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Orihime's breath becomes shaky, and her entire body suddenly feels weak. Why him? Of all the people in Paris, twenty-eight million of them to be precise, why is the person she is captured and possibly, most-likely killed by happen to be the man with the orange hair?
"Kurosaki," one of the men on the patio barks, grabbing her attention. "Get rid of her."
Orihime gasps in shock, beginning to panic. Without thinking, Orihime quickly reaches down and roughly grabs onto the man's lower region. It was not something she wanted to do, but she is greatly desperate to escape from his tight grip. The man curses in pain, releasing his arms from around Orihime. Hastily, Orihime turns around to face the man and pushes him out of the way, into a nearby bookshelf. Before the man is able to get up, she is already gone from the library.
The man in the trench coat tries to run after her, yet the man in the vest grabs him, stopping him in his tracks. The man looks over his shoulder, confused.
"You're just going to make a scene if you run after her," the man explains, releasing his grip on him. He walks over towards Kurosaki to pick up the beret and fan Orihime had left. "Besides, it just occurred to me that the woman is in the Asahi Shimbun, that pesky little newspaper company. She is a widely-known writer and investigator."
The man glances at the two males before turning around and walking back onto the patio.
"She will be our next target."
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Panting, Orihime quickly runs through the crowd, pushing and shoving anyone that is in her way. She manages to rapidly move through the immense cluster of people until she collides with a man; the impact is forceful enough to make her fall onto the damp, cold street. She is not injured, but the fall surely caught her off-guard. Orihime glances up to find the man turning around to face her. Orihime gasps, her eyes widening.
"Just my luck," she murmurs under her breath in disbelief. Standing before her is the drunk, English man she has previously encountered. This time, the man has two other men with him.
"Well, look what we have here," the man slurs, a sly smirk on his face. He turns to the others. "This is the slut I ran into awhile ago." Orihime jumps to feet, but the three men are already crowding around her.
"Oh, you sly girl!"
"Does your mother know what you have on?"
"She has a remarkable body, indeed!"
"I would love to take you home tonight."
Orihime has never felt so provoked, so disgusted in her twenty-three years of living. Summing up her experience at the Universal Exposition so far, Orihime has come to realize that it is nothing how she had expected it to be. She thought that is was going to be full of amusement rides and eating Western food and gawking at all the newest technology. But, all she has witnessed so far was drunk, perverse men and serial killers.
If Orihime had more of her special mix of hot peppers and horse urine, she would have splashed the irritant on all three men.
Her train of thought ends when one of the men brushes his hand over her rear—this sets Orihime's trigger off. Immediately, Orihime's hand harshly meets the man's cheek. The man holds his jaw in shock, his eyes full of anger and rage. In response, the man grabs Orihime's hair, yanking it hard enough to make her yelp and cry in pain.
"Let go of her."
Instantly, the three men, as well as Orihime, turn their attention towards the source of the noise. Orihime's bright, hazel eyes expand in disbelief when she discovers that voice belonged to the man with the orange hair. How many times would she encounter this man?
"Who the hell are you?" One of the men asks.
"Kurosaki Ichigo," he answers, his glare intensifying.
"Look, why don't you mind your own business?" The man returns, slowly walking towards him, urging Ichigo on.
Within seconds, Ichigo punches the man square in the face, making him stumble and fall onto the ground. Before the other two men have to time to react to Ichigo's assault, he grabs them by their collar and violently, roughly collides them together, instantly knocking them out.
Orihime glances up at the man in shock, unable to move or speak, worried of what he would do to her. He bends down and grabs her wrist, making her shudder from his touch, before dragging her through the crowd that now surrounds them due to the sudden and quick brawl. Orihime tries to fight against his grasp, but she begins to feel hazy. She cannot feel her feet, and her legs turn limp. Her vision begins to blur, her movement begins to slow.
Then, there is sudden darkness.
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"Kurosaki, I need you to find that woman—
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"—and kill her."
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When Orihime opens her eyes, she is nearly blinded by the light that enters from an open window. She shields the unwelcome sunlight with her hand, and her eyes eventually adjust, revealing an unfamiliar setting. Everything is white and sterile, like a hotel room.
Orihime blinks a few times, trying to grasp and recollect any memories from yesterday. When everything begins to flood into her mind, like Kurosaki Ichigo and the drunkards and the merrymakers, she wants to believe that it was a gut-wrenching nightmare rather than her actual reality. Although, she still does not understand how she has ended up into a hotel bedroom.
Hesitantly, Orihime crawls out of the sea of bed sheets, then stretches to rid of any stiffness that lingers in her body. She notices her wallet lying on the small, wooden bed stand and quickly retrieves it, opening to see if anything was missing. Luckily, her red-tinted lipstick, a souvenir she purchased at a Parisian boutique, and twelve francs are untouched. She sighs in relief.
Orihime does recall leaving her beret and fan somewhere in the madness that has occurred the previous night, but the items were meaningless to her, and she discards the rather burdening thought.
Clank!
Orihime jumps at the sudden noise. She turns around, and her eyes instantly connect to the door. Sudden dread fills her limbs; she knows exactly who could have made the noise. Hesitantly, Orihime treads towards the door and wraps her hand around the doorknob, ready to open it.
Wait!
Orihime quickly snatches her hand away from the doorknob. What was she doing? The man who almost tried to kill her was on the opposite side of the door! What if she did open the door and confronted him? Then, what? Would he take her life right then and there, then dump her entrails into the Seine river? Or, would he be willing to let her go and act as if any of this did not happen?
Orihime sighs at the last thought in exasperation. Of course, that was not an option.
Oh, how confusing this scenario was for Orihime. One moment, she is completely enraptured with his lips and his eyes and his hair. The next, she is terrified of what he is and does.
Orihime quickly scans the bedroom. She does not find a phone to call the police, so she opts for the reasonably-sized window as her only escape. Quickly, Orihime runs to the window and searches for a handle. When she finds one, she twists it and pushes the window open.
Orihime pokes her head out the window and looks down. She is not too far from the ground; she presumes that she is on the second floor of the hotel. Orihime searches the room for something that could help with her escape, and her eyes land on the bed sheets. She rips them from the bed and ties the sheets tightly on the window handle. She pulls on them to make sure it has a secure grip. Then, she stands on the bed stand to get better access to the window. She lifts one leg—
"What the hell do you think you are doing?"
Instantly, Orihime snaps her head around, strands of copper hair flying in every direction, before her eyes meet an intense, amber-colored stare. Orihime's heart rapidly pounds, and her insides scream in panic. Her legs feel as if they transformed into gelatin, and she forgets that she is only standing on one foot, losing her balance.
"Shit!" Ichigo curses, stumbling to catch Orihime before she hits the ground. When he helps her stand on her feet, Orihime tries to pry out of his arms.
"R-Release me!" She stutters, pounding her tiny fists against his chest.
Ichigo manages to fight against her attacks, dragging her out of the bedroom and into what seems to be the living room. Orihime tries to wriggle from his tight grasp, yet he does not bulge. When she keeps fighting against him, Ichigo grasps onto her chin, pulling it upward so she could see his face.
Orihime gasps—not because of his sudden actions, but how fascinating he looks. She has never seen his face this close, this clearly before; the only time she has stolen a good look was from the window of Les Ombres.
"You know, I did not appreciate that stunt you pulled yesterday," he growls between his clenched teeth.
Orihime blushes from his remark, remembering how her hands was intact something she did not want it to be. She tries to change the topic, "W-What are you going to do to me?" She whispers under her breath, her bottom lip quivering in anticipation of his answer.
"I will have to kill you."
Hastily, Ichigo grabs a small, sharp knife from the back pocket of his pants. Then, he roughly grabs a hold on Orihime's wrist. She yelps in pain, attempting to kick and hit him, but he is quick and dodges her attacks. He pushes her against the wall, a strong grasp still on her wrist, pressing his body against Orihime to keep her immobile.
Ichigo leans in slowly, inching closer to her face. He wickedly smirks; his heated gaze never leaves her wide, hazel eyes. He brushes his fingers down her long, pale neck, gently tracing her collarbone, before placing the knife near her pulse point.
Orihime whimpers in fear; tears are leaking from her eyes, her entire body is trembling, and her mind is blank. Oh, how she did not want to die like this. In the end, she accepts it, closing her eyes, waiting for her fate.
Chop!
Eyes still closed, Orihime winces at the noise, but feels no pain. Ichigo's grip is no longer on Orihime, allowing her to lean against the wall. Hesitantly, she opens one eye, then the other. Orihime quickly scans over her body to find any cuts, but no avail. She looks up at Ichigo, who is walking towards the front door with his hands in his pocket.
"W-what did you—"
Ichigo lifts a long lock of silky, auburn hair in his hands. Orihime gasps, grabbing her hair to find the evidence.
"Stay here," he demands over his shoulder before opening the door. He walks through the entrance, then his gaze meets with hers. Orihime feels sudden chills roll down her spine from his intimidating glare. His eyes narrow before continuing, "If you leave, then I'll really kill you."
Then, the door slams shut.
Orihime slides down onto the ground, holding her head in her hands. Her breath is uncontrollable, and her heart feels as if it is going to rupture at any moment. A slight queasy feeling submerges from her abdomen, but she is able to hold it in.
She is being held captive by a killer, which meant she could be dead at any given moment. She could escape, she could leave and return to Tokyo. But, what if that is what he expected for her to do? What if he was waiting at the corner of the hall, waiting to stab her mercilessly? Orihime could already see her tragic end in the newspaper, mourning the significant investigator's death: Inoue Orihime is Killed by the Mysterious Murderer!
If that was the case, then no one would be able to find out who the alleged murderer is.
For now, Orihime is going to lay low and obey his every command. The thought is something she dreads upon, but if Orihime wanted to stay alive, then she would have to do so without question. While she is kissing up to him, Orihime would have to come up with some sort of plan to negotiate with the killer.
Ugh!
Hastily, Orihime shakes the frightening thoughts from her mind. All of this calamity was simply too much for her to handle. On top of all of that, she has admittedly fallen for an assassin. As if the heavens were not pitying her enough as it is.
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Long, auburn strands of hair lie in a heap on a wooden desk. Ichigo stands on one side of the wooden desk, and on the other side, a man with wavy, chestnut-colored hair sits in a chair, staring warmly up at him.
Ichigo has returned to the same library from the night before; it is the temporary meeting area of his clan. It is an unexpected place for wrong deeds to be planned and done, not to mention quiet and vacant due to the Universal Exposition that is held right outside its doors, perfect for no one catch them in the doing. Well, no one except for Orihime, that is.
"I'm assuming that you have taken care of her?" He asks, rubbing his thumbs together, waiting for an answer.
"Yes," Ichigo answers quickly, too quickly for the man.
The man raises a brow, growing curious, "How so?"
Ichigo's throat tightens, and he turns his head away, unable to answer his question.
"Was it that upsetting?"
"Look, I killed her! It does not matter how! Will you just give me what you owe?"
The man stares at Ichigo, his facial expression unmoving, unchanging. Then, after a moment, he slams a large stack of yen that looked to be around ¥100,000 onto the table before sliding it towards Ichigo. Without hesitation, Ichigo grabs the stack before turning on his heal and quickly busting through the doors of the library.
From the patio, another man walks towards the man sitting in the chair, "Do you think he killed the woman?"
"Of course, not," the man at the desk scoffs. "That is why I need you to care of it instead, and I need you to do it quickly before it is too late. While you are at it, show Kurosaki a lesson. Roughen him up a bit, bring some sense back into him. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes... Aizen."
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An all-out war is about to begin, and Orihime is right in the middle of it.
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note: review please~!