godsend
principessa
:
Today!
The lightheaded feeling was back, stronger than before. Flustered, Orihime put a hand on her chest and stepped back, feeling faint. She knew she was to marry him, but… isn't this too soon? Things were progressing fast.
A hand touched her shoulder, then. Orihime jerked in surprise, looking up. She flinched under the steady, burning amber gaze, her heart racing like a bullet train.
He was standing close to her.
This is not good, she thought, wide-eyed as she stared back in shock. This is not good.
She was not supposed to react like this. She was not supposed to feel like this – flushed, heart throbbing with nervousness and unnamed emotion at their close proximity.
She did not know how long she stood there, gazing up at Ichigo. She can feel her heartbeat in her ears.
"Shall we go? We have one hour to prepare."
They both looked away from each other; Orihime was blushing while Ichigo remained detached. The hand on her shoulder left. Urahara gestured to Orihime to follow him. Nervous, she flashed a small smile at Ichigo before hurrying, almost tripping in her haste, after Urahara.
She tried very hard not to look behind her.
:
After an hour, Orihime could not recognize the woman standing in the full-length mirror in front of her. The gown was white, strapless and floor-length. It clung to her upper body, showing off her curves and back, causing her to feel extremely self-conscious. The neckline was heart-shaped, accentuating her ample bosom. It had a close fitted waistline which tapered into a full, diaphanous skirt. Her hair was put up into a delicate chignon, adorned with a wreath of white and blue tiny flowers. The only jewelry she wore was a long, thin necklace which she never took off. A pair of blue hairclips hanged off from the thin chain.
"You look beautiful," a tall, grinning woman said from behind her. Orihime glanced at her over her shoulder. The woman had introduced herself earlier as Shihouin Yoruichi. "We don't have enough time for a traditional wedding. The Crown Prince is in such a hurry to marry," Yoruichi added with a smirk while Orihime's blush deepened under her thin make up.
"Take this." She thrust a bouquet of red roses tied together by a thick white ribbon in her hands. Then, she reached forward. "Here, let me help with your veil. There, a really pretty bride you are."
"Thank you," said Orihime softly.
A door swung inward, and in strode a black-haired man. "Five minutes before the ceremony starts!" Yoruichi rolled her eyes and checked her wristwatch.
"Four minutes!"
"Hold your horses, Hisagi!" To Orihime, Yoruichi said, "Are you ready?"
Orihime heaved a deep breath as she squared her shoulders, and closed her eyes. For a second, she saw her brother in the darkness, looking at her over his shoulder, smiling.
"Accomplish this."
She opened her eyes.
"And I will tell you where you can find him."
I will find you. Orihime vowed. No matter what it takes, I will find you.
She lifted her chin and met Yoruichi's gaze.
"I'm ready."
:
By the time they had reached the venue, Orihime was out of breath, her cheeks flushed. In their haste, she had stumbled a few times, but Yoruichi was there to help right her. Still catching her breath, she looked about her and blinked in stunned admiration.
Everything within the garden was blooming and radiant, leaves and petals shining under the spring sunshine. Cherry blossoms, dogwoods and redbuds stood full-bloomed and breathtaking, surrounded by carpets of snowdrops, peonies, hellebores, bloodroots, lilacs, daffodils, azaleas, and primroses.
Surrounded by flowering radiance was a pavilion. Guards circled the perimeter, and some had stopped flitting from their posts to look in Orihime and her security's direction.
"Come on," said Yoruichi. Orihime started and nodded.
They reached the entrance to the pavilion and were led to a hall. The double doors were shut, flanked by guards. Orihime fidgeted with her bouquet as her gown and veil were inspected, folds of cloth and train rearranged, her hair checked.
Orihime felt hands on her shoulders. "Orihime," Yoruichi whispered behind the younger woman's ear. "Good luck."
An unfamiliar piano piece started to play. And for a moment there, Orihime felt a sense of wonder.
Yoruichi stepped back, her hands leaving Orihime. "You'll need it."
When Orihime glanced over her shoulder, Yoruichi was gone.
The doors swung open.
:
She was nervous; the stares, the music, the flowers, the guests – they were all making her nervous.
There were more flower arrangements than people. More guards than guests. Either way, the decorations were lovely and if the circumstances were different, she would have cried with joy at how beautiful everything was.
Orihime stared right ahead. A mistake. She saw him, and she stumbled but caught herself in mid-fall. The back of her ears reddened in embarrassment as whispers floated around her. Embarrassed, she lowered her gaze to the floor, her blush deepening. She concentrated in walking slowly, afraid she'll completely fall over the next time she tripped.
Finally, she reached the end of the aisle.
Ichigo offered her his hand.
She glanced up to him through her veil. He was looking down at her, eyes lidded. His hair was slicked back behind his ears. Shyly, she placed her small hand on his. The static, she tried but failed to ignore. It sent a tingle down her spine, causing her to tear her eyes from his. She could not help it, however, to feel at ease when he wrapped his fingers around her hand. Such a warm hand he had. Strong and large with long fingers. She tried to ignore how good it felt to be held by him. How strange; she felt protected, and at the same time, vulnerable, like she was open to him and he knew her weaknesses, her secrets, the very essence of her. Strange as it was, it was also frightening.
The ceremony began; it was brief and formal. When he kissed her, she, again, tried and failed to ignore that strange feeling welling in her chest. It was a gentle kiss, almost soft. For a man with hard eyes and large hands, he was strangely tender. A rush of affection coursed through her, shocking her. She told herself, stop! Put up your walls, you are here to charm this man, to kill this man. To feel something – anything – was unacceptable.
Only the first day and she was getting soft because he was gentle to her… This attraction will only lead to a disaster.
He took her hand again, and she did not look at him.
:
Orihime wished the day would never end. Not because she was enjoying it, but she dreaded what was about to happen after the festivities.
Looking around her, she remembered her best friend.
The presence of her best friend would have alleviated her distress a little. Strange faces in strange clothes, wearing strange smiles surrounded her. Several guests had been looking in her direction with wariness. There were few who looked genuinely curious, though. One of whom was a young woman with black, short hair. She was petite and on the short side. Despite her height disadvantage, she had a good posture and bearing that made her stand out. This was, after all, Rukia from the House of Kuchiki, one of the four great families that shaped, influenced, and dominated the history and politics of Dainipponteikoku.
The Houses, however, were abolished by former emperor Engetsu as soon as the eleven-year long civil war between the Aizen and Kurosaki clans ended, ending the use of all titles of nobility or rank outside the immediate Imperial Family.
The Emperor laughed and the people around him turned their heads. Glasses clinked. A string quartet continued to play in the background. Glancing over the laughing man, Orihime remembered the private conversation she had had with him and his two daughters after the ceremony.
"Son, you are so lucky! To marry such beautiful girl! Ah, I remember when I married your mom… Oh, such lovely times! I couldn't help but shed a few tears as I watched; it's sad that I have to give you away!"
"Shut up."
The elder Kurosaki gasped. "Why you, my insolent child!" The Emperor pouted. "Orihime, please forgive him! And you," the older man poked Ichigo in the chest, causing the latter's scowl to deepen, "Listen to your wise old man, my son! Take your time in exploring your wife's—"
"I said shut the hell up!" Ichigo snapped.
Orihime gasped, shocked. Wasn't it improper to speak in such way to the Emperor?
"Don't worry about it. It's perfectly normal." Karin, the dark-haired younger girl, must have noticed her expression.
"But…"
"That's how they show how much they love each other. I'm Karin, by the way. And this," she gestured to the smiling blonde girl next to her, "is Yuzu, my twin sister."
"I'm very happy to meet you. I've wanted for so long to have an older sister," Yuzu said happily.
"Welcome to the family, my new daughter," said the Emperor with a broad smile after he recovered from his mild scuffle with his son. "Don't be shy! You can call me father from now on!" He laughed heartily, the sound deep and comforting. "I now have three beautiful daughters, I'm so happy! I'm surrounded by beautiful ladies!"
"Idiot." Ichigo scoffed.
"See, my new daughter? He's so grumpy! But let me assure you, he's very loving and—"
Ichigo grabbed his father's collar and shook him. "Stop it! You're embarrassing her."
Before she could stop herself, Orihime reached over and tugged at Ichigo's sleeve. "I-it's okay." Grunting, Ichigo acquiesced.
The older man practically vibrated in excitement. "You're such an angel, my new daughter! Maybe through you, my son will be redeemed!"
Orihime could only smile weakly.
:
When she entered a dimly-lit room, Orihime already felt faint with anxiety. After taking off her shoes, she ambled nervously around the room, twisting her fingers together, before sitting on the edge of the large bed, oblivious to the magnificence surrounding her. Her veil was discarded; the bouquet, she could not remember where she left it.
She fished the thin necklace from inside her wedding dress and stared at the hairpins hanging from the chain. Orihime was putting it on the bedside table when a knock startled her. She flinched, standing up quickly as the door swung open without a noise.
He stood in the doorway, head tilted downward. When he lifted his face and their eyes met, her heart fluttered and a strange muscle deep within her clenched.
The door shut behind him, and he stood there like the prince he was, tall, intimidating, imposing. His coat and vest were gone, and his long-sleeved shirt was untucked, the cuffs of his sleeves unbuttoned. His hair was no longer as neat as it was during the ceremony.
It felt as though the world had stopped around them. She cannot move.
They stared at each other quietly; she, wide-eyed; he, indifferent. Despite the indifference, she could feel the intensity of his gaze scoring her flesh.
When he began to move closer, Orihime stiffened. Ichigo reached up to loosen his tie and unbutton his collar. As he moved, she watched him carefully, trying to subdue her racing heartbeat. He had a careless, rough grace about him; the way he walked, the stride of his long legs, the way his muscles rippled at every step reminded her of a large cat – silent, graceful, focused.
At a glance, he almost looked harmless, but she knew it was an illusion; the air he gave off was of a lazy, but lethal, predator. His silent strength, his blazing eyes; it was a dangerous, thrilling combination.
He was closer now – and the air between them seemed to compress into itself – and moving toward her with slow, deliberate pace. It felt like she was being teased and tormented at the same time, and something else she refused to name. Every forward move he made, she took unsteady steps back. The corner of his mouth curled in a small smile, one she could not interpret. His hooded eyes remained guarded, though.
Orihime stood still and panicked when she realized she had been trapped between the wall behind her and the approaching man made of silk and steel; bam bam bam her heart went. Trembling, she pressed herself against the wall.
The black tie finally fell to the floor. He now focused on unbuttoning his shirt. It was halfway unbuttoned when he stopped and his arms fell to rest at his sides.
"Orihime."
At the sound of his voice, she felt her knees weaken. She bit her bottom lip, her heart racing faster, her lower belly clenching. These reactions he induced by calling her name caught Orihime off guard.
He took another step, disrupting her thoughts. She inhaled sharply, his closeness and scent distracting her. Even worse, she felt something hot stir in her at his nearness. She peered up at him through her thick lashes. She cannot read his expression, and she realized this man was an expert in hiding his emotions. Not that he had any sort of feelings towards the situation at hand.
"Breathe."
She took a deep but very shaky breath.
"Don't be afraid," he said quietly.
"I'm… not afraid," she whispered. Anxious, she was, but afraid that he might hurt her, she was not. What terrified her were her body's foreign reactions to Ichigo. She hadn't experienced those kinds of feelings before. Their intensity was making her dizzy.
He lifted his hands to her hair and plucked the pins that held up her hair. Some petals from the torn wreath clung to her hair. Her rich, sunset-colored hair tumbled down slowly, lock by lock, falling over and around her shoulders and framing her face. He ran his fingers through her hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers. This gesture felt surprisingly intimate, causing the tension to slowly seep off her body.
"Good." Ichigo lowered his face, moving closer until the tips of their noses were touching. "I'll be gentle."
Orihime met his gaze. His eyes had not changed, but they were not as detached as before. She smiled and said, "Thank you."
He did not reply and kissed her.