godsend
auburn

:

After lunch, Orihime reentered the library. As she went to the table where her things were, her gaze zeroed in on a discarded broadsheet.

A peek won't hurt, right? Nodding to herself, Orihime lifted and unfolded it.

As Ichigo had told her two nights ago, there were several articles about her. Aside from the articles, there were photos of her too. The current ones were of her in the figure-hugging evening gown, causing her to blush in embarrassment.

She flipped through the pages hurriedly to avoid looking at the photographs. A page piqued her interest, which happened to be an entertainment page where a section was provided for gossip. Hinamori told her once that the Imperial Family was a popular target of paparazzi and scandal-mongering, particularly Ichigo.

Gossips rarely caught her eye. It was impossible, though, to avoid them, mostly about Ichigo, at the university. He had many admirers, and admittedly, she had heard various gossips about him.

"That's the gossip page," a voice said behind her, a tinge of amusement coloring the speaker's tone.

Startled, Orihime spun, almost dropping the paper in shock. "Hinamori-san!" She blushed furiously, making Hinamori giggle.

"It's all right. I won't tell Nanao-san," Hinamori teased. Orihime grinned sheepishly, and checked the local news instead. As she skimmed the page, a short article caught her attention.

"Is it common for elected officials to have extended vacation, for at least two months?" Orihime asked without looking up.

"I don't think so. Are you talking about the members of the committee who chose you as the Crown Prince's bride?"

Orihime pointed to the short article. "There's an article here saying they haven't come back from their vacation."

Hinamori nodded. "Apparently, the stress of deciding which woman is eligible was too much to bear. They also suffered criticisms because of their decision." No surprise there. She was, after all, a commoner. She did not belong here. She was working hard to prove her worth, but it was not enough. She was not enough.

"I've heard some rumors about conflicts between the Agency and the committee," Hinamori said, "By tradition, consorts of emperors and crown princes had always been chosen from Nakatomi clan. Have you heard about them?"

Orihime shook her head. "I would've remembered them if they were mentioned at the university. Even the instructors from the Agency who taught me history and traditions didn't mention them."

"They're a very old blue-blood family and extremely secretive. Rumors say they have the power "to trespass into God's territory". And that makes the women of Nakatomi clan valuable. Many clans wanted to possess them, believing that through them all of their ambitions will come true. However, I heard rumors that there aren't many of them left."

"What happened?"

Hinamori tapped her chin. "I read a legend in an old history book I found a couple of years ago. It said that in every fate they manipulated, tragedy befell them. In other words, the misfortune that was supposed to fall on the 'client' went to their family instead."

Orihime's jaw dropped open. "Th-That's cruel!"

Hinamori shrugged. "If it was true, then, it's no laughing matter. So to protect their family, they left the capital and chose to live in a monastery."

Orihime's brow furrowed. "Since they're not available anymore, to keep the Imperial line pure, the Agency wanted the next best thing: a bride from one of the four great Houses."

Many had speculated that Kuchiki Rukia would have been chosen due to her family background and perfect upbringing. Orihime frequently heard her name and saw her face in newspapers: she was said to be intelligent and elegant, and she apparently possessed a sharp tongue. Like the Crown Prince, Rukia was known to be fiercely protective of her privacy.

Ichigo had long refused to discuss his private life. Nevertheless, he had been a frequent object of press speculation regarding purported romances. No romances had been confirmed, yet many women had been linked to him, including Kuchiki Rukia.

Orihime glanced up in thought. I wonder… What is their true relationship? Did they— Her spine stiffened indignantly, catching where her thoughts were heading. Why do I even want to know?

She did not have any right to question the nature of their relationship. Even the slightest curiosity will put her mission at risk. Their marriage was nothing but a means for her to get access to the private life of the Crown Prince to make her mission easier. Her husband was free to pursue other women.

Hinamori smiled awkwardly. "The Agency is very old-fashioned. They want pure-bred heirs."

Heat rose to Orihime's face at the mention of heirs.

Hearing a door opening, Hinamori glanced over her shoulder. Catching a glimpse of Nanao closing the door, she quickly snatched the newspaper from Orihime. "I'm sorry. It's Nanao-san," she whispered. Orihime nodded, giving her a grateful smile.

Orihime waved to Nanao cheerfully. "Good afternoon!"

"Good afternoon. Please take a seat." Orihime promptly obeyed, smoothing down her skirt. "After your successful first public appearance, it was decided to further promote your public image. You will now officially start your duties as the Crown Princess."

Nanao opened her briefcase and from it extracted a thick folder. She put it down before Orihime. Orihime skimmed the first page and gingerly turned to the next page.

"I need you to study everything in that folder," Nanao said. The folder was as thick as the medical books Orihime used to see in the library of the university. Undeterred, she nodded enthusiastically.

"I'll do my best!"

Nanao bowed with a nod of her head and turned to leave but Orihime got to her feet and hurried over to the black-haired woman. "I'm sorry, Nanao-san, this is going to be quick."

"It's all right. What is it?"

Orihime fidgeted with a pleat of her skirt. "May I ask a question?"

"Of course." This caused Orihime to smile with optimism. Nanao was strict, but Orihime believed she was a broadminded person and will understand her feelings. When was the last time she last saw Tatsuki? One month ago? Two months ago? It felt like a decade had passed since she last saw her friend. She had left without explaining anything to her. Her best friend was an overprotective worrywart when it came to her.

"Can I have a Sunday off? Um, this Sunday, if it's okay," Orihime said.

Nanao furrowed her eyebrows. "What for, may I ask?"

Orihime grinned. "I want to see my best friend. Could you arrange our meeting, if that is okay?"

Something analogous to pity flitted over Nanao's face briefly. "I apologize, Your Highness, but that is impossible."

Orihime started. "B-But… Why— Why is it impossible?"

"You have more important things to do, far more important than meeting an old friend." With a small nod of her head, Nanao walked past a flabbergasted Orihime.

"W-Wait, Nanao-san, please!"

Nanao paused and turned to her. "I'm sorry, Your Highness. Trivial things such as meeting up with an outsider are not permitted."

"But she's not an outsider," Orihime pointed out.

"She is not related to you," Nanao replied, "hence, an outsider."

"She's my best friend," Orihime countered, "She's like a sister to me. I know she's very worried about me. I have to see her, tell her I'm all right. Please, Nanao-san, just an hour with Tatsuki-chan is enough for me."

Nanao frowned, weighing her options, and then sighed. "I don't want to give you false hope, but I'll talk to my superiors about your request." Instantly, Orihime's demeanor brightened, but Nanao hastened to add, "Let me tell you, however; the chance of your request being granted is almost zero."

However, Orihime was not discouraged. "But you're still going to try, aren't you, Nanao-san?"

"Yes, I will."

Orihime smiled broadly, relieved. "Thank you! That would be great!"

"Don't forget to study the report I gave you. I'll see you tomorrow for your calligraphy lesson."

:

Nanao had warned her before but hearing the negative result still overwhelmed Orihime. Sliding her trembling hands under the opened book before her, she strained for a smile. "They'll reconsider, right?"

A flicker of sympathy briefly passed over Nanao's eyes before she shook her head, her tone quieter than usual. "The Grand Steward already made his decision."

Orihime opened her mouth to plead her case again, but she hesitated. Nanao already had many duties to deal with, and Orihime knew she had tried her best to help. There were just things that could not be done. Unfortunately, seeing her best friend – something so simple – was one of them.

The next days passed slowly. Her energy refused to return despite her acceptance of not seeing Tatsuki. Hinamori frequently asked her if she was alright and she'd reply with a smile, forcing cheeriness into her tone so as not to worry the other girl. Hinamori would let the matter slide, nodding in acquiescence, but her eyes say otherwise. She was worried, and Orihime felt guilty for worrying her. However, she cannot stop herself from feeling dejected.

Tatsuki was strong, and did not need someone to worry over her, but Orihime was worried that Tatsuki was worried about her. They had parted ways with unanswered questions hanging between them. Tatsuki could keep track of her activities via the media but still, she wanted to provide her best friend with a personal report of her wellbeing. Most importantly, she missed Tatsuki terribly. It felt like the other half of her body had been severed.

With a deep sigh, Orihime fell backward onto the bed and turned to one side. She had been provided with a brief reprieve from her lessons on languages. It was not a difficult subject for her; her brother was fluent in four languages and he taught her the basics. Today, though, she found it hard to concentrate on the lectures.

Grabbing the nearest pillow, she buried her nose into it, one hazel eye peering through the unruly reddish brown strands.

I miss Tatsuki-chan so much… I hope she's not overworking. Knowing her, Tatsuki probably was. She strove for perfection and was fiercely competitive.

With a soft grunt, she hugged the pillow tightly, burying her face into the soft fabric, wondering about the delightful smell coming from the pillow. This is—

"What's wrong with you?"

Startled from her musings, she lifted her face from the pillow. Through messy red strands, she saw a pair of long legs in her line of vision. She blinked but the image did not disappear.

"Orihime."

She closed her eyes and tried to regulate her breathing. Calm down, breathe in, breathe out… Calm down, calm down, calm–

The bed sagged, indicating that Ichigo had sat down next to her.

Oh, forget being calm. Her heart thudded frantically, going bam bam bam so loudly that she thought her heart will jump out of her ribs.

"I was told you were sick."

Orihime flushed. She was not sick; she was sulking and her husband had caught her moping. How embarrassing! Taking a deep breath, she raised her head and brushed her hair off her face. A mistake, she later groaned in her head, because she now had an unobstructed view of her husband's handsome scowling face. The bam bam bam returned with a vengeance.

His frown deepened. "You're red. You really are sick, then?"

Carefully, Orihime sat up, folding her legs under her bottom. "I don't get sick." She winced inwardly; her cheerful voice sounded plastic.

"Everyone gets sick every once in a while."

"Not me," she said promptly. "I don't get sick. Not anymore." The look he gave her caused her smile to twitch uncomfortably. Orihime looked over his shoulder to avoid his gaze. "I-I'm… I'm just feeling a little sleepy today!"

His eyes narrowed. "You're lying. What is it? Why didn't Ise call a doctor?"

"Because I'm not sick," she insisted softly, now gazing at the loop of dark-red hair on her lap.

"Why are your eyes red? Have you been crying?"

Blinking rapidly, she glanced up to him and hurried to contradict his observation. "I'm—"

"Listen," he interrupted. Something about the tone he used caused her to pause in her stammering and stare at him. "You have to tell me what's wrong. I want to know."

Orihime swallowed. "I…" She bit her bottom lip, gripping her skirt. "It's just…" She cast her gaze downward, her tone shaky as she told him about her predicament.

"All I want is an hour with Tatsuki-chan. I just want to reassure her that I'm fine and there's nothing for her to worry about," she continued, looking up to him.

Ichigo studied her face for a while, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Tell me about her."

The thought of Tatsuki made Orihime smile. "She's my best friend." The fondness for this best friend was apparent in her eyes and voice as she continued, "She's strong and kind and is the second strongest girl in Dainipponteikoku!"

Ichigo's eyebrow arched at her last statement. Orihime's smile turned into a goofy grin. "She's a karate champion and she has a very mean hook. She taught me some cool moves. Like this," and she demonstrated a karate move, "She said I have the fighting skills of a black belt."

She giggled at the skeptical look Ichigo shot her. "Tatsuki-chan's always protected me and cheers me up whenever I'm down."

He frowned. "Whom does she protect you from?"

"Oh." She cast her eyes down, biting her lower lip, hesitant to talk about her past. "When I was very young, I always got bullied because of my hair."

His frown deepened, his gaze flickering over the top of her head. "Your hair…?"

Orihime tenderly pulled her hair forward over her shoulders, the full length now pooling on her lap. With a nostalgic smile, she lifted a lock between her thumb and forefinger. "When I was very young, kids my age thought my hair color was weird. When a couple of older girls cut my hair off, I had to lie to my brother that it was I who had it cut. I didn't want him to worry about me, but I knew it hurt his feelings seeing my hair so short." She smiled up at Ichigo who was listening to her attentively. "He always liked my hair color and because of him, I kept it long."

She dropped her hair and curled her hands into fists, putting them on top of each knee.

"Tatsuki-chan has always told me not to back down. She's always there, looking out for me. Because of her, I was able to grow out my hair again and make my brother happy. This long hair is the proof of my faith in Tatsuki-chan and our strong bond."

"…I see."

"I know she's worried about me. I need to see her and tell her that I'm all right. I…" Orihime hesitated for a moment, not wanting to burden Ichigo with her problems. "I should not ask favors from you but… y-you're the only one who can help me."

Ichigo turned a piercing gaze at her. She blushed, embarrassed but pressed on. "Could you tell them to allow me to see Tatsuki-chan? You're the Crown Prince. They will listen to you."

Ichigo gave his head a small shake. "It's not that simple. But I'll try," he added hurriedly, seeing her downhearted expression.

He was rewarded with a bright smile at his answer. "Thank you so much!" Ichigo knitted his eyebrows together.

"Oi, hang on. I said I'll try. I'm not going to promise you a positive result. They," he said, referring to the people from Imperial Household Agency, his expression darkening, looking a little annoyed, "they're not very friendly."

Orihime kept smiling. "I'm still grateful that you'll try. Thank you."

From the corner of his eye, Ichigo glanced at her, examining the length of her hair before speaking again. "So you're going to grow it until it reaches the floor?"

Orihime blinked. The question caught her off-guard; it was kind of strange to hear Ichigo comment about her hair. "Oh… I'm not sure!" she replied, finally out of her startled stupor. "But since I promised myself that I'm not going to cut it ever, it'll probably grow so long! I can even use it as a scarf or a rope!"

Ichigo shifted until he was facing away from her, his back to her. "You're not the only one who had problems because of hair color."

"What do you mean?"

"My parents enrolled me in a normal elementary and junior high school under a false name. The only people who knew my identity were the school principal and the homeroom teacher."

"They did? But don't all children of Imperial Family attend Gakushuin?" she asked, referring to the private school for those of royal blood and extremely affluent families.

Ichigo shrugged. "My mother wanted me to attend a public elementary and junior high school." He ran a hand through his tousled, red-orange hair. Mesmerized, Orihime watched his long fingers sink between orange spikes, leaving them messier than before. "I always got into fights because my hair color pissed people off." He scoffed, his back flexing lazily. "I'm not the type of person who starts petty fights but I got to defend myself, too."

Ichigo stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I'll let you know if they granted your request."

"Your Highness, thank—"

"Orihime," Ichigo cut off, turning around to frown down at her. "Call me by my name. You're my wife. It sounds ridiculous when you address me so formally."

She colored brightly and fidgeted. "I'm sorry. I-I just… We're not… I-I mean…"

"We're not what?"

Her blush deepened, looking at anywhere but him.

"It's not like we're strangers to each other."

"I know…" Orihime mumbled, lowering her lashes.

"I know things that no one knows about you."

Something seized inside her. Heartbeat racing, she curled her hands into small fists. "Wh-What… What do you mean?"

Does he know… my secret?

He shrugged, turning to leave. "You're ticklish, right?"

With a jolt, Orihime looked up to him.

"Eh?"

Pausing, he looked at her over his shoulder. "And your neck's sensitive." His voice dipped lower while his lips curl in a tiny smirk. "Do you want me to continue? There are other parts of your body that are very sensitive to touch…"

Orihime's eyes widened, her face flushing at the thoughts filling her head. "N-No!" she gasped, mortified. "Y-You… You don't have to!" She rose to her knees, waving her hands. Her obvious discomfort seemed to increase Ichigo's amusement, his smirk widening into a brief grin.

For a split second, she was in awe at the sight of Ichigo grinning — a brief peek of what seemed to hide behind his tough façade — then she remembered why he looked amused, and she felt her whole body warm and flush in embarrassment.

Clumsily, she crawled off the bed, her skirt riding up and showing glimpses of pale skin to Ichigo who gazed at the strips of skin with forced indifference.

"Hinamori-san is p-probably looking for me," she squeaked, not looking at Ichigo.

Not bothering to pick up her shoes, Orihime rushed out of the room without sparing him a glance, too mortified to look at him. The door shut behind her and she leaned against it, her heart pounding against her ribs. She covered her red face with her hands.

M-My face is so hot!

"Your Highness, why are you barefoot?" Hinamori's voice snapped her out of her daze.

"A-Ah, Hinamori-san!"

"Your face is so red. Did something happen?"

"Oh! Oh, n-nothing! Nothing at all!" She waved her hand side to side forcefully. "Let's go! Nanao-san is probably looking for me!"

"Wait, Your Highness, where are your shoes!"

:

"Oh, it's Ishida-san! Hi!"

"Good morning." Ishida gave a small bow with a nod of his head. "The Crown Prince sent me here to deliver a message." At the mention of Ichigo, Orihime straightened up in her seat, anxious and excited at the same time. "The Imperial Household Agency denied your request. The Grand Steward wanted to remind you that your duties as the Crown Princess are your priority and nothing else."

In some way, she had expected this. She knew how the Agency felt about her. It still stung, nonetheless.

"I-I understand. Thank you."

Orihime got up and approached a window. She brushed the curtain to the side and stared outside. Behind her, Ishida and Hinamori exchanged glances, before Ishida excused himself.

Without glancing behind her, Orihime said, "Please excuse me, Hinamori-san. I need a moment, please."

"I'll be outside when you need me."

"Thank you." She spent several minutes gazing at the gardens. She had not visited the gardens yet. Perhaps tomorrow she'll go and ask to help tend it. It will definitely help improve her mood.

Behind her, the door creaked open and Hinamori's gentle voice floated in. "Excuse me, Your Highness?"

"Yes," she said without glancing away from the window.

"You have visitors, ma'am."

Before Orihime could reply, a familiar voice said, "Orihime-nee!"

Orihime turned around. Two girls stood in the doorway, regarding her warmly. "Yuzu-chan! Karin-chan!"

Yuzu gave a cheery wave while Karin nodded with a small smile. Orihime's expression brightened in genuine happiness upon seeing them. She stepped away from the window and approached them.

"Are you busy, Orihime-nee?" asked Yuzu with a sweet smile. Orihime shook her head. "Great! We're here to give you this!" The younger girl thrust a white envelope in her hands.

Curious, Orihime opened it. It was an invitation.

"It's our birthday next Saturday and there's going to be a party."

"A party?" exclaimed Orihime in surprise.

"It's next week, May 6th. We hardly celebrate our birthdays with parties, but Onii-chan finally allowed us to hold this one. I've been trying for years, but because of his paranoia of paparazzi breaking in, he always refused," Yuzu explained with a pout. "I'm really glad he changed his mind. Now that you're here, it'll be more special!"

Orihime smiled shyly, touched by the gesture. "Thank you, Yuzu-chan, Karin-chan, for personally inviting me. I've never attended a birthday party before…" she admitted with a small laugh, rubbing the back of her head.

Karin smirked. "It would be my first, too. I don't like parties at all. Too many people, it's annoying."

"Karin-chan!" chided Yuzu.

"What? You know I don't like parties. Anyway, I have to go. I'm beat. You coming, Yuzu?"

"Yup!" Yuzu waved to Orihime. "See you on Saturday, Orihime-nee."

:

When Ichigo entered and closed the door behind him, a stagnant silence welcomed him. Ever since he got married, his quarters had ceased from being this silent. He'd step in and he'd know his wife was in one of their rooms. It was not because she made noises, but there was something in the air that told him of her presence.

Loosening the tie around his neck, he moved toward the bedroom. It was empty; even the study, where he often saw her curled in one of the couches and reading, was empty. He checked the other rooms; all of them were empty. On a wall was an antique round clock showing the time. Ten twenty five. The frown became a deep scowl as he strode out of the room. A passing housekeeper in the corridor told him that the princess had not left the library since afternoon. What could have kept her in the library at this hour?

There he found Orihime at a desk, bowing over the table. At the sound of the door and approaching footsteps, she spoke without looking up. "Hinamori-san, you're still here? You don't have to wait for me. I'll be fine, don't worry!"

"Orihime." She looked up so quickly Ichigo thought she hurt her neck.

"Ichigo-kun?"

Surprised, Ichigo stared at her. It was the first time she addressed him using his first name. "It's past ten. You're still awake," he said after recovering from his surprise. "What are you doing?"

Smiling, she gestured to him to step closer. She appeared to be knitting something which shape had yet to be recognized. "I was thinking of making a stuffed toy for Yuzu-chan and a stuffed football for Karin." She looked up to him, a small frown marring her face. "What do you think? Will they like them?"

"Perhaps. Yuzu likes stuffed toys and Karin plays football."

"That's great– ow!"

"Oi, be careful."

After several minutes of watching her (thrice, she poked her own fingers accidentally), Ichigo decided to intervene. "It's already late, Orihime. Why don't you go to sleep?"

Orihime hesitated. "But— Ow!"

"You can finish them tomorrow. Your fingers are not pincushions."

Putting the recently abused finger in her mouth, Orihime blushed. In fact, she felt tired and sleepy, her eyelids drooping in exhaustion.

"You're right… If I continue in this condition, my gifts will be ruined." After putting away her sewing materials, she followed Ichigo out of the library, yawning and massaging her fingers. After changing into her baggy pajamas, she climbed into the bed and slipped under the sheets. Ichigo did not reappear, prompting her to call out.

"Ichigo-kun?"

There were light shuffles, and Ichigo reappeared, still wearing his undershirt and pants for work. "Yeah?"

"Aren't you going to sleep?" she asked, folding her hands on top of the covers.

He leaned against the doorframe, a hand inside his pocket. "I'm going to finish some reading materials first."

She smiled sleepily, eyes half-lidded. "You work so hard. You have to rest, too."

The corner of his lips turned up in a small smile. "Go to sleep, Orihime. I'll see you in the morning."

:

Two hours later, Ichigo reentered. He was shirtless, only wearing dark-colored drawstring pants. He stopped in the doorway and stood there, the shadows hiding his expression. The room was dimly lit by a crystal lamp. It shone faintly from the bedside table, while the rest of the lights were off, shrouding the other parts of the room in darkness.

He padded across the room, his movements disrupting the shadows, and sat in the armchair. The position of the chair provided him a clear view of his sleeping wife. The light from the lamp touched the half of her sleeping figure, engulfing the other half in darkness.

Lying on her back, her long, thick red hair fanning across her pillow, she slept like a child, deeply, innocently. Few locks curled over her shoulder, her bangs gently framing her right cheek. Her lips were slightly parted as she breathed, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Ichigo leaned back, hidden by the shadows, and watched her slumbering face.

notes. thank you, cindy, as usual!

And to everyone, thank you so much for reading and giving me feedbacks! :D