Gibran's poetry? I think you'll find it to your liking. Or at least, I thought about you when I read his work. Now that my local poetry distributor is away, I suppose I'll have to find other ways to fill my weekly quota. :(
Anyway, it makes me so happy that we're able to write to each other now! I was so, so worried about you - you have no idea. I'm glad to hear that you're safe. And yes, I liked your postcard a lot. I also liked the dozens of stories Rangiku-san told me about your rather vibrant youth. Payback is quite dangerous, you see?
I believe many congratulations are due from my end to our friends! Please tell them I'm utterly delighted to hear of their wedding, and if you don't have accessible medical treatment nearby, I will always be happy to help you in whatever way I can, via letters or phone calls - if that's a safe option for you. Please take care of Abuelo the best you can!
I will not lie to you, I *am* a little upset that there were no pictures in your last letter. You would have looked dashing in a suit, I'm sure. My imagination, as always, is running wild.
As for how I am, I'm fine. Things have been quiet at SSP, which is a good thing, I suppose, but sometimes I think it's a little too quiet. I'm still getting used to the idea of looking over my shoulder and not seeing you there, making your funny faces (and God were they funny, K-san!). I think it's quite amusing you didn't think we'd be friends, because I knew right off the bat that we would be a diabolical duo (well, maybe not right off the bat, but close enough to it!). Whatever facility you were created in, they sure made sure you'd make a very interesting observation for the clinical eye. Teehee.
I'm so happy you finally get to have a taste of your well-deserved freedom, but I'm afraid I don't share the same supposed fondness you do for the brine in my office. It stinks! Nonetheless, please take care of your health and always remember, I'm only a letter away. I hope that, wherever you are, it's filled with sunshine, and warmth, and only the best things. Once again, give my love to the newly-weds! I'm sure they're really happy, at this wonderful juncture in their lives.
Miss you.
Love,
Orihime.
Somewhere beside him, a chair scraped against the patio. Abuelo sunk down slowly, twining the tubes of his ventilator as he sat.
"Mind if I join you while you angst?" he said, chuckling with a wheeze when Ichigo scoffed at him.
"What, your grandsons up and at it again?" Ichigo said, jerking his head back to the large penthouse that sat on the sand behind them. The establishment itself was large enough to house more than four people, but Ichigo knew it would come to feel emptier when the old man passed. Oscar Joaquin de la Rosa had a gentle grace about him, a presence that made itself felt without saying much. Ichigo liked his company, considering he was an older, albeit cheekier version of Chad. It helped that the man's wisdom was just as rational, if not more profound.
"Young love," Abuelo said with a knowing smile. "You know how it is."
Ichigo snorted. He did, didn't he? The evidence was right there, in his hand.
"It's been four years," he said, instead. "You'd think they'd have toned it down by now."
"Perhaps. I'd be the world's most disappointed grandfather if they did, though."
They laughed together, an amicable silence between two people who had been tangentially aware of each other to the point where their first meeting hadn't felt like a first meeting at all.
Abuelo sighed, the air he took in raspy as it came out with a cough. He shook himself off, like that would help, then nodded at the letter. "Sado said you'd made a tough choice," he said wistfully. When their eyes met, Abuelo smiled. "I don't think we can be grateful enough for your help."
"That's not necessary," Ichigo replied immediately, not even half-surprised that he meant it.
Yet, sitting idle on a beach now, in the middle of nowhere, he couldn't help but be weighed down by the lingering uncertainties - his mother's faceless murderer, his own supposed guilt sealed on paper, his sisters, his…
He squeezed his eyes shut. Not his. But critical to him in a way where she'd waltzed into his bleak life and painted him in all the colors. Held on to his heart and his dignity when he'd been too disillusioned to see it for himself.
All said and done, they had won. They had broken out of a secure prison, made it out alive, and lived in fair harmony and anonymity among oblivious fishermen and locals who couldn't give less of a damn about who they were.
Yet.
Was there a future where things were different? It seemed unlikely even now, and he was sure the eventual guilt of making Orihime wait for him would have extinguished anything long before it began.
Yet. If he could, would he have done differently?
"Regret is bitter company, you know," Abuelo pointed out sagely, eyeing Ichigo from his peripheral.
"Grass is always greener on the other side, right?" Ichigo said, with a shrug. Even back at Seireitei - 'the other side' - he'd been so used to the order of things, of things being thrust upon him that he'd barely taken a minute to wonder if he deserved any of it. Tasting freedom now was vindication, but it didn't leave him any less uncertain than he was before.
"No one expects you to cope overnight," Abuelo said kindly, clapping Ichigo on his shoulder as he rose to his feet. "Take your time. Make your peace," He jerked his head at the letter, before once again making his way back inside.
"Thanks," Ichigo called out, catching the faint whiff of lunch when Abuelo slid open the door. It would be time to eat soon, to rest up so his injury would heal well. Maybe he'd take a walk later, stretch out his limbs. The sudden burst of freedom left him open to the endless possibilities, anyway.
For now, he had a letter to write back.
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"If new evidence came to light," Orihime started, eyes flicking to the last scrum of bar goers usher themselves out, before turning back to Rangiku with a hopeful gleam, "then Ichigo could still be exonerated, right? Even if he isn't technically in prison?"
"Theoretically, sure," Rangiku said, with a shrug. "I know I won't stop looking around, but the chances of finding the straggler who shot Masaki in a city this big...I don't know, Orihime. He could be out there, he could already be in prison for another offense. He could even be dead, for all we know." She sighed. "'Drunk man confronted us in an alley' doesn't give a lot for us to go off of, and it's been too long since it happened for the evidence to still be fresh."
Orihime sighed glumly. "I guess."
Rangiku slapped her hand lightly, the sting distracting her from her downward spiral as she guffawed up at the woman in surprise. "Cheer up," she said merrily. "Better to be out and about than in with no takers for your case, right?" She met Orihime's gaze and winked. "Last I checked, no one's stopping you from taking a little visit. A long weekend of -"
"Rangiku-san!" Orihime interrupted with a splutter, far too used to her euphemisms at this point to know whatever was going to come next was going to leave her mortified.
"Wha-at," Rangiku sang, looking thoroughly pleased with Orihime's discomfort. "Ichigo was like, the last person I expected to have a prison romance of all things, I'm allowed to tease him."
"He isn't even here!" Orihime protested hotly, crossing her arms to hide the pink in her cheeks. Really, was it so bad that they met in prison? Was it really that worse than meeting a half-drunk at a bar or a pompous brat at a medical conference? Honestly!
"He's here in spirit," Rangiku said, sleepily patting the seat next to her and making wet and loud kissy noises. Orihime shook her head, but decided to let it be.
As things wound up for the night, the two women shrugged on their coats and made their way out. The mid-winter chill was still crisp in the air and the city looked rather beautiful - if not a little lonely. Orihime was absently humming to herself, when Rangiku tackled her from behind and hugged her. They nearly staggered off their feet, but Orihime braced herself on the pavement last minute.
"Rangiku-san?" Orihime ventured, after a moment's worth of silence.
"They're all so grateful to you, y'know," Rangiku mumbled, her perfume enveloping Orihime in a heavy-scented hug. "His family. I am, too."
Orihime bit her lip, grinning sheepishly at the passers-by as she considered Rangiku's words. "I didn't really do much," she admitted, looking down at where Rangiku's hands were locked around his waist.
"You made him happy, kiddo," Rangiku said, heavily patting Orihime's head before pulling apart. "That's more than most, in these last few godawful years he spent at Seireitei." She began walking up to the storefront to call a cab, putting a little distance between them.
Orihime thought of Ichigo, of his long-drawn frown and his hard-set eyebrows. Of the bruises he'd arrived with, the feeling that he deserved it so innate. Of how he'd begun to discard those ridiculous notions, open up just a crack for her and his well-meaning friends to slither in. How relaxed they had been, even for a moment, when he'd spared her a rare smile or a lopsided grin and suddenly, her chest filled with a sunburst of warmth. She felt like maybe, maybe they were all right. That the signs were there and she was too drowned in guilt to see it. That he had been happy, and she was - in part - the reason.
"Hey, come on," Rangiku called out, snapping her fingers as she half-opened a car door.
Orihime's face split into a small grin, and she trotted up to the car ahead of her.
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About a few weeks later, Orihime had somehow been ushered to a bar again. This time, with a different set of people.
"The fallen man seldom stays fallen, my friends," Iba bragged, standing up and thrusting his glass of beer in the air like he was making a declaration. "That being said, I am considering getting a tattoo."
Orihime and Isane caught each other's gazes and tried to stifle a laugh. Though it wasn't specifically stated, celebratory drinks that night were in honor of the now-unemployed guard of Seireitei. And as hard as it had been to let him go, it did seem that the fallen man seldom stayed fallen.
Beside Iba, in the cramped booth, Renji snorted and tugged him down by his belt. "You can't pull off a tattoo, Iba. 'Sides, what would your mom say?"
Iba's temporary glee fell back into a sullen frown. He sank down in his seat and drowned the rest of his beer. "She's not the boss of me," he muttered anyway, and no one believed him.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll be just fine, Iba-san," Isane assured, before nudging Orihime with her elbow as she dragged the latter back into the conversation. "Though I am a little concerned about this one. Ichihara's pretty far up north, y'know? You're not running away from us yet, are you?"
Orihime smiled, feeling it strain on her mouth. "I'll be in touch," she promised. "I just think a juvenile facility will be more my speed."
Her transfer to a smaller, more rehabilitation-based facility had been somewhat of a surprise to all her co-workers, to whom it had seemed that Dr. Inoue was not only competent, but satisfied with her job. Of course, it appeared that way on the surface. Hardly anyone, spare those intimate with the case, knew of the underlying guilt that trailed her as she went about her day. Justified or not, she had violated one of the fundamental principles she had vowed to take as a doctor. It was only fair she took her exit with grace, while she could still look her patients in the eye.
Across from the table, Renji watched her for a second. Then, the look in his eyes brightened again, normal as ever. "Eh, the doctor's gonna be fine, Dr. Isane," he said, with a dismissive wave of hand. "Weather's much better up north anyway. Rukia was saying the other day, how we gotta boot up even to visit the front lawn, the way this cold is going."
Renji's smooth segue led to everyone transgressing into a chorus of discussions about the weather and whatnot. Dinner carried on, organic as ever, as the night grew darker and busier. Orihime anchored herself to the moment, cherishing the camaraderie she'd managed to build with these people - these good people that had taught her a thing or two about the practicalities of the real world.
By the time they were just about winding up, Iba had passed out on the smooth booth chair, mouth open in a loud snore; Isane all the way across the room, had managed to chat up a random group of people by the pool table. Renji nudged Iba's shoulder on the way out, snorting when the man simply slumped over onto his side.
"God, why did I let him drink," Renji muttered, stepping out of the way as Orihime sidled out of her side of the booth.
She giggled, before helping a blacked out Iba sit up again in fear he'd vomit. "Will he be alright?" she asked, turning over her shoulder.
Renji scoffed, fishing out his phone to snap a picture. He set it down, then grinned at her. "He won't have a choice, not when I send this to Mama Iba," he said, thumbs brushing over the buttons of his phone.
As they made their way down the narrow aisle and headed up to the entrance, Renji halted. Orihime stopped with him, tilting her head curiously at his frown.
"You don't have to quit, y'know," he said with a sigh, like he'd been mulling it over for a while now. "You did good. Better than Iemura did, at least."
Orihime's eyebrows creased, but her eyes grew wet at his praise. "Not looking forward to seeing him again, Abarai-san?" She sniffed surreptitiously behind her sleeve.
Renji chuckled. "Nah, not really," he said, elbowing her. "I mean, he never asked me for bean paste the day he stepped foot on the penitentiary."
Orihime laughed, a trilling sound that spilled out of her as she clapped her hands together in glee.
Renji shook his head. "Still. There's a place for you here yet," he said, then paused as his eyes widened. "Unless you got something waiting for you up north." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, only-half-joking like he was expecting Orihime to suddenly reveal where those damned convicts were.
She almost laughed again. "There's nothing waiting up for me up north, Abarai-san," she assured. No one, rather, but they both understood it even if she hadn't said it. She smiled a little sadly, craning her neck up to see Renji. "I will miss you though."
He shook his head, then pat her on her head. "You don't have to," he said, and despite the unspoken acknowledgement between the two of them, she felt comfortable. "You're always welcome around these parts."
"Thank you," she whispered, giving him a loose side-hug. He returned it, squeezing her shoulder as they parted.
"Good luck," he said, shaking her hand firmly like he had when they first met. "It was a pleasure working with you, doc."
Orihime smiled sweetly. "Likewise, Abarai-san."
Renji turned over his shoulder, cupping his mouth as he hollered, "Oi, Iba, get your ass up! We're heading out!"
Iba slumped, his face crash-landing in a bowl of leftover udon.
Renji and Orihime shared a mutual look of alarm, before darting back to go rescue him.
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The most recent of letters was still sitting in Orihime's purse, carefully wedged between her wallet and her compact mirror as she traipsed up the stairs of her apartment. Its presence was a constant throughout the night, a comforting weight in the back of her mind that somehow, somewhere, Ichigo was alright. And aching as it was without him, the very reminder of it was comforting.
She closed the door behind her, muting the outside sounds as she pushed aside her belongings to reach for his letter. She pulled it out, then tossed her bag onto a nearby couch to grab a glass of water.
When she returned, she had her butter knife in hand as she regarded the familiar scrap of paper. The long-scrawled handwriting. Long before she'd even pried the glue open, her eyes were already scanning the contents.
Orihime,
I wasn't talking about the brine, idiot. I was talking about you. If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you were trying to wheedle that one out of me.
Anyway, Kahlil Gibran, huh? Interesting choice. I read the poem you mentioned in your last letter. As it turns out, Abuelo is a fan. Sappy romantic, that guy - but then again, you've met his grandkids. Apple doesn't fall far from the tree, or so they say. Thankfully, I've found solace in this little outhouse in the back; no more third-wheeling for me. Your congratulations have been passed on and well-received.
I've had a lot of time to think, in the time that I've been gone. Truth is, the world is different now. It's changed - some days it's easier to get used to, others leave me wondering if I was better off back at SSP, having some guard tell me what to do, how to live. Then again, when I think about my sisters and how they don't have to worry about me anymore, I feel like I'm alright again. Funny thing, this brother business. I send them letters too, but not often. They're fine as they are, I don't want to hold them back.
I think about you too. A lot more often than I'm comfortable admitting, but I do. When we were together, I was always afraid - not of you, or us getting caught, or any of that shit, but of how much you made me feel just by being yourself. It was a good feeling; it gave me courage when I didn't have a lot left of it. I watched you every day, doing your job like it was the most important thing in the world. Loving me like I was worth the work it took to get me here. If there's anyone on this planet (or others) that deserves everything and then some, it's you. And I hope you get it. I hope you get to do everything that you'd ever wanted to do.
I know you said I would be your last, but I still want you to try. And if, one day, you find that you can't give the kind of love you give me to another, let's start over and try this thing again-for good this time.
Until we meet again.
Love,
Ichigo.
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Fin
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*cowers in fear* AHHHH it's over, please don't kill me! I know a lot of you anticipated/wished for a happy ending, but considering the tone of the story, I just didn't feel like it would cohere very well as opposed to an ambiguous one. That isn't to say this is a cop-out or I didn't know how to end this, because funnily enough, when I started getting ideas for this story, this was the first chapter I had planned. The rest came after.
As for Ichigo's case, I was hesitant to leave it like it is after some of your reviews, but honestly? From my exposure to criminal justice, it's not that uncommon for cases like these to go unsolved forever. While it isn't ideal, it *is* realistic and the focus of this story, right off the bat, was (for me) more about the incarceration and post-incarceration than the sequence of events that led there anyway.
As always, reviews are appreciated. If you hated this, please go easy on me lol. Considering this is the first time I've written a story this long, I'm really proud of myself and overjoyed that I got to write it the way I wanted to. This has been such a fun and fulfilling experience and I honestly can't wait to write more.
Thank you to every single person who read/reviewed/favorited this story! Lots of love!