A/N: Hello everybody! I do hope you're all curious to see where I'm taking this story (and, of course, how it gets there! LOL)! Now, I only have on little note of importance before we begin: please pay attention to the time references! There's a little time-skippage going on here, and it might confuse you if you don't realize it. But, other than that, I've got nothing new or noteworthy to say, so…please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. Not at all, in any way.

Soul Mates

Chapter 1: Between Absence & the Heart

Ichigo was unsurprised to note that he had been right, at least so far. Little over two weeks had passed since he'd come to Soul Society for training that he'd never desired. In that time he'd been given a ridiculous amount of information. Most of which he'd already forgotten. And, as he'd predicted, it had been a long two weeks.

He'd been bombarded with lectures and endless hours of painful lessons, all of which had begun, of course, within an hour of his arrival. And he'd spent an embarrassing amount of time in Fourth, recuperating from various failed kidou attempts. But none of these facts came close to comparing with the pure horror he'd felt at learning that his main instructor for this training was none other than Byakuya Kuchiki.

He still had, roughly, a week and a half left of his training. The end date was too far away for him to feel any real comfort.

Between Byakuya and Shuuhei (the 'assistant' for the day), Ichigo was beat. And it was in this exhausted state of soreness that Ichigo collapsed onto his temporary bed.

He felt like he was actually starting to grasp some of the things they were telling him, and he was proud of himself for not blowing himself up at any point within the past forty-eight hours, but there was still so much that he simply couldn't get his head around.

What does it say about me that I learn better in an actual fight than I do in training? As soon as he'd thought it, he shook his head. Some questions were better left unanswered.

Ichigo rolled over on the futon, putting his back to the single window above him, and his eyes landed on the object resting against the far wall – Orihime's basket.

His lips twitched as he reflected on the memory of her handing it to him, and the smile she'd graced him with when he'd thanked her. When I get back, I'll have to thank her again, he told himself. The few treats he'd been able to eat had been delicious.

And Renji had assured him that the others were 'pretty good,' too. Damned idiot, Ichigo grunted silently. He'd have to avoid telling Orihime that most of the treats she'd given him had been pilfered by their obnoxious friend.

At least he'd managed to retrieve her basket.

Releasing a heavy breath, Ichigo rolled again onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He knew where this train of thought was leading, as he'd already been there more times than he could count.

Still, he was honestly amazed at just how badly he missed her.

In a way, it was a stupid realization. He had expected to miss her, after all. But not like this. And that was the simple truth. Sometimes, like in that moment, he missed her so much it actually hurt. The feeling was entirely different from grief (something he knew unfortunately well), but it was just as poignant.

He missed being able to close his eyes and feel her warm, comforting spiritual pressure at any given time of day.

He missed her cheery morning greetings.

He missed her bright, usually blinding, and frighteningly contagious smile.

He missed her musical laughter.

He missed just listening to her ramble about absolutely nothing as he walked her home, either from work or school.

Hell, at this point, he was even starting to miss that worried, concerned look she always gave him after he'd been in a fight.

And he certainly missed being the center of her attention as he sat patiently beneath her Souten Kisshun. The care he received from the various members of Squad Four was nothing in comparison.

I feel like a moron, he thought as he glared up at the ceiling.

"You sound like one, too," his hollow piped up with a feigned casualty.

Ichigo wasn't quite able to bite back his groan of irritation. This was another problem he'd been having, with disturbing consistency. The demon inside of him had a nasty habit of butting into his thoughts whenever he focused too long on Orihime. And it had only gotten worse over the past couple of weeks.

"Is there something you want? Or are you just here to piss me off?" Ichigo snapped. His exhausted state was doing nothing to cage his temper.

Laughter was evident in the hollow's voice when he replied, "You're just too easy, Ichigo."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Ichigo returned, his body tensing on reflex as his mood darkened. He might be tired, but he wasn't so tired that he was beyond diving into his inner world and teaching the fiend when to hold his tongue.

"Tch," the hollow scoffed. "As if you could."

Forcing his body to relax once again, Ichigo aimed a glare at his counterpart and finally said, "You know what? You're not worth the effort."

"If that's what you have to tell yourself to get through the day, King," the hollow replied with a smirk.

Ignoring the jibe, Ichigo took the opportunity to ask the question that had been nagging at him. "Cut the crap. Tell me what you want with Orihime."

The hollow's smirk was still firmly in place as he calmly replied, "The same thing you do."

"You expect me to believe that? You're a hollow! You can't even understand how I feel about her!" Ichigo couldn't help but wonder if he would still be able to pull out his mask after he decapitated the fiend living within him.

The smirk was darker now as his hollow said, "I'm a creature of instinct. Your instinct."

Ichigo ground his teeth as he felt his hollow recede once more, his point made. They had had variations of this conversation countless times since the War, but it never failed to aggravate him. His hollow was right, of course.

He – Ichigo – was completely in love with Orihime Inoue.

He'd known it (consciously) for months, but it had been true a lot longer than that. And love was a powerful emotion, bringing with it all sorts of sub-emotions and reflexes. Ichigo could admit that he was more protective of Orihime than just about anyone else. And he knew that he sometimes struggled with the unpredictable urges and desires she aroused inside of him – both the simple and the not-suitable-for-public.

He also knew that for each one of those instincts, there was a twisted, darker version of it lying within his hollow.

His hollow was violently protective of her – far more so than Ichigo himself. For every wandering eye that Ichigo would settle for glaring into submission, the hollow within him wanted to claw the other man's eyes out.

But what truly concerned Ichigo wasn't that – it was everything else. Because for every time Ichigo had to physically restrain himself from reaching out, if only to touch the bare skin of her forearm or brush her hair out of her face, his hollow wanted to do so much more.

Ichigo was terrified that his hollow might do something utterly unforgivable if he ever lost control. And that, more than any other, was the reason Ichigo refused to ask her on even a single date.

He needed her in his life; he knew that. But he needed her safe, and preferably happy, more than he needed either of those things for himself. So he would keep things as they were and, fate willing, he would never let her know just how she affected him.

But, at the end of the day, that by no means meant that he didn't miss her, and yearn for her. And tonight, it seemed, was most definitely one of those nights.

He swallowed, releasing a heavy breath as resignation settled heavily within him. He'd never known her company – at least not in the way he really craved it – and yet he couldn't help but succumb to feeling as if he were settling.

Ichigo rolled over again as sleep slowly crept in, clouding his thoughts. Rarely had he felt so lonely, but that was all he could think before his mind quieted and his eyes fell shut.

Orihime sighed sadly as she stared up at her bedroom ceiling. It was late, and she was scheduled to work early the next morning, but she just couldn't sleep. Her mind was restless, and every time she closed her eyes she saw different images of Ichigo. Just visual memories, snapshots of moments past, but they were enough to remind her of the source of her unease.

Two weeks.

It had been just a little over two weeks now since she'd seen or heard from him. Two whole weeks since he'd stepped through the senkaimon for his kidou training. And now she couldn't help but wonder if he was alright.

She trusted that he could handle the training, of course. She'd seen him handle worse in tougher situations. But worrying was in her nature – especially when she couldn't be nearby to offer whatever assistance she could provide. And Ichigo did have a habit of pushing himself too hard, too fast.

Even if he has gotten hurt, she reminded herself, I'm sure Captain Unohana and Squad Four would patch him back up in no time. She'd been telling herself this since the first night he'd been gone, after she'd woken herself up choking on a scream from a nightmare she hadn't had in months. It really didn't help at all.

And tonight she was afraid to go to sleep.

There had been a hollow attack earlier in the evening – nothing particularly dangerous or remarkable. But the hollow had materialized right in front of her, barely a block from the bakery.

She had been walking by herself, as Tatsuki was busy and she hadn't wanted to bother Uryuu or Chad, but it was late enough that she knew, had he been home, that Ichigo would have insisted on walking her. And, had Ichigo been there, the hollow would barely have lasted long enough to materialize at all. Instead, she had had to eliminate it herself.

It always haunted her for hours after when she had to strike a hollow down, even though she knew that the human soul was spared. She just wasn't a violent person. But that wasn't what ended up bothering her that night.

No, instead, she had found herself focusing on what – on who – had been missing. And on just how much she missed him.

Not that she was surprised, of course. She knew she was the type of girl who missed the people who mattered most to her as soon as they were away from her. But this wasn't that kind of missing. This was the kind of missing that was felt to the core of her being; the kind of missing that resonated within her soul and brought an undeniable, intangible ache to her heart.

Really, when she thought about it, she knew she was being ridiculous for feeling that way. She'd known before he left exactly how long he'd be gone, and he had already been gone for over half of that time. So she really didn't have that much time left to wait.

But it felt like forever. Though she could probably fill the time with listing all of the reasons she missed him – all of the things she missed about him.

She missed being able to close her eyes at night, as she tucked herself into bed, and easily find his strong, reassuring spiritual pressure.

She missed the feeling of security that his presence always brought her.

She missed the way his face softened when she greeted him.

She missed the sound of his deep, honest chuckle whenever she managed to catch him off-guard with something funny.

She missed the way he would glare at any stranger who dared to flirt with her as soon as he thought she wasn't looking.

She missed the scowl he wore every day.

If she were being honest with herself, she was even starting to miss the apologetic shine that would light his eyes whenever he returned to her in need of healing.

Orihime squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head vigorously in an attempt to dispel her thoughts when she realized how ridiculous she was sounding. I might be in love, and I might be a student, but I don't need to sound like a love-struck school-girl!

"It's too late for that," Tsubaki's familiar voice declared. He sounded agitated, or perhaps disgusted. Orihime could rarely tell the difference with him.

"Tsubaki!" Shun'ou scolded immediately. Directing his next words to Orihime, he added, "Don't listen to him, Orihime. We understand how you feel."

Orihime frowned, her eyes open once more as she stared blankly up at the ceiling. "Oh, I'm sorry, though. I don't mean to drag you all into my silly musings."

"You sure have a funny way of showing it," Tsubaki replied grumpily.

"I'm sorry, Tsubaki," Orihime repeated guiltily.

The internal energies of her Shun Shun Rikka shifted until Tsubaki was forced into the background, and Shun'ou took over again, saying, "Really, Orihime, you don't need to apologize. We're a part of you, remember? We feel everything you feel – it's your emotions that drive us. So we really do understand."

Lips curving in a faint, bittersweet smile, Orihime replied, "Thank you, Shun'ou."

She rolled onto her side, then, and tucked her hands beneath her pillow. There was nothing she could do about the situation, no matter how much she wished otherwise. So there was no sense in dwelling on just how much she missed him. Especially when I don't have the right to miss him like that, anyway.

It was a wayward thought, but it made her drag in a heavy breath and swallow back a fresh wave of resignation. Because, at the end of the day, that was exactly her reality. She and Ichigo were friends – close friends, yes – but nothing more.

She had no right to miss him so deeply, or to yearn for his company on such a primal level. And she certainly shouldn't be thinking anything near the thoughts she was thinking at such a late hour.

But she was, not that anyone would ever know. And she did miss him; she did yearn for him.

There were times, like tonight, where it felt like her very soul was crying out for his. Usually, when thoughts like that flitted across her mind, Orihime would scold herself for reading too many romance novels. But she couldn't even bring herself to do that this time. No three hundred page book was going to be keeping her company tonight.

There was only one kind of company she wanted in that moment, and, as fate would have it, it was the one kind of company she knew she'd never get.

A single tear slid down her cheek as that lonely reality settled over her heart.

Orihime took a deep breath and closed her eyes, willing herself to go to sleep in order to push aside that familiar feeling of loneliness. She could dwell on it later, when she didn't have things to do in the morning.

It was shortly after nine o'clock the following morning when the phone began ringing in the Kurosaki kitchen. Yuzu, who had been in the living room reading the latest volume of her favorite manga, immediately sprang to her feet and hollered, "I'll get it!"

Only the faintest of shuffling sounds could be heard from upstairs, where Karin was getting ready to head out to the soccer field, and Yuzu wondered if her sister had even heard the phone ring at all. But then she was in the kitchen, manga still held in one hand, and she quickly snatched the phone from its cradle.

"Hello, Kurosaki residence?" Yuzu asked politely as she carefully set her manga face-down on the countertop, in order to retain her page if she had to take notes.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, before an unfamiliar male voice asked, "Yes, is Ichigo Kurosaki available?"

Yuzu frowned curiously and replied, "I'm sorry, but my brother's away right now. He won't be home for another couple of weeks. Could I take a message? Or would you like to talk to our father?"

The distinct sound of shuffling paper could be heard, and again the man hesitated for a moment before saying, "Your father is Dr. Kurosaki, right? Yes, if you could, please put him on."

"Okay, just a second," Yuzu said, beginning to feel concerned. She pressed the 'hold' button before setting the phone down and moving to the hall in order to holler, "Dad! Someone's on the phone for you – I think it's important!"

Karin walked up beside her sister a moment later, looking mildly curious as she asked, "Who is it?"

"I don't know," Yuzu replied, her eyes moving back to the waiting phone. "But he's asking for Ichigo."

Lifting an eyebrow, Karin asked, "Did you tell him that Ichigo's away right now?"

"I did," Yuzu assured her.

Isshin appeared before them before the conversation could continue, smiling jovially. "Who's on the phone, Yuzu?"

Yuzu repeated her earlier answer as she moved aside to give him room to reach the phone, and silently the twins watched their father's expression shift into one of muted curiosity.

Isshin moved swiftly to the phone and lifted it, saying, "This is Dr. Isshin Kurosaki, what can I do for you?"

He was silent for several minutes, listening intently as the mysterious man spoke. His head bobbed up and down a couple of times as he made sounds of understanding or agreement, but his face never revealed any spiked levels of concern.

The twins watched from the entrance of the hallway, wondering what was being said.

And then Isshin spoke again, his voice betraying nothing other than reassurance as he said, "Oh, she must have forgotten to call you! Well, I'm sure she'll apologize when she speaks to you again, but I wouldn't worry about it! You see, she came in late last night complaining of a sore throat and a cough, so I gave her some medicine and told her to take a couple of days off. Then I drove her home, just to be safe. The poor girl must have gone straight to bed without giving it another thought!"

Yuzu and Karin exchanged confused looks as he spoke, having no idea who their father was talking about. But they knew no one had come by the night before, not for a personal visit or seeking medical aid.

"Of course, of course," Isshin said a beat later, smiling now. "Oh, it was no trouble at all. In fact, it's reassuring to know you're so on top of things!" He paused, chuckled, and then wished the unknown man a good day before casually hanging up.

When Isshin turned to again face his daughters, he blinked at the incredulous expressions on their faces. "What?" he asked.

"What do you mean 'what?'!" Karin demanded, narrowing her eyes on him. "What was that all about? Yuzu said he was asking about Ichigo!"

Yuzu nodded emphatically, her hands clasped in front of her, worry obvious in her eyes.

Isshin waved dismissively toward them, laughing, and said, "Oh, don't worry about that!"

Karin's foot connected with his shin pointedly as she glared up at him.

Hopping now, Isshin said, "Alright, alright! Really, it wasn't anything to worry about!" He set his foot down again, sobering, and explained, "That was Orihime's boss – the man who owns the bakery. Apparently she's listed Ichigo as her primary emergency contact, and since she didn't show up for work today and she's not answering her phone, he was worried."

For a moment, the twins gaped at him.

"I know!" Isshin continued, beaming proudly. "I can't believe she actually listed him, either! He must be doing something ri-!"

Karin's foot found his other shin as she snapped, "You idiot! Why are you so casual about this? What if something's wrong with Orihime?"

"We should go over to her apartment and check on her!" Yuzu insisted as she watched her father leap away from her sister.

Holding out his hands defensively, Isshin said, "Okay, okay, I will! But, I'm going to go alone. I want both of you to stay home and handle things here, and I'll be back as soon as I can, alright?"

"What if you need help?" Karin challenged stubbornly.

"Then I'll call," Isshin replied calmly.

There was a long silence as the twins accepted his answer, and finally Karin stepped back. Isshin nodded at them, offering them a light smile, and moved swiftly from the room.

In truth, he had always intending on checking up on her – he just hadn't wanted to worry his daughters. Of course, they were too much like him – or was it too much like their mother? – for that to work.

Isshin didn't bother detouring to grab any supplies before he let himself out of the house.

Kisuke looked up from his magazine when the door slid open and Isshin Kurosaki, in Soul Reaper form, stepped through. The shopkeeper's eyes widened at the unexpected sight, and he set down his reading material as he declared, "Well, this is interesting."

Isshin frowned at the older man as he came to a stop. "We have a problem," he said bluntly.

Pushing to his feet, Kisuke started toward him, humming, "It would certainly seem that way, wouldn't it?"

"Do you have any idea what happened?" Isshin asked tightly. Ichigo would never forgive him if his fears were well-founded.

Kisuke was quiet for a long minute, unwilling to give an answer until had taken the time to develop one.

Isshin shifted beneath his bundle, jaw clenched as he impatiently awaited an answer. In his arms he held the limp body of Orihime Inoue.

She was still dressed in her nightgown, which didn't surprise him, as he had discovered her in her bedroom, seemingly sound asleep. But upon closer inspection he had realized that her skin was cold to the touch and no breath escaped her. Only faint, residual traces of spiritual pressure lingered around her. And she had not moved, or made a sound, for the entire time he'd been carrying her since.

For all intents and purposes, Orihime Inoue was dead.

Kisuke reached out, his fingers brushing over the hibiscus petals of her hairpins, and he frowned thoughtfully.

"Kisuke," Isshin pushed as the other man's arm fell back to his side.

After a moment, Kisuke looked up and said, "Let's get her in back. We'll settle her next to Ichigo's body for now."

Isshin followed after the shopkeeper obediently, asking, "What're you thinking, Kisuke?"

"What I'm thinking," Kisuke began easily, "is that, were Orihime like Ichigo, I would assume she had abandoned her body and simply not returned to it yet."

"What do you mean?" Isshin asked as they stepped into the room where Ichigo's body was resting.

Kisuke moved aside, watching as Isshin obligingly settled the healer's body beside his son's, and said, "Her soul appears to be missing."

Isshin froze, Orihime's shoulders still held several inches from the floor, and looked up with wide eyes. "You don't mean-?"

Slowly, the former Captain shook his head. "No, I don't. If Orihime had died, or been killed, I would have felt her spiritual pressure fluctuate. This is different. Orihime is simply not here."

His eyes returning to the auburn-haired girl before him, Isshin carefully laid her down before leaning back, still kneeling beside her. After a long stretch of silence, he whispered, "Then…where did she go?"

"That," Kisuke began, casting a long, thoughtful look toward Ichigo's body, "is the question, now, isn't it?"

To Be Continued…

A/N: Confused yet? Don't be! I'll explain it all (in time)! LOL Anyway, there's chapter one – I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know, and of course come back soon for the next installment!