A/N: Hi everybody! So, before I begin, I'd like to send a quick THANK YOU! to KentuckyRedneck, who has been posting some amazing artwork inspired by this story over on DeviantArt (you should all, in fact, go check that out)! And now that that's out of the way: are you all curious to know where the story's going? Well, good news: this chapter should (at least slightly) answer that question! Also, please note that there is a time-skip between the end of chapter 17 and the start of this chapter. And, with that said, I don't think I'll make you wait any longer!

Disclaimer: Bleach is the property of someone luckier, smarter, and all around cooler than me.

Soul Mates

Chapter 18: Too Close

Orihime sighed as she glanced at her watch. It was just a little past seven o'clock on a Wednesday night, she and Ichigo were both done with work, and yet she was stuck eating the second-half of her easy, microwavable meal for dinner.

She pouted as she leaned against the counter, waiting impatiently for her food to cook. What is it about the approach of graduation that makes our teachers all decide we haven't quite earned that diploma yet?

It was a stupid thought, of course. The end-of-the-year group project was, apparently, a tradition, and had been on the year's agenda from the beginning. But it wasn't a small project, and it required a lot of after-class get-togethers, which were hard to schedule around everyone's part-time jobs. And, as a result, it was taking a toll on their dating schedule.

It was mid-way through the first week of February, and though the end was finally in sight, it was still too far away.

The microwave dinged, dragging Orihime from her thoughts, and she immediately picked up a towel and slid the dish into her hands. She bumped the microwave shut with her shoulder as she turned, set the dish and towel onto the counter, and moved to grab the necessary utensils.

As she moved, she begrudgingly admitted that she was at least a little lucky.

Their class had been split into groups of three and four, and Orihime had been assigned to work with Michiru and a boy named Kobe. Michiru was uncomfortable having a stranger over, even for a school project, so they had taken to meeting at either Orihime's or Kobe's. And Kobe, fortunately, lived only two floors beneath Orihime, so she actually had time to change out of her work clothes and shove a little food into her stomach when they had to meet late.

Ichigo, of course, had just been relieved to learn that she wouldn't be walking around town so late at night.

Orihime lifted the first bite of her meal to her lips, blew twice in quick succession, and popped it into her mouth. She squealed around the mouthful of food, quickly realizing that the minute she'd given it to cool hadn't been enough, and rushed to the fridge for a bottle of water. Oh, I wish I had time to eat like a normal person! she thought as she gulped the soothing liquid.

But she didn't, so she moved back to her food and took another (smaller) bite. She had to be at Kobe's apartment in fifteen minutes.

Ichigo dragged a hand through his hair in frustration as he glared at the paper before him on his desk. He wished Keigo and Tatsuki hadn't stuck him with writing the report, but it couldn't be helped at this point. And, he supposed, he should at least be grateful that it was already half-finished.

He picked up his pencil again, intending to make some more notes, but as soon as the tip of the pencil touched the paper the lead snapped, leaving behind a large, ugly streak.

"Dammit," Ichigo cursed as he turned in his chair, looking around for the little piece that had gone flying off somewhere in the vicinity of his bed. I am just so not in the mood for this, he groaned silently.

"At least that's understandable," his hollow piped up, sounding similarly frustrated. "Who would ever choose this crap over spending time with the Queen?"

Ichigo ground his teeth as he dropped the broken pencil-tip into the garbage beside his desk. "Need I remind you she has her own project to work on?"

The hollow shrugged. "I bet you could talk her into ditching it," he offered.

"I'm not talking her into ditching her school work!" Ichigo snapped, sticking the end of the pencil into his small pencil-sharpener.

"Yeah," his hollow acknowledged, "you're too boring for that kinda fun."

"You know," Ichigo began as he examined the newly-sharpened tip, "I've been wondering something. Do you ever do anything besides bitch and moan?"

"Why don't you come in here and find out?" his hollow returned challengingly.

"Oh, right, the pointless threat," Ichigo shot back, leaning back in his chair now. "I almost forgot."

The hollow was indignant as he repeated, "Pointle-?"

"Ichigo!" Yuzu called up the stairs, interrupting his hollow's would-be rant. "Come help me with something!"

Ichigo sighed, sat upright, and dropped the pencil on the desk before pushing to his feet. "Yeah, pointless. Now shut up." Aloud, he called, "Coming, Yuzu!"

He ignored his hollow's grumbling as the fiend faded back and he made his way down the stairs.

He couldn't imagine what it was that his sister was doing that required his help, especially at almost eight o'clock at night, but he wasn't worried. His other sister and their father were both home, supposedly downstairs somewhere, and he couldn't hear any shouting or any other sounds that ordinarily indicated a problem. Hell, maybe she just needs help with her homework, he theorized as he landed in the hall.

"Yuzu?" he asked as he looked around. He couldn't hear the television, and the kitchen was empty.

"In here!" Yuzu called, her voice coming from the direction of the living room.

Ichigo adjusted his course and easily ambled into the larger room. He gave barely a glance to his father, who was kneeling on the floor in front of their mother's poster, leaning on the wall and wailing about something that probably wouldn't have made any more sense if he'd been saying it calmly. But he did note that Karin was settled in her favorite corner of the couch, looking bored.

Yuzu was standing in the middle of the living room expectantly, and she had changed out of her earlier outfit, into a simple, dark blue knee-length dress with a soft pink overcoat.

Arching a curious brow, Ichigo came to a stop at the edge of the couch and asked, "What do you need?"

Yuzu held her arms out and spun around, asking, "What do you think? Do I look okay?"

Feeling confused now, Ichigo slowly replied, "Uh…yeah. But why'd you get all dressed up? It's too late for you to be going out anywhere."

"I told you he'd ask," Karin declared calmly without lifting her chin from her palm.

Yuzu, facing them again, dropped her arms to her sides and ignored her sister's words. "That's it? Just 'yeah?' Tell me how I look! I need to know if this good!"

Knowing he'd never get his own answer if he gave her hers first, Ichigo repeated, "Tell me why."

Scrunching up her face, Yuzu sighed and said, "It doesn't matter. If it's not immediately obvious, then I clearly need to choose something else."

"Didn't you just spend half your allowance on that?" Karin asked pointedly.

Yuzu gave her sister a pleading look and exclaimed, "But it's obviously not cute enough! It needs to look like a date-dress!" Her eyes widened as soon as the words slipped from her lips and she very slowly slid them sideways, toward her brother.

Ichigo stopped breathing for a heartbeat, and then the next thing he knew he was barely managing to keep from shouting. "What do you mean 'date-dress'? Since when are you dating?"

Thinking quickly, Yuzu held her hands out and said, "It's in preparation! You know, someday I'm hoping I'll get to date, and I want to have my first date outfit all figured out! I read it in a magazine!"

Snickering, Karin added, "Yeah, it's in preparation, alright. Preparation for Friday night."

"What?" Ichigo cried, feeling strangely horrified.

Yuzu was suddenly angry, and she planted her fists on her hips as she exclaimed, "Just because you didn't start dating until a few months ago doesn't mean I have to wait! I'm perfectly old enough, and as my brother you're supposed to be supportive of me!"

Ichigo stared, dumbfounded and frustrated, as his sister darted past him, toward the stairs.

I hate big projects, Orihime decided as she flicked out her bedroom light and started toward her futon. She was tired, more mentally than physically, and she had to do most of it over again the next day. Fortunately, at least, there would be no three-hour group meeting. And, more fortunately, Ichigo would be picking her up in the morning.

It was with that thought in mind that she pulled back her comforter, intending to crawl beneath it, but she froze when a very unexpected sound reached her ears.

Someone was knocking on her door.

Concern immediately washed over her and Orihime leapt to her feet, snatching her hairpins and robe as she darted to the door. It was too late for a friendly visit – or really any kind of a visit that wasn't an emergency. She slipped the hairpins onto the collar of her nightgown with ease and tied the robe around her waist just as she reached her door.

It didn't occur to her that the low-level spiritual pressure on the other side of her door didn't belong to any of her friends until after she had already pulled the door open.

She only barely caught the words that had wanted to roll off of her tongue as she found herself staring, startled, into Kobe's light green eyes. For a moment, she didn't know what to say. It was almost midnight, and they weren't particularly close. There was really no reason at all for him to be at her door.

"K-Kobe," she finally stammered, "is…something wrong?"

"Yeah," Kobe grunted. He started forward, then, walking straight toward her purposefully.

Orihime, caught off-guard, took a step back before finally finding her voice. "Wait," she began. But it was too late; he had already stepped into her entryway, and now he was crowding her. "What are you…doing?"

"I'm taking what I want," Kobe replied quietly as he pulled one hand from his jeans pocket and pushed her door shut behind him. He held her gaze as he added, "You."

No, Orihime thought as her stomach clenched. She wasn't naïve enough to misunderstand his meaning. Still, she tried to reason with him and said, "I have a boyfriend."

"But he's not here," Kobe said pointedly, taking another step toward her. "Besides, all I'm asking for is one night. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Orihime reflexively stepped back when he moved closer, and she quickly found herself backed against her wall. But she refused to let her fear show, so she narrowed her eyes and kept her voice firm as she said, "You need to leave, Kobe. Right now."

"I'll leave," he replied, lips curving up in a slow, dangerous smirk. "After I've decided whether I like taking you from the front or the back better."

The pit in her stomach expanded with each syllable that fell from his lips. He's not going to leave peacefully, she realized, her blood running cold.

"And if you try running for a phone," he added casually as he pulled his other hand from his pocket and held up a switchblade for emphasis. "You might regret it."

She really didn't want to have to fight him, but she could tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn't going to leave unless she made him – except, of course, if he got what he wanted. And that absolutely wasn't an option.

"So, Orihime," Kobe began, holding the knife at his side with a feigned casualty, "are you willing to play along?"

Her eyes narrowed as she took a deep breath and kicked her fear to the back of her mind. She could be afraid later, when she had nothing better to do. "No," she said firmly.

Kobe looked less than surprised at her answer even as his lips dipped into a faint scowl and he said, "That's unfortunate."

Remember what you've been taught, Orihime told herself as she watched him carefully.

Kobe was larger than her, of course. And he was in decent shape, though she had no idea what his training was. It was probably a safe bet that he was physically stronger than her.

But she had experience in dangerous situations. She had been face-to-face with scarier weapons than a pocket-sized switchblade. And she had been well-trained. Tatsuki had taught her how to fight – how to defend herself – and Ichigo had been teaching her endurance. But, more importantly, Ichigo had given her cause to believe in herself.

She could do this.

His muscles tensed a moment before he moved, reaching out for her with his free hand even as he stepped closer.

Orihime waited as long as she dared before throwing herself forward and to the side, hoping to shove him backwards and get a little space between them. Her shoulder slammed into his chest at the same time as his hand curled around the collar of her robe.

Kobe stumbled back a step, cursing in frustration, but managed to retain his grip on her robe.

Orihime yanked at the tie around her waist when she realized he had hold of her, and she only barely managed to twist out of the soft fabric before he could catch her arm. The robe hung from his fingers as she darted away from him.

"That was cute," Kobe called, tossing the robe aside and stalking further into the apartment. "I like how you're cooperating without cooperating. It's turning me on."

She was on the other side of her sofa now, watching him as he came to a stop at the edge of the living room. Her eyes narrowed in a glare and she replied, "You're disgusting. And you're not going to get what you want."

A dangerous light shone in his eyes, even across the darkened room, and he said, "Oh, I definitely am." He chose a path, then, and started toward her.

She waited until he was committed to his direction, and then she moved around the front of the couch, keeping her eyes on him. "You could still leave," she offered. They could only play this dancing game so long before she would have to do something she didn't want to.

"Stop suggesting that," Kobe snapped as his feet stopped moving. "That'll get annoying real quick." He glanced down at the couch before looking back up at her and asked, "Did you really think this thing could protect you?"

Before she could ask what he meant, Kobe had braced his free hand on the back of her sofa and propelled himself over it with ease. And, when he landed, he was within arms' reach.

Orihime braced herself for what she knew would come next. And then he was surging up, toward her, with his knife out. So she acted on reflex and spun sideways to avoid being stabbed, but she still felt the edge of his blade slice into her upper arm.

"Dammit, hold still, bitch!" Kobe snarled, his anger obviously overwhelming his earlier sense of calm. He swung sideways, hoping to catch her, but his knife swept through open air.

Her arm was stinging, but she had managed to put a little more distance between them for the moment, so that was worth it. "I won't stand still for you," she assured him firmly.

Malice darkened his eyes as he stalked slowly toward her and said, "Then I'll enjoy making you bleed. But don't worry, I'll keep you awake for what I intend to do to you."

She knew better than to distract herself with responding to his taunts, so she kept her lips tightly shut and watched. And, a moment later, he leapt for her.

Orihime's eyes widened as his feet left the ground. She hadn't considered that he would do something like that. There just wasn't room for that kind of move. But Kobe didn't have the experience to tell him that.

Unfortunately, that also meant there wasn't enough room for her to properly dodge.

He swung down with his blade as he descended on her, and Orihime went to step back, but the back of her calf connected with her coffee table.

She threw herself to the side in time to avoid the blade, but she felt it tear through the side of her nightgown. There was no time to dwell on it, however, as she rolled into her couch painfully. And she realized, as she attempted to push to her feet, that Kobe was already moving again.

He pushed up from where he'd landed, his knife stuck in her broken table, and spun toward her. His fist was clenched and she was far too close to get away.

Orihime reacted on instinct and kicked her foot out as hard as she could. It connected with his chest, just below his collar, and his fist lost momentum a beat before it met with her raised thigh. The impact still hurt, but only for a second. And, more importantly, her kick had sent her opponent careening backwards, into her newly-broken table.

She used this opportunity to scramble to her feet and move away from her couch. Her shoulder hurt from where she'd slammed into it, but she pushed that ache aside for later.

"Fucking…bitch!" Kobe growled as he pushed himself up – slowly this time – and lifted one hand to rub at his chest. He glanced back down, then, to see if his knife had been jarred free. And he noticed that one of the short table legs had broken off.

Orihime saw him see the potential weapon and she knew he'd reach for it. The wood was jagged along one edge, where it had snapped unnaturally; the weapon would be too hard for him to resist. She took a deep breath, knowing what she would have to do.

Kobe turned slightly, extending his arm to reach for the broken table leg.

She moved before she could talk herself out of it, covering the small distance between them with one step and lifting her leg until she had rammed her knee sharply into his stomach.

He grunted from the impact but she didn't let his obvious pain stop her, and she pulled her leg back and planted her foot solidly against his chest. When she shoved he fell backwards, landing awkwardly over one corner of the table and rolling onto his chest.

He was only a few feet now from the entryway.

Orihime took a step toward him, thinking about how she could get him out of her apartment, and she wasn't prepared for him to flip over. By the time she registered his sweeping arm it was too late.

His arm collided with her ankles, knocking her off balance, and she toppled onto her backside. She cried out, partially from the pain of the impact, as a flicker of fear tripped her heart.

Kobe was back on his feet, a small dribble of red at the corner of his lips, and he lifted his foot as if to kick her in the ribs.

Orihime threw her body awkwardly forward, unintentionally tackling him in order to avoid the kick, and they rolled twice before he out-muscled her and pinned her beneath him.

"Now I've got you," Kobe snarled, both of his hands locking tight around her wrists.

She took several shallow, sharp breaths, but her defiance never wavered. "Not exactly," she replied before her knee lifted again, this time connecting solidly between his legs.

Kobe cried out and automatically released her, rolling away as the pain shot through him.

Orihime scrambled back to her feet, and it was a beat before she realized he had rolled almost right up to the door. For the first time she was grateful for the smaller size of her new apartment.

She swallowed and moved quickly, before he could regain his composure, and reached past him. She jerked her door open easily and then glanced back down at him. He was cursing her now, threatening things that sounded truly vile. But she wasn't going to give him the chance to carry through with his threats.

Taking a deep breath, Orihime reached out and grabbed the coat stand. Hands tight around the empty branches, she planted the circular bottom against Kobe's stomach and shoved.

He made a startled sound, having clearly remained unaware, but by the time he started struggling he was already half outside.

She got his torso and shoulders out of the apartment, and then she slid the coat stand down and shoved again, this time over his knees.

Kobe instinctively rolled away from the threatening object, and just like that, he was completely in the hall.

Orihime dropped the coat stand, grabbed the door with both hands, and slammed it shut. She threw the lock and backed up until her back was pressed against the opposite wall. And then she froze, listening.

It was a moment before she heard movement.

Kobe shuffled on the other side of the door, cursing quietly, and then he moved away. His footsteps were uneven but steady, and they faded quickly.

And then she was alone.

Orihime sucked in a ragged breath, pried herself from the wall, and turned toward her apartment to take stock of the damage.

The back cushions of her couch were disturbed.

Her brother's coffee table was destroyed.

There was a knife stuck in one of the wood fragments.

Her favorite bathrobe was lying, forgotten, practically at her feet.

And a strip of her nightgown was still stuck to the impaled blade.

She dragged in another breath, took a step forward, and felt the first tear fall. The threat was over now; it was okay to be afraid. It was okay to acknowledge that she was in pain.

What do I do now?

She needed to clean up her apartment. She probably needed to heal herself. There was probably a blood stain on her carpet to reject; and maybe she could restore her table, too.

But, her mind whispered before she could make a decision, what if he comes back?

And that was the truth of it.

Kobe only lived two floors beneath her. He could come back anytime he wanted to.

He could come back with another knife, or a gun.

He could come back while she was asleep, or while she was taking a bath.

So long as they lived in the same building, she wasn't safe. Not while she was alone.

An image of Ichigo flashed across her mind's eye, and before she could stop herself her feet were moving.

She walked past her living room, ignoring the disaster it had become, and she was practically running by the time she made it to her bedroom.

She wasn't even aware of the tears falling from her eyes as she picked up her phone with shaky hands, flipped it open, and pressed Ichigo's speed-dial button. It took two hands to hold the phone to her ear, and for a long second all she heard was silence.

And then it rang.

It's ringing, she breathed silently. That means it's on. Still, she held her breath as she waited for him to pick up. It rang once.

Twice.

"Orihime?" Ichigo's voice was thick, a mixture of sleep and concern, but strong. Reassuring. Safe.

She pulled in another breath as her knees finally gave out on her and she slumped sideways against the dresser that her phone had been resting on.

Her voice was surprisingly choked, reflecting the tears that were streaming down her cheeks, when she gasped, "I-Ichigo!"

To Be Continued…

A/N: Wow…I feel kinda mean…but it's for a good cause! *ahem* I mean, please tell me your thoughts on chapter eighteen! After all, nineteen will still be there when you're done sharing…. ^_~