godsend
she
:
At a table near a full bookshelf, Orihime was hunched over a pile of papers. After jotting down the final paragraph for her essay, she pushed the papers to the side and sorted through the books inside her satchel. She found the old copy of Kawabata's Palm-of-the-hand Stories. It was her brother's and the only item she had brought from her apartment.
Orihime leafed through the pages, pausing occasionally to read the notes penciled in the margins, smiling wistfully as she traced the familiar handwriting. In her profound preoccupation, she did not notice Rangiku enter the library and take the seat next to her.
"So," drawled Rangiku in her ear. Orihime jumped in surprise, eyes huge as she looked to her right.
Afternoon sunlight entered through a bay window, penetrating the thin white drapes. It cast a faded glow over Rangiku's blond hair, and the playful glint in her eyes made them bluer. Orihime's mouth formed a curious 'o' when an arm curled around her shoulders and locked her in place.
"I need all the juicy details. Spill it."
Orihime had looked confused at first then her expression became mortified, and she looked away. Rangiku nudged her but she determinedly kept her gaze on the cover of the book she was gripping tightly.
"Are you alright," asked Rangiku, sounding genuinely worried; Orihime's face had turned so red it was almost possible to outdo the color of her hair.
"I-I am," Orihime stuttered with a stiff nod, still very scarlet in the face.
The grin on Rangiku's face got wider. "Was it really that good?"
Orihime jerked. "R-Rangiku-san!" she gasped in embarrassment, hands on her face. With the level of blushing she was having, it should not be possible to get redder in the face but Orihime's did. Rangiku laughed with a toss of her magnificent head, causing Orihime to puff out her cheeks.
"All right, all right, I won't ask for details. But you enjoyed it, right?" Orihime bit her lip and did not reply. "Don't be shy. We're both women so it's all right!"
Rangiku waited patiently, watching Orihime's face. Her expression had turned serene, looking as though she was imagining beautiful scenery.
"Ichigo-kun was very k-kind, gentle…" Her voice was soft, and the gentle smile on her face made her even more endearing. "And…" She blushed suddenly, and she was again determinedly avoiding Rangiku's eyes.
"That means yes, right?"
Her honey-colored eyes had luminous glint in them when she looked up. There was something innocent in them despite their subject matter, and it prompted Rangiku to stop her teasing – if only for a moment – and gave Orihime an encouraging smile. In reply, Orihime gave a quick nod and covered her red face with both hands when Rangiku gave another amused titter.
"My, my, still very shy." Rangiku patted the back of her head. "You know, there's nothing wrong with enjoying intimate moments with your husband. It's natural to take pleasure in physical intimacies. The important thing is that you're not being forced into it. If it was something you want, then what's not to enjoy?"
The fidgeting returned with full force, a new concern cropping up hard. "B-But w-what if I… I'm n-not sure if I… W-What if he…"
"Speak clearly, lady."
Orihime took a deep breath. "W-What if I-I disappointed him?" Her voice sounded brittle, shaking. "I-I think… I d-did something w-wrong!"
Rangiku frowned.
Orihime looked down, feeling ashamed. "I'm so selfish, aren't I? I'm sure he didn't l-liked it as m-m-much as I did because I'm an idiot and inexperienced and—"
"I've had enough!" Rangiku interjected, holding up a hand. "First off, you're not selfish. Here you are, stuttering and feeling bad. Which is, by the way, stupid, if you ask me. Second, you're not an idiot. Yes, you're inexperienced but it doesn't mean you're stupid!" Despite these reassurances, Orihime was still distressed.
"You don't need to be worried." Rangiku squeezed Orihime's shoulder. "There's no right way and wrong way in sex." Rangiku gave a small laugh as Orihime turned red at the last word. "It's about being happy! To be honest, one doesn't really need to be 'experienced' to enjoy sex. Instincts, urges, feelings – those are what matter. It's pretty obvious you two are attracted to each other so I'm sure he enjoyed it as much as you did."
Orihime swallowed. Was she really that obvious? And Ichigo, attracted to her? The thought was absurd. He could have anyone he wanted; someone prettier, more intelligent, and truly elegant.
"And who would not enjoy shagging a little hottie like you?" Rangiku said teasingly.
"Ra-Rangiku-san!" Orihime sputtered, hiding her red face. Chuckling, Rangiku shook her head at her shyness.
"Relax, darling. Next time you two do it, use your imagination and just, you know, enjoy it, enjoy him. Because it's something you want and you want him."
You want him.
This was an essential truth. And she was afraid to discover more truths.
"Anyway," Rangiku leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially, "wanna hear some tips?"
Orihime stared at her, eyes huge. "Tips?"
A grin almost split Rangiku's face into two. It made Orihime think of a fictional cat. "Don't worry, I'll teach you different tricks!" She put on her strict teacher face and said in a serious tone, "There are so many techniques to choose from. From basics to advanced techniques, guaranteed to make your love life more exciting. There are role plays, different positions, costu—"
"I hope I am mishearing you, Matsumoto-san," a new voice cut in coolly.
Both women jumped in surprise. "Oops?" Rangiku quipped drolly as she turned her head to face the owner of the voice.
Nanao was staring down at her sternly. "May I," she began testily, "remind you that you are employed here to teach our Crown Princess about etiquette, proper gait and posture, and dress code?"
Rangiku huffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "She already knows those things. Besides, why was it me who got to teach all that boring stuff?" It seemed that they were the wrong words to say because Nanao's already narrowed eyes became narrower, her lips were very thin, and there was a vein bulging in her neck. Rangiku must have sensed an impending explosive reprimand because she quickly made her exit after a hasty but playful goodbye to Orihime, telling her that their 'extracurricular' lesson will be continued some other time.
"You did a great job today." Nanao told Orihime, still frowning but looking somewhat pleased. That morning, Orihime had had participated in a welcome reception.
Orihime smiled gratefully, relieved. "Thank you, Nanao-san. I was nervous at first. I'm so glad Ichigo-kun was there with me. If he wasn't, I don't think I'd remember what to do and say. Despite all the things you've taught me, I still feel very nervous whenever someone important starts a conversation with me. I'm afraid I'd say something silly and embarrass Ichigo-kun and his family."
"You just need a lot of practice. That's why you need to attend more parties and receptions so that you'll get used to talking to people of high rank." Nanao frowned at the notepad she held in her hand. "That reminds me. I got a call from Ishida-san. Kuchiki Byakuya is having a party to honor contemporary artists. You and the Crown Prince are invited."
Orihime's eyes became very round, a nervous look appearing on her face. "There's going to be a lot of people, isn't there?"
"About two-hundred, I imagine."
:
Three days later, in a scarlet embroidered chiffon a-line dress with a black ribbon around her waist, Orihime fidgeted in the backseat of the car. Her hair was curled up in a casual updo, held together by blue pins, revealing her pale neck. She was not used to her neck being bare; it made her feel vulnerable, but Hinamori had looked very happy with her work so she got along with it.
"Your Highness." Orihime looked away from the window. Hisagi, who sat in the passenger seat, handed her a cell phone.
Taking the proffered device, Orihime pressed it to her ear. "Ichigo-kun? Hi, am I late?" she asked worriedly.
"Actually, I called to tell you that I'm going to be late."
"Did something happen?"
On the other line, Ichigo's ergonomic chair squeaked forward.
"My last meeting ran late. I'll get there as soon as I'm done." His voice lowered. "With or without me, you'll do fine. Just be yourself."
"Thank you," she whispered, her heart fluttering.
"I have to go. I'll see you later at the party."
The Kuchiki family mansion had four floors, modern and as elegant as Kuchiki Byakuya himself. She was escorted to a vast room with French doors that opened to patios. It was decorated in white and pale gold, with round white hanging lanterns, light strings and vases of white orchids along the walls.
Her presence was announced and it was mostly smiling thereafter. Hisagi and her other guards maintained their distance, opting to blend in with the crowd. Orihime smiled at everyone present – artists, businessmen, upper-class professionals, remarkably pretty and fashionable women – thanked them politely for their compliments, and smiled more. She tried to feel at ease at being the center of attention, but she knew she'll never get used to it. She did not have to, anyway.
Rangiku's all of a sudden appearance was a pleasant surprise.
"Rangiku-san!" she exclaimed, delighted to see a familiar face. "You didn't tell me you'll be here."
Her mentor, stunning in blue cocktail dress, gestured to the man standing beside her. "Gin invited me."
"We've met before, didn't we, Princess?"
In all honesty, Orihime found his grinning face disconcerting. Perhaps it was because despite his friendly smile, there was something about him that made her uneasy. But she smiled politely and nodded.
"You were with Aizen-san before."
His grin widened. "Flattered ta know I wasn't forgotten." Turning to Rangiku, he offered his arm to her. "Shall we go, Rangiku?"
"I hope you don't leave me on my own and go off with Aizen."
"You know it always breaks my heart ta leave ya."
Placing a hand on the crook of Gin's elbow, Rangiku shook her head, looking unimpressed. "I only accepted your invitation because of curiosity and free champagne." With one last smile at Orihime, the couple walked off.
Another guest and his date, a beautiful foreigner who spoke their language perfectly, turned up to talk with Orihime.
"My, how truly stunning you are in person, Your Highness."
"Thank you. Your words are too kind, ma'am."
Amongst the many guests, a young woman with dark hair observed Orihime with interest.
After a chat with a well-dressed and impeccably articulate woman, Orihime informed Hisagi that she will be in the patio to get some air. Crystal lanterns lit the terrace. Up above, the moon peeked through the clouds.
Leaning against a railing, she heaved a deep breath and enjoyed the silence and cool breeze.
A moment later, however, two pairs of footsteps entered and incensed voices filled the silence.
Curious, Orihime turned toward the voices and there, standing a few steps away from her were two figures. One of them had a slim stature, but her voice was sharp and confident. The other was a tall man with red hair tied in a ponytail and a thick black headband. He looked rather unapproachable with those black markings on his face, causing Orihime to eye the tall man with something akin to horror and curiosity. What has he done with his eyebrows?
The peeved look on the woman's face became more pronounced. Both of them were unaware of their confused audience.
"I don't get why you have to follow me. I'm not a child who needs to be coddled." The woman was saying hotly. The man scowled, opening his mouth but the woman continued, "I'm in my brother's home. Surely, there is no need for you to watch over me in such a highly secured place."
"I'm not coddling you. I'm spending time with you."
She looked stunned for a long moment.
Orihime grabbed the chance to speak. "Um, excuse me?" Both started and turned their heads toward her. "H-Hi, Kuchiki-san."
A look of surprise passed over Rukia's face. "Your Highness." She dipped her head forward in respect. "What are you doing here? Is there something wrong?"
"Oh, everything's perfect, Kuchiki-san! I just wanted to get some air." She cut the tall man a sheepish glance. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean to intrude."
"It's all right." The irritated look on Rukia's face returned and she gestured to the man beside her without looking at him. "This is Abarai Renji."
"Yo."
An elbow to the stomach forced the redhead to bow. "Show some manners, Renji!"
"Oof! Okay, okay… Jeez. Er, good evening, ma'am."
Orihime responded with a smile. Rukia frowned. "Where's Ichigo? He isn't with you?"
"Oh, he's on his way."
Still frowning, Rukia nodded in understanding. "If you don't mind, I could accompany you while you wait for him." Turning to the redhead beside her, Rukia smiled sweetly, though her eyes remained sharp. "You need not to escort me, Renji. Why don't you go and attach yourself to my brother's hip or something?"
Without waiting for his reply, Rukia walked up to Orihime and put a hand on her elbow, guiding her back inside.
"I'm sorry you had to see that," Rukia said after a few minutes as they weaved through the chatting guests. The string quartet was playing Moon River. Next to them, a white piano gleamed like a new machine.
"It was I who should apologize. I felt like I have intruded. I'm sorry," Orihime responded with a nervous smile, anxious that she had offended Rukia.
"It was nothing, really. Just a silly squabble, is all." A waiter passed by and offered them each a glass of wine. Rukia arched an amused eyebrow at the curious look Orihime was casting at her glass. "What's wrong?"
"O-Oh!" Orihime blushed shyly. "Um, I've never drunk wine before," she confessed softly.
Rukia smiled, looking amused. "Well, there's always a first time in everything." Orihime beamed back, her feelings of nervousness evaporating slowly at the sight of Rukia smiling. She took a small sip. It tasted bitter and strong, creating a burning sensation as the liquid slid down her throat, causing Orihime to wrinkle her nose. Rukia let out a small chuckle upon seeing her expression.
"You'll get used to it, trust me."
"I h-hope so! Umm, Kuchiki-san?" Rukia raised one elegant eyebrow inquiringly. Orihime smiled innocently. "You and Abarai-kun seem close."
A flush rose to Rukia's cheeks as she glared off to the side. "He stays close to me because my brother told him so."
"But he looks hurt when you sent him away…" Rukia turned to stare at her unblinkingly, causing Orihime to panic. "Oh no, no, I-I'm sorry, Kuchiki-san!"
"Don't be." Rukia shook her head and frowned again. "And I doubt it. That man's too insensitive that it'll take a dozen of beatings to hurt him."
"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you known each other?"
"Since we're children," Rukia said. "Our family valet adopted Renji when he was toddler. When the valet died, Renji replaced him and worked closely with my brother. They're always together."
Orihime looked around and caught a glimpse of red hair of a tall man. He was looking around, his eyebrows furrowed, making his face even more intimidating. When his eyes fell upon them, specifically on Rukia, his frown deepened. Kuchiki Byakuya appeared behind him and spoke to him. With one last look at Rukia, Renji followed Byakuya and they disappeared in the crowd.
"How have you found your husband so far? I hope Ichigo's not terrifying you with his awful face and equally awful personality. He's such a sour character."
"Oh, Ichigo-kun's not like that," Orihime protested gently. Rukia raised an eyebrow, causing Orihime to blush deeply as she explained. "I-I mean, his face is not awful at all. He's very, very good-looking, as a matter of fact! He's also very kind and even offered to teach me how to swim!"
Rukia looked half amused, half skeptical. "Are you sure we are talking about the scowling, short-tempered, sour Ichigo? The Crown Prince you married last spring?"
"U-Un!"
"I can't believe it. Ichigo is nothing but sullen and hot-tempered. Having his heart on your little palm must have redeemed him."
Orihime dropped her eyes. "It's n-nothing like that," she said quietly. Rukia emptied her glass before putting it on a nearby table.
"I am aware of the circumstances of your marriage." Orihime looked at Rukia nervously. "I may have enjoyed maligning Ichigo behind his back but I know his heart is in the right place and I want, with all my heart, to see him happy. You seem to be the type of person he'll get strongly attached to so I hope in due course you'll learn to care for him in a way a wife cares for her husband."
"Kuchiki-san…"
"Like you said, he's very kind. It wouldn't be too hard, would it?"
"I…"
Rukia reached over to pat Orihime on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You'll get there eventually. For the time being, enjoy the wine while he's not here." Rukia took two new glasses of wine from a passing waiter. "Ichigo rarely drinks. He doesn't like alcoholic beverages that much, that old-fashioned sourpuss."
Giggling lightly, Orihime took the wineglass from Rukia. "Thank you!" Sipping slowly, she eventually got use to the taste. "Mm, you're right, Kuchiki-san. It's not as strong as before!"
With a self-satisfied smile, Rukia raised the glass to her lips.
While they drank and chatted, a man in black suit came over. "Kuchiki-dono." Both women looked up. "Your brother wishes to speak with you."
"All right." Rukia smoothed down her skirt gracefully. "Excuse me for a moment."
Orihime nodded with a large smile. "Take your time! I'll be here." Rukia seemed to hesitate to leave, but she nodded and left.
As soon as Rukia left, her eyebrows knitted in concern as Orihime wondered on what had been taking Ichigo this long to arrive. Had something happened? But if something did, Hisagi would inform her right away, would not he?
Her eyes flickered over the musicians; they were now playing She. Orihime lifted the glass to her lips when a hand curled around her wrist, stopping her. Startled, she looked down to the large hand then to her right, blinking at the man holding her wrist.
He smiled at her, resplendent in a black suit and cream-colored tie. "How many glasses have you had so far?" She turned red in the face, embarrassed. "I don't think your husband will approve."
:
As expected, flashes of light greeted Ichigo's vision as soon as he stepped out of the car. This only caused his scowl to deepen as he glared at the line of photographers. One of them boldly came forward, clicking his camera away. Sado stepped in between the overzealous photographer and Ichigo, his tall, muscular frame instantly sending the smaller man into retreating.
Inside the function room, Ichigo exchanged succinct greetings with other guests, hardly remembering their faces and names, except those he knew and worked with personally.
"Excuse me, I need to find someone." He left quickly, scanning the large room with a frown. He was interrupted a couple of times of people who approached him but he always managed to excuse himself and leave before the conversation could ever begun.
There was, however, one exception.
"Ichigo."
He turned to face the owner of the voice he had known for a very long time.
"Senna."
Senna smiled up at him. "Hi. It's been a long time, hasn't it? How have you been?"
"Busy," he replied with a small smile. "When did you arrive?"
"Two days ago. It's unfortunate that I wasn't able to attend your wedding. The papers said it was beautiful."
"I didn't expect you'd be here. You said you'll stay in Paris for two years."
"Things changed," she answered quietly. Ichigo nodded and searched the crowd again. Senna noticed this.
"Are you looking for someone?"
He nodded. "I am."
"Who are you looking for?"
"My wife."
Senna laughed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "It's weird to hear those words from you. It's unbelievable. This is not like you."
Looking nonchalant, Ichigo raised an eyebrow at her. "Why, what am I like?"
Her look of composure cracked, but only for a second. "I'm surprised, is all. You readily agreed to marry someone you didn't know. Last time we talked, you said…" Her words trailed off, uncertain how to continue. Her hesitation did not last long, however. She straightened her back and looked at him in the eye.
"You said that you'd rather marry someone you know than marry a stranger."
"And when I proposed, you said no."
His tone was blasé, but it still stirred a feeling within her. "Ichigo, you know how important my career is to me. If I married you, I'll have to quit dancing and ballet is a huge part of who I am." Ichigo said nothing. "But I realized that there are more important things in life. I was ready to return last April. But I heard the news of your engagement and I—"
"Senna," Ichigo said.
"You must think I've regretted my decision," she murmured.
He shook his head. "No. Like you said, I know how important your dreams are to you. And you're right; if you married me, you'll have to give up your dreams and you'll be stuck in the palace all your life. I don't want that to happen to you."
"Ichigo…"
He smiled slightly and glanced around again. Senna had to wonder what kind of woman this Inoue Orihime was to hold Ichigo's attention like a marching band.
"She's right over there." If he noticed a hint of vexation in her tone, he did not show it. He blinked at her and followed her gaze.
Because she was watching him, Senna noticed an abrupt change in his expression. His expression had turned stony and it was hard to read the look in his eyes, but she could tell it was not pleasant.
"She's beautiful, Ichigo." He remained silent, eyes heavy lidded. "Her beauty is definitely outstanding. Outstanding enough," she paused to study his reaction, "to catch his attention."
It did not, however, incite a response from Ichigo who still looked unmoved. "Shall we join them, Ichigo?" He looked at her, frowning. "I want to meet her. She seems interesting. Don't tell me you don't want your wife to meet me?" she added with a mischievous smile when he did not reply.
"Nervous I might let slip something?" She laughed at his perplexed expression. "Just kidding! It's not like we have a secret or something, right?" Ichigo's frown deepened. Senna continued, "Unless you consider you asking me to marry you a secret. Don't want to let her know she was a second choice?"
"It doesn't matter." He shook his head when a waiter offered him a drink. "Let's go."
:
"You look beautiful."
She turned red and gave a shy smile. "Thank you, sir."
"I hope you're adjusting well."
"Yes. Everyone's been very helpful."
He nodded, still smiling his magnetic smile, nodding and saying hello to each guest who passed by them.
"And your husband?" he said.
"Supportive," she answered simply, not comfortable with discussing her marriage. Rukia was different; she's a good friend of Ichigo. On the other hand, Aizen was the Minister of Foreign Affairs and came from the old rival clan of the Imperial Family. Like the Kurosaki family, the Aizen clan descended from Seiwa Genji.
"I'm glad. Our Crown Prince, if you read the newspapers, is not very genial."
Orihime gave a small smile. "I understand how difficult it was to suddenly marry a stranger."
"That's true." He nodded and swirled the contents of his glass. "Most especially if you already have someone you wish to marry."
Something lurched inside her. Stiff and suddenly feeling numb, Orihime stared at him, unable to mask her surprise and confusion.
"I heard that he proposed, perhaps to the only girl he genuinely liked, but was rejected." He must have noticed her expression for he added, "Oh? Didn't he tell you?"
Orihime tried to ignore the dull throbbing in her chest, but to no avail. She had felt this before. It was the same horrible feelings that exasperated her when she found out that Ichigo had spent an afternoon with Rukia on his birthday. It was frustrating and shameful, but she could not help but admit to herself that she was jealous of yet another woman.
Get a grip of yourself, she did not matter. It did not matter if he was in love with someone.
But she desperately wished that she would stop hurting.
She gave a wan smile, hoping her voice and face were not betraying her emotions.
"I don't think it matters if he told me or not."
He smiled kindly, brown eyes twinkling. "You have a point. It's not important anymore. You two are now married. Yes, it was an arranged marriage but I'm sure, in time, you two will create a strong bond." He leaned closer to her. "Besides, you're a very beautiful woman."
Orihime's brow furrowed, confused and surprised at the same time. She did not expect to hear that.
Aizen's handsome face broke into another smile and something seemed to stir in his dark eyes. "It's not difficult to be enamored of you."
"That's a very keen observation, Aizen."
Orihime flinched and spun around.
:
"Ichigo-kun!"
Ichigo glanced at her. Her expression had brightened at the sight of him. But just as soon as he had noticed this, it faded. The corners of her mouth turned down, honey-colored eyes flickering to the side, looking as though she had recalled something painful. She seemed to collect herself after a moment, met his eyes and smiled warmly.
He watched her closely for a second then leveled Aizen with a cool gaze. "You don't mind me cutting in, do you?" He was smiling lazily, but his eyes were indifferent as he took Orihime's hand.
"Not at all." Aizen beamed. "I believe this is my cue to leave." He turned to Orihime. "Thank you for your time. I enjoyed spending time with you." Orihime colored slightly. With one last nod at Ichigo, Aizen brushed past the Crown Prince.
He turned to Orihime, frowning down at her. "What did he talk to you about?" Orihime stiffened and looked down, but Ichigo did not miss the brief flash of pain in her eyes.
"Nothing important," she answered quietly. He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to demand more answers, but Senna interrupted him.
"Aren't you going to introduce me, Ichigo?"
In front of him, Orihime lifted her head, regarding the woman in a swath of black beside him with curiosity. He nodded, still watching Orihime.
"Orihime, this is Senna. Senna, my wife, Orihime."
"Hello," said Senna.
"Good evening."
Senna's lips curved in a smile. "You have a fitting name." Then she gave Orihime a casual onceover. "And perfectly polite with amazing fashion sense."
Orihime smiled shyly. "I had a lot of help."
"That's good." She turned to Ichigo, smiling in a way as if she was amused by something. "They chose a suitable replacement, didn't they, Ichigo?"
He felt Orihime stiffen, her smile losing its softness. An odd expression had flitted over her face before she smiled again. But the smile she was giving now was carefully civil, not warm, but polite.
"Yes, they did," she said, still smiling in that peculiar way. "And they're training me well." A flash of recognition flickered in her eyes. Then she faced him fully, unsmiling once more. The weight of her gaze felt staggeringly heavy but it was only brief, her eyes dropping to stare past his ear.
"Your Highness," she began. The distance in her tone and the usage of formal address made him narrow his eyes. "Please excuse me. I need to speak with Rangiku-san."
"Senna," Ichigo dragged out after Orihime left.
"What," she said, blinking innocently. "What did I do?"
He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "We'll catch up some other time."
"Can we meet tomorrow?" Ichigo frowned. "You said we'll catch up," Senna added quickly. "If you're busy tomorrow, we can meet up the day after tomorrow. I don't mind waiting for your schedule to clear up."
When Ichigo said nothing, she said, "Please."
"What time," Ichigo finally asked.
Senna gave a wide smile. "Around dinner time, if that's okay."
Ichigo appeared to ponder this, and then he nodded. "Where are you staying? I'll send a car for you."
:
The dull throbbing had returned with vengeance. It cropped hard in her chest, overcoming her. Replacement. No, no, she was not. She was a tool, picked by the Boss to fulfill a task. She was here for a mission, for information, for her brother. Not for love, not for happy ever after. Therefore she had no right to feel hurt— No, she thought firmly. She was not hurt; it was just a silly stomachache or a bad case of heartburn. This nagging ache was irrelevant.
Orihime found Rangiku in the patio, leaning against a railing, clutching a bottle of wine and a wineglass. "Rangiku-san?"
Blonde hair swirled around. "Oh, you're here!"
"Where's your escort?"
Rangiku shrugged. "With Aizen, I'm sure, to who-knows-where. Well, it's not important! We have free food and," she tapped the bottle, grinning, "A bottle of Chardonnay! But I only have one glass. Oh, wait here!" She shoved the bottle in Orihime's hand.
"But Rangiku-san—" But the woman had already disappeared inside and reappeared a minute later.
"Tadah! A glass for you!" She poured herself a glass. "Mmm, excellent!" She smacked her lips together, grinned and emptied her glass. "As usual, this party is full of pompous aristocrats."
"I met and talked with Kuchiki-san. She's very nice."
"Hmm… Hey, you're not drinking! Drink up!"
"Oh, I've already drunk a few glasses."
"Aww, come on~ I can't drink this whole bottle by myself! Drink with me."
"B-But…"
Rangiku was already filling her glass. "This is an excellent wine! You've been working so hard these days. Just for today, unwind, relax, and have a bit of fun!"
Orihime bit her lower lip, unsure; she already felt warm with an odd feeling of heaviness. Rangiku playfully fluttered her eyelashes at her. Giving in, she lifted the glass to her lips.
"Great! Cheers!"
The bottle of Chardonnay was half-empty when Rangiku's escort found them. "What now?" she snorted, frowning uncharacteristically.
Gin grinned at Orihime before addressing Rangiku. "I've been lookin' all over fer ya."
"Oh please." Rangiku crossed her arms below her breasts. "Don't kid me."
"Ran-chan, I don't think it's wise to have this conversation in front of ta Crown Princess." Gin took her elbow. "Let's talk about this in private." Rangiku rolled her eyes and marched inside. Gin gave Orihime a nod, still wearing his grin and followed Rangiku.
With a sigh, Orihime put down her glass and leaned her hip against the railing. Eyes closed, she rubbed her temple. A cold breeze passed by and she savored it, but the warmth brought about by the wine soon faded and she began to shiver. She welcomed the chill anyway, using it to numb the pain —no, it was just a silly heartburn.
A tear escaped and she hurriedly swiped it. She had to be strong. There was no time to get jealous and insecure over the women who shared significant affiliation with Ichigo.
Her brother used to tell her it was not healthy to repress emotions. If you're angry, be angry. If you're sad, be sad. It's okay to cry, Orihime, it doesn't mean you're weak. But that was when he was here and this is now. He left. Missing, to be precise.
Sora would have been right, had it another time, had she been a normal girl. The need to bury, repress, and ignore what she felt was a necessity. She cannot afford to acknowledge them because once she did, they will overwhelm her and she cannot— will not let it happen.
She had to find him. She will find him.
"What the hell were you thinking? It's fucking cold out here!"
She started. Then something warm engulfed her shoulders before she was spun around and became face to face with Ichigo. He looked angry, eyes ablaze, making her nervous and her pulse to race.
"I-I'm sorry… I didn't—" She gasped when he jerked her forward to his chest. His arms curled around her like steel bands. Without thinking, as though it was the most natural thing to do, Orihime twined her arms around his middle, burying her face in his chest. His body heat warmed her up instantly, one of his hands stroking the back of her tense neck.
With a sigh, Orihime snuggled closer to him. It was odd how his presence made her feel at ease now when it was he – or something related to him – who had made her unhappy in the first place.
"Let's go home."
She looked up from his chest. "We're leaving?"
He observed her, still supporting her neck, and Orihime hoped he did not see what she hid, what she felt. "You look tired."
She did feel tired, a bone-deep type of tiredness that does not fade after a long sleep.
"I'm fine," she said as she tried to smile.
He scowled. "You're not a good liar."
Orihime smiled sheepishly. Ichigo just shook his head. "But is it all right? You just arrived."
"To hell with this party," he grunted.
"I'm glad you're finally here, Ichigo-kun." Orihime laid her head against his chest. "I was getting worried that something might have happened to you." She felt his arms tighten around her.
"How was your evening?"
She looked up with a smile. "I managed to make a decent conversation with everyone who came over to talk to me. There were times that I didn't know if I was doing it right. I don't want to make a mistake and embarrass you and your family and disappoint all the people who've been helping me. I… I…" Her eyelashes lowered. "I want to show them that even though I'm a commoner, I can be a little elegant too."
He pulled her closer and whispered in her neck, "You don't have to be elegant. You're fine the way you are."
Orihime could swear her whole face was red, even her ears and neck. He lifted his face from her neck, crooking an eyebrow at her furious blushing. "I-I also talked to Kuchiki-san!" she said hurriedly.
"You meant Rukia, right?"
"Un! At first, I was nervous because she's so elegant and beautiful I'm afraid I'll make a fool out of myself. But she talked to me as though we knew each other for years. We even drank wine together!" At this, Ichigo wrinkled his nose in disapproval. "How long have you been friends with her?"
"Since I was sixteen."
"No wonder she knows you very well."
Ichigo snorted. "The midget said something about me, didn't she?"
Pulling away, Orihime gave him a disapproving frown. "Don't call her like that, Ichigo-kun. She's your friend." Ichigo put his arms around her hips and leaned forward, his mouth near her ear.
"So you're on her side now?"
Orihime lifted her chin in soft defiance. "Only because you're being mean."
He hauled her against his body, making her squeak, their bodies pressed fully against each other. His eyes seemed to spark as he regarded her with a small, lazy smile.
Instinctively her body arched closer to his male hardness when his hand slowly traced her spine.
"You're supposed to stick to me. Through thick and thin, remember?"
She was burning inside now, as if her blood were throbbing with fever. She gripped his sleeves in her trembling fingers. Then she remembered what she was, what her mission was. That she cannot allow her feelings to overwhelm her.
Orihime swallowed, lifted her eyes, saw the way he was looking at her and looked away quickly. "T-Then y-you shouldn't call her like that," she whispered, her voice coming out as strangled. She wet her lips, her blush deepening as she felt his gaze follow the movement of her tongue.
"What happened while I was gone and made you her number one defender?" His breath touched her cheek, and a tremor slithered down her spine and between her thighs, making them quiver. "Next time, I won't let you go to parties alone," Ichigo added, only half teasing.
Orihime smiled, lifting her gaze. Their eyes met with staggering impact, and they stared at each other for a long time without speaking.
"I need something to drink." Ichigo finally said, sounding gruff. He squeezed her, hard enough to make her bite her lip to stifle her moan.
"Keep the jacket," he grumbled when he let her go and she attempted to remove it. "You're showing too much skin…"
"But Ichigo-kun, it'll look weird if I wear your jacket. It doesn't match my dress."
Still frowning, he watched her slide the jacket off her shoulders. His eyes lingered on her throat and collar. "Um, I-Ichigo-kun?" Orihime murmured uncertainly. Suddenly, she wanted to keep the jacket. The way he looked at her made her feel like she was naked.
He lifted his eyes to her face and smiled. Orihime blinked. Was it hunger and desperation she saw in his eyes? That was not a normal smile; it was feral, predatory, reminding her of a skulking beast ready to pounce.
"Shall we?" he asked, offering his elbow.
"I…" She swallowed, dropped her eyes and nodded.
notes.
um… /fidgets. this is very late, i will spare you all the story of why but thank you for still reading me! anyways,
this is the most difficult chapter ever! my brain writhed and melted – metaphorically! ahaha – from the stress, and then i conquered my obsession with using present tense and viola! it certainly made life easier! 8D i hope it is ok tho!
thank you very much for all your reviews; i enjoyed reading them and they are all precious to me, thank you for spending your time on my (obsessive fangirling) work!