I know it has been very long since I last updated, so here's a quick recap of where we stand as of chapter 1:
Jinzen - Orihime's hometown
Seireitei - one of the two warring countries; Orihime is from here
Asauchi - the other one; Ichigo is from here
Seireitei believes Asauchi intends to violate the terms of their ceasefire, so they need a spy to get in and get better intel. Rangiku, who works closely with Seireitei government, suggests Orihime, who is a civilian, instead of someone from the Secret Service [for *hand wave* IchiHime reasons, obviously].
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In Orihime's defense, she hadn't known they wanted to get her married.
It had been a normal Saturday morning. She had paid rent, wished her landlord and his wife a good morning, and headed downtown to her job in the marketplace. A little over three years ago, Sora had squirelled enough to buy a local textile store from the owner, who was now retired. With Sora gone, the responsibility to take care of the store fell on her shoulders.
Business had been down bad for the better part of the year; she was understaffed, overworked, and too poor to afford most anything that would help her manage things around the store. Even the regular customers had begun waning out, the ones who had initially shown support for her out of sympathy after her brother's demise. There was simply too much competition — why would they buy from her if her competitors were selling more, for better?
Yet, Orihime had not let it dampen her spirits. She had decided, first thing, that she would somehow turn the show back around — come up with a business plan that would help her make it through the winter. It was embarrassing, but it had to be done. Aunt had already begun hinting at marriage during weekend dinners. Boys from the valley down south, farmer's sons. Orihime had never ventured down to the rice bowl but she knew they had a need for farmhands year round. She figured by the year end she'd be wedded off, milking and birthing cows for the rest of eternity.
While that didn't sound like too bad of a life, the prospect left her feeling empty. Like there was still so much of her life left unfulfilled. What about Sora's business? What about the girls at her dormitory? Tatsuki? It didn't seem right that one chapter of her life was closing in on another without preamble.
It was when she was closing that she noticed him, the figure lurking around the corner with a cigarette in his mouth. She tugged her shawl closer, bracing herself for the inevitable. Jinzen, like anywhere else, had strange men wandering about after hours and she'd long learned the art of ignoring them, but she couldn't deny the way her fingers fumbled with the keys when he stepped out of the shadows and into the light.
"Orihime Inoue?"
He had a tattoo on his face.
Orihime gripped her keys tighter in one head, her spine straight and alert. "Can I help you?"
"Sure," he said. His eyes were dark and serious. "If you could answer a question for me, maybe."
A question?
"And what would that be, sir?" she asked softly, her heart in her throat.
"What would you be willing to do to stop a war?"
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Like most teenagers after the split between Asauchi and Seireitei, Orihime and Sora had moved to Jinzen to start a new life. The partition had hit everyone hard; their father couldn't hold down a job for more than two weeks, and their mother began returning home later than usual, her eyes rheumy and sharp when they landed on either of the two. Orihime, more so than Sora, although they both had taken their fair share of beatings well into adolescence. Between their father's erratic temperament and their mother's resentment, Sora had taken it upon himself to provide for Orihime's life and education.
They spent their first year in Jinzen penniless, but happy. Sora had two great loves in his life that he put before himself: his sister, and his country. As long as he could be of some service to both, he didn't mind working odd jobs to bring home a square meal. He raised Orihime without religion, but encouraged her to bow to the flag, expressing gratitude to their motherland for giving them the clothes on their back. Sora read a lot of what most would call 'nationalist' literature. On days they'd walk together alongside the sparkling lake, he'd try to pass some of it down to Orihime.
"Remember, sister," he'd say, folding her small fingers into a crisp salute as he hoisted her on his shoulder. "There's nothing greater than the service a man provides for his country. It protects us, feeds us, shelters us from the horrors of the world beyond our borders."
"Like you take care of me?" Orihime asked, her hair falling into her eyes.
Sora chuckled. "It's like that, except Seireitei takes care of everybody. You, times thousand."
"A thousand Orihimes?!" Orihime sucked in an amazed gasp, imagining a battalion of a thousand versions of herself, marching down the streets of their town.
"Ten thousand."
"Ten million!"
"Hundred million."
"Hundred thousand million!" Orihime declared, giggling to herself when Sora shook his head in defeat.
As the years passed and diplomatic relations worsened between Seireitei and Asauchi, it seemed as though there was a darkness in the air that was permanent—a thick fog that floated over them even as they went about their day. When Asauchi fired six missiles into Seireitei on August 3rd, thousands of square miles of their land burned to a crisp. Men, women, children—no one had been spared. It had been a devastation in a long chain reaction of devastations the two countries imposed on each other. They'd listen to it on the radio — Orihime and Sora — and something about it all upset her in a way that never really dissolved, even well into adulthood.
"Why do we do this to each other, brother?" she asked thickly, covering her ears as if to stop herself. "Can't we all just get along?"
Sora looked at her like she was a child, but she didn't think there was anything childish about wanting for peace.
Strange men began stopping by the shop, talking of the dogs and scoundrels in Asauchi with slick disgust.
"Off with their heads, the dirty lot of them!" They'd spit, as Orihime flinched from her place behind the curtain. Sora never participated in their rabble-rousing — which was a relief to her, but a relief short-lived. The missile attack on their soil had shaken them all, but Sora more so than most. He'd work late and return home with bags under his eyes, exhausted. Sometimes Orihime would have to step into town to look for him, and she'd find him at the town square among other men his age—talking. Ruminating. Everyone seemed to be scheming, and there was a mean-spirited, garish glint in their eyes that scared her. It took little for men of peace to turn to war in those days. Once, she'd found Sora removing large orders of cotton-silk from the store crates and replacing them with handheld weapons.
"Brother."
He'd looked up, alarmed, before his eyes softened again. "Ah. You startled me, Orihime."
"What are you doing?"
Something about her tone made him shoot her a small, placating smile. "I don't like it any more than you do, Orihime, but ours is one of the only businesses that still ships to Asauchi. The military approached me today and requested one of our boats. I couldn't say no and risk getting us into trouble for refusing."
Orihime frowned, hugging herself to keep from rocking back, her voice small when she asked, "Are they going to hurt people with that?"
Sora paused, then sighed. "Orihime…"
Tears swarmed in her eyes, hot and betrayed. "I can't believe you'd help them!" she shrilled.
"Orihime, please! I didn't have a choice—"
"Are you going with them to make the drop-off?"
Sora covered his mouth with one hand before letting it drop to his side. He didn't have to say anything; that was an answer in itself. Orihime couldn't even look at him when he came closer, her entire body stiffening when he pulled her into a one-sided hug.
"Remember what I told you about our obligation to the flag?"
"The flag is just a dumb piece of cloth," Orihime muttered stubbornly, knowing it would strike a chord with him. He shook his head, disappointed at her reaction. When he left that morning, she refused to even look at him, ignoring his greeting on his way out.
She thought about it a lot—about whether she'd hold on to him tighter, or wish him a good morning that day if she knew. If she knew the boat would capsize and take all three passengers and the shipment with it.
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By the time she closed the door of the girls dormitory behind her, she was trembling—not from the early winter chill, but from her own anxiety.
"Your aunt will be compensated," Hisagi had said. "We'll be bearing all your expenses for the wedding, and any purchases you make in Asauchi. There won't be a paper trail for any of this, but if you agree, then we'll do our best to prepare you for every outcome. It'll be your chance to stand up for your country. Do what's right."
Stand up for her country. Wasn't that what Sora had always wanted her to do?
"Where were you?"
Orihime blinked, coming face to face with a hissing Tatsuki. The lights were all out, and if she looked past her friend, Orihime could see a bundle of the other girls' heads peeking out from beneath the covers, snoring softly.
"Did something happen?" Even in the darkness, Orihime could trace the concern in Tatsuki's voice. She didn't have to see her to know she'd made her worry. A pang of guilt struck at Orihime; it was always like this. She was always the one cowering behind Tatsuki, taking refuge in her courage and her strength. Did she have it in her to be the strong one for once? To provide for them the way Tatsuki had been, since Sora died?
Orihime guided Tatsuki by the elbow, leading them out of the dorm and towards a long stretch of stairs that led out of the old building. She didn't stop until they made it to a porch light that doused them in a pale yellow, the only sounds being the familiar cricket noises that chirped well into the night.
"I'm getting married." Orihime winced. "I think."
Tatsuki's eyes widened. "Huh? Did your aunt say something again?" She rolled her sleeves, a fire in her eyes as she grabbed Orihime's hand. "Well, let's just follow our usual protocol and tell her to fuck off then."
Orihime shook her head, willing her voice to work long enough to explain. To explain everything about Shuuhei Hisagi, about her brother, about being asked what she was willing to do to stop the war and how, after Sora, it had to have been a sign. Didn't it? This was the universe giving her a chance to redeem herself and pay everyone who had a hand in taking care of her back. Wasn't it? She looked to Tatsuki desperately, tears crowding the pockets of her eyes.
She was terrified. She didn't want to get married, much less to a man from Asauchi, from where she couldn't visit home often. Although Shuuhei had made it seem like a choice, it didn't feel like one. They knew where she lived; besides, if she refused, she'd have to live with the guilt of knowing she had the power to help and she did nothing about it. When she spilled this to Tatsuki, the other girl narrowed her eyebrows tightly.
"Orihime, are you insane? No. We're not doing this."
"Then what do you want me to do?" Orihime sniffed. Could she walk away, knowing she would have disappointed her brother in everything he lived for?
"Say no. Or we could run away!" Tatsuki suggested emphatically, fuelling the hope rising within Orihime. "Hell, we could go down south. Get jobs somewhere or something. It's not the end of the world. I can turn in my resignation at the school tomorrow; all we'd have to do is disappear, and they'd never find you again."
It was those words that snapped Orihime out of it. The very fact that Tatsuki had always sacrificed so much of her time and her energy for her, which she was willing to sacrifice her very life and run away with her—it put things in perspective for Orihime. She knew what she had to do.
"I have to do this, Tatsuki," she said firmly. "I'm going to."
"But—" Tatsuki watched Orihime's eyes take on a determined light, fierce honey-gold that only manifested when she was about to be stubborn about something. "Orihime. This is Asauchi. Are you sure you want to go there?"
No, she thought. She was dead unsure.
"Of course." She smiled instead. "I was going to have to get married someday. If I can be of use to Seireitei, to my brother's memory, then maybe this is a good idea after all."
The air grew colder at the very thought. The two girls stared at each other for a moment, already feeling the distance grow between them, that rocky stage of growing up that pushed people apart and changed the trajectory of their lives—for better or for worse. Tatsuki snatched her into a tight embrace, her arms iron-clad and warm around Orihime.
"Okay." She hugged her tighter. "If this is what you want, then I'm with you."
Orihime sniffed, returning her embrace, pushing down the fear in her heart. "Thank you for understanding me, Tatsuki."
"Don't cry, dummy," Tatsuki said through tears.
"I'm not!"
It was the start of something neither of them could have ever anticipated.
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Over the course of the next five months, operatives at Seireitei began training Orihime for her mission, which was to be treated as synonymous with her wedding. She'd wake up at five every morning, bidding her goodbyes to Michiru, Ryo, Chizuru, Mahana and Tatsuki as she went out on "errands" for the store. Only Tatsuki knew the truth, which was that she'd run two laps around the military base, wheeze her way into her briefing room, and then try not to die of embarrassment as she failed at basic tasks that other, more experienced soldiers and operatives than her could do with relative ease. Nevermind that they had years of training on her—they'd still laugh at her for falling on her bottom trying to cross monkey bars.
"I want to quit," she'd whine through tears, wincing whenever her trainer cleaned the bruises on her palms. "I don't want to do this anymore."
"Then quit," Yoruichi Shihouin would say smoothly, and it stung because how could her teacher have such little faith in her? Did no one truly believe she could do this?
However, when she caught Yoruichi waiting for her response, she realized she wasn't really asking her to quit—she was asking her why she still came back the next morning, every morning.
"I want to make my brother proud," Orihime answered defiantly. "I want to stop this war."
Yoruichi smiled.
While she underwent basic physical training, there was also the matter of getting to know the family she was marrying into—specifically her new husband.
"His name is Ichigo Kurosaki." Momo Hinamori said, sliding a folder forward. "He's just a little over a month older than you, but your primary target will be his father — Isshin."
"Does he have a mother?" Orihime asked, gingerly sifting through black-and-white photos of a young man in a black, open-neck shirt, a firm scowl planted on his face. There were a few formal photos of him as a child, hair clearly tamed with a comb as he held his infant sisters' hands. The smile on his face was unrecognizable compared to pictures of him in his adulthood. Another photo of him with his father — yet again a scowl, but this time there was an irritated twitch to accompany it. She laughed softly, amused at his expressions.
"No." Orihime glanced up to find Momo's brows softening in her direction. "She passed away shortly before the Wandenreich resistance began."
"He would have been around…eight?" Orihime calculated, tapping her chin. Something about the way his expressions changed in photographs over the years struck her deeply—it was grief, straight and clear, and her heart clenched at the very recognition of it. Death changed people, and if Ichigo had lost his mother then this was definitely the bellwether of what would go on to be a series of difficult life changes for him. She could only imagine what the war of independence would have done to sandpaper him around the edges, empathizing with the Kurosaki family for their loss of both mother and son—the latter more metaphorical than anything else.
"They're a big family," Momo explained with a small smile. "You'd fit right in."
Orihime returned her smile. Momo was one of the few operatives who didn't intimidate her, treating her more as a younger sister or a student than an expendable agent. That wasn't to say she was soft; as a teacher, Momo appreciated punctuality, a willingness to learn, and dedication to training. She was in charge of Orihime's education, and she took it seriously, quizzing Orihime weekly on politics, history, mathematics, logical reasoning and deduction. Her teaching style was fun and engaging, and Orihime absorbed all this new knowledge like a sponge took to water. Unlike her combat skills, her aptitude scores were impeccable, much to everyone's surprise—a testament to both Momo's teaching, and her own study of the books they lent her well after dark.
"I had no doubts of your efficacy, Hinamori," Commander Aizen had praised after her test scores had returned, one hand on Momo's head and the other on Orihime's. When his eyes drifted to her, they were warm and encouraging. "And of course, you too, Inoue. Good work."
Commander Aizen was somewhat an elusive figure around the base. Of course, as head of the military and paramilitary, he was extremely busy, but Orihime often heard high praise of his skill as a war strategist.
"I've never seen him move too fast, too rash," Shuuhei had explained once, when they had run into him on their way to the barracks. "Captain Tosen respects his temperance a lot."
Captain Tosen too, was one of the many figures that Orihime often spotted around the military base. Blind as he was to the physical world, his insight was far sharper than most of his peers. Or so she'd heard. Orihime often saw him and Aizen walking around the base together, deep in intellectual debate and discussion. Neither of them interacted with Orihime often, but it was her understanding that her progress was being monitored, reported dutifully by Momo and Shuuhei, their immediate right-hand operatives.
Shuuhei, on the other hand, taught her the basics of covert listening devices, wiretapping, everything she would need to communicate back and forth with Seireiteian intelligence back home.
"One tap, no one's home." He showed her, his fingers pressing into a small black box. "Two taps means trouble's coming. Send messages only if you can tap once, and make sure you hide this somewhere higher up—somewhere where we can stream a signal back to you without obstructions."
"Do you develop these yourself?" Orihime asked, fingers fiddling with a radio transmitter prototype that he'd allowed her to play with.
"No," Shuuhei said. "They're all built by engineers—instructed by Urahara Kisuke, Head of R&D."
"I see."
"Keep an ear out for any meetings Isshin might have with other Asauchian officials. Keep your eyes and ears peeled on the major playmakers, the guys who look like they've got a hate-boner for Seireitei." Shuuhei smiled hesitantly. "We don't need you in the trenches—we just need information."
And so Orihime would allow herself all of it—the indignity of physical training in the mornings, followed by Yoruichi's maternal comfort. Momo's training, Shuuhei's training, taking walks around the base and trying to comprehend it all as the sun dipped across the horizon each day. She was surrounded by people, yet lonely—weary to the bone of her own company. However, she pushed those feelings down as quickly as they surfaced, forcing herself to smile, to endure.
"They've seen your photos, by the way," Rangiku said one day, when she dropped in. "The Kurosakis, that is. You don't wanna know how ecstatic the dad was, knowing his son is going to be marrying someone as hot as you."
Orihime flushed.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Tatsuki had taken it upon herself to break the news of her wedding to the rest of the girls—who were varying shades of excited and skeptical.
"Well, if you're happy." Ryo frowned at the photo, passing it on to Mahana, who was thrilled that one of her friends was getting married.
"We definitely have to throw you a party."
They did.
It was a small one, albeit, and they did have to wrap up the music at 9 because the landlord went to bed early and hated "a ruckus" but all the girls did their best to prepare Orihime for her wedding. They had questions—what was the groom's educational background? Did he have siblings? Past lovers?
"Surely they could find someone for you in town? So you could visit more often?" Ryo fretted.
Orihime and Tatsuki exchanged a quick and uneasy glance. "Eh, Ryo, you worry too much. The guy's rich, I'm sure they'd let her make a trip down here if she wanted to," Tatsuki defended, but it sounded forced to both their ears. Orihime's heart sank, and for the rest of the evening, she tuned her friends and their teasing innuendos out in exchange for the thoughts in her head. They were too loud to drown anything else out anyway.
"Hey, Orihime," Tatsuki said later that night, when they fell into their dorm beds right next to each other. "What if—what if we don't get to see each other."
Hearing the vulnerability in Tatsuki's voice gave her a sudden strength. Right. It was her turn to be the strong one, wasn't it?
"It doesn't matter how far I go, Tatsuki," Orihime smiled. "We'll always be under the same sky, won't we?"
Tatsuki smiled back. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. We will."
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Her husband-to-be was tall.
That was the first thought Orihime had, peeping behind Commander Aizen's shoulder to get a good look at him. Here they were, at the Kurosaki Country Club house, at what was supposed to be a screening test where both families were supposed to meet and talk. While Ichigo had brought his father, his uncle and his aunt (Ryuken and Kanae Ishida, Orihime recalled from her files), she herself had no close relatives, and so Aizen, Rangiku and Yoruichi stood in for her. She was dressed from head to toe in blue, her hair finely combed and free-flowing down her back, a touch of blush brushed onto both her cheeks. A spritz of perfume here, and a dash of lip colour there, but she still felt rather underdressed compared to the defence minister and his family.
Ichigo himself stood between his father and his uncle dressed in a sharp black suit and cream trousers that billowed around his thighs. When both their parties parted for them to face each other, he bowed his head.
"Nice to meet you." His voice was deep, deeper than she'd imagined it to be and she beamed.
"Hello!" she cheered, and he drew back slightly in surprise, not having anticipated her bold reaction.
"Orihime!" Rangiku scolded through a cough. When their eyes met — Orihime confused — Rangiku jerked her head and lowered her eyes in exaggeration. Tone it down, her body language seemed to say.
"Ah, don't punish her," Isshin Kurosaki laughed, reaching forward to shake hands with Yoruichi and Rangiku. "It's good to have a hearty bride in these times — and a healthy one too!" His eyes twinkled appreciatively, and Orihime felt embarrassed.
"Dad," Ichigo muttered in equal embarrassment, glaring at him.
Isshin ignored him. "Prime Minister couldn't make it?" he asked Aizen, clapping his shoulder as he urged all of them to take a seat. Orihime folded her hands in her lap, directly in front of Ichigo, who regarded her with a casual perusal. His eyes, dark brown, held a depth that piqued her curiosity, but remembering Rangiku's prodding, she quickly dropped her eyes to her knees and smiled. A bride had to be demure, after all, though Orihime was quite honestly not sure how. She'd never had a woman train her through these things before, but mostly it was her outgoing nature that got in the way.
That girl could befriend a tree if she wanted to, her aunt would scoff, and if her aunt was here, Orihime would insist that trees were very much worth befriending. A tray of tea was set down in front of them, but Rangiku had told her to wait until at least two or three more people had picked up their cups so she simply sat there, awkward and uncomfortable, suddenly thirsty.
"Ah, he's rather busy," Aizen replied politely, smiling. "As is yours, I suppose."
"Busy times," Isshin acquiesced with a nod, though he didn't elaborate. "He'll be at the wedding, of course; if we agree on one, that is."
"Of course. That is what we are here for, after all." Aizen never stopped smiling, though his gaze was now directed to Orihime. "Go on, don't be shy. Tell them a little about yourself."
"Um. Well, my name is Orihime," she began, looking to the ceiling as she tried to come up with a perfect business pitch like she did with her customers. "I can read. I helped my aunt in the farm a lot, so I can help roost rogue chickens."
"Rogue chickens?" Ichigo repeated, dumbfounded. Isshin looked thoroughly amused, nudging Ryuken's knee with his own like they were sharing an inside joke. Kanae sniffed behind her handkerchief, though she smiled politely as if she was interested.
"Yes, girls that grew up here have quite the experience handling them," Yoruichi replied smoothly, but pinched Orihime's back. "Why don't you tell them about your brother's business?"
She did. She talked a little about her education, and their business. The hardships they had, and her brother's death, watching Ichigo's eyes soften in sympathy whenever she glanced in his direction. She could cook, though she was by no means an expert. She had experience dealing with children. She parroted these things off just the way Rangiku had taught her — humbly, yet with the intuition and wisdom of a woman.
"Miss Inoue," Ryuken said at length, after a silence had fallen among them. "I suppose the only question I have as the groom's uncle is this: once you set foot into our house, you will be an Asauchian, living among Asauchians. I wouldn't ask you to prove your loyalty, but I do hope it is something at the front of your mind."
"I didn't hear a question in there, Ryuken," Yoruichi interrupted sternly, and her hold on Orihime's back tightened in a way that felt maternal; protective. Rangiku had inched closer too, though Aizen watched her with a passive interest. This felt like a test somehow.
"I'm sure you understand the implication nonetheless, Miss Shihouin."
"Uncle!" Ichigo exclaimed, exasperated.
The room grew stuffy and uncomfortable at the sudden curveball; the elephant in the room was suddenly trumpeting its way around the table, and everyone shifted at its palpable presence.
"If I may," Orihime spoke softly, eyes braving to meet Yoruichi's and then Ryuken's. "I think I perfectly understand Mr. Ishida's concern, and I don't blame him."
Ichigo's eyes widened. Yoruichi's brow lifted in scepticism, as if to say, you better know what you're doing.
Orihime continued nonetheless. "My brother and I lived in Jinzen these last few years, it is true, but we grew up in Asauchi too, and the one thing he taught me is that it doesn't matter where I live — only how I will be treating the people I live with. If — if the Kurosaki family would be kind enough to accept me as their bride, then I would be treating them as family. Not as Asauchians or Seireiteians."
Although nothing perceptibly changed in anyone's reactions, she could feel the tense air dissipating at her answer.
"Isn't she a darling," Isshin hummed, no doubt already hearing wedding bells in his head. "Don't you think she'd make a lovely wife for you, my brute son?"
"That's for her to decide," Ichigo muttered, shrinking back to stare at his nails. "It has to be her choice."
"Yes, yes. That is the gentleman's answer, of course." Isshin slapped his back proudly. "Well, my dear, this here is my son. He doesn't look like much, but trust that he inherited his old man's charm and wisdom and of course, good looks!" He flashed her a grin, and Orihime was torn between laughing and consoling an increasingly irritated Ichigo. Yoruichi and Rangiku rolled their eyes, while Aizen remained stone-still composed as he had been since they arrived.
"We'll take care of you — as the new daughter of our household, of course," Ryuken interrupted, sighing at Isshin's antics. "All we ask is that you take care of him the way that is befitting for a wife." He tilted his head in Ichigo's direction. "Ultimately the decision is yours, but we'd prefer you didn't take too long on an answer."
Orihime bit her lip, rubbing her sweaty palms discreetly on her pants.
"So, what do you say?" Isshin asked, leaning in eagerly as the room waited for her response.
What would you do to stop this war? Shuuhei Hisagi had asked.
"I accept your proposal, sir," Orihime replied.
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"That's how it happened then, huh," Tatsuki chuckled humourlessly, running her fingers over the faded photograph Kazui had handed her. "They didn't let us go to see her, but I always wondered how beautiful she must have looked on her wedding day."
Kazui took the photograph back, looking down at his parents standing across from each other, surrounded by family. His mother's hand was in his father's, a moment frozen in glossy time, both of their gazes lowered to the ground — still shy, still strangers to each other with no idea of what was to come. Orihime looked radiant, ever the beautiful woman they had all known her to be, but knowing what he knew, Kazui wondered if wedding woes were the only burden she'd carried on her shoulders that day.
"Funny, how things ended up," Tatsuki said wistfully.
Kazui couldn't agree more if he tried.
