Forgiveness

Clogs clicked noisily against the paved sidewalk, drawing attention from passers-by who peered over their shoulders at the odd man. The man, eyes shadowed by the brim of his hat, hid his smile with a fan as he passed under lamplight. It was fun for him, walking amongst humans in his flashy pinstripes and old fashioned dress, his fan waving needlessly in the cool night air as he moved purposefully down the walk.

Seeing a familiar apartment complex, he stopped and looked up, his fan moving away as he watched patiently. He counted down in his head; 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…and a light clicked off in a second story apartment. Moving one clogged foot forward, he took a step and touched down right outside the window he had been watching. Producing his cane, he tapped the window once, which immediately unlocked with a click, slid it open, and deposited himself into the room.

Carefully adjusting his hat, he looked around the small bedroom in which he stood. It was most obviously a girl's bedroom, filled with bright colors that were paled by the streaming moonlight, and only the far corners of the room cast a shadow.

As he turned to face the small bed, a voice spoke out to him.

"Good evening, Urahara-san."

There was no surprise in the voice; instead it was innocent and warm, with a familiarity held in reverence to him as well as a certain level of understanding.

Bowing deeply to the occupant in the bed, Urahara rose with a smile and replied, "Wonderful to see you again, Inoue-san."

He stood for a moment, watching her face, her smile, her eyes that held the weariness of a long day, the tightness around her mouth that hadn't been there before she was taken.

Orihime released a long sigh, longer than it should have been, and that was his fault too. He was an observant man, but never quite careful enough, never quite right about anything.

Inoue Orihime was someone he had been far too wrong about.

She was giving him that look again, almost pitying, and he knew she was going to speak.

"Urahara-san, you really don't-"

His fan was brought forth with lightning speed and he shook it, as if reprimanding, at her from the foot of the bed.

"Ah, but Inoue-san, I do have to."

Orihime sighed again and shook her head, but smiled. There was no use in arguing, and his presence would help chase away the loneliness in her heart. As she settled back into bed, Urahara moved around the room, tapping random places on the walls with his cane, leaving the room to examine the rest of the apartment before coming back in. Orihime watched him sleepily, only half conscious, but thinking it would be rude to fall asleep while he was there.

"It seems your protection is holding up just fine," he told her finally and received a small nod in return.

"I'm not afraid, Urahara-san. I trust you." she told him, before she broke out in a large yawn and turned on her side, her face to the moon and her back to the shadows.

Urahara's mouth was suddenly dry and his shoulders tightened as he stood there, silently watching the girl fight sleep for his sake.

"Go to sleep, Orihime," he told her softly, his voice both gentle and commanding.

Pressing her face into her pillow, Orihime's eyes began to close. Sleep was winning over, but not before she whispered three final words.

"I forgive you."

Urahara remained in place until her breathing was even and deep, his eyes never straying from the sleeping girl, his lips forming a slight frown. He couldn't help but release a weary sigh, his hand moving up to scratch his chin, his whiskers tickling his fingers as he did so.

"You are too forgiving, Inoue-san," he whispered to her sleeping form before moving towards the window, walking carefully this time so as not to wake her.

He swung his form out the window and then shut it behind him, remembering to tap it locked with his cane before appearing on the sidewalk again. His walks back to the shop were always more somber in mood. He didn't feel that disconnected from the humans then; surely they could not make such mistakes as he had.

Orihime always said she forgave him. Every night she made sure he knew. And every night he offered her company and protection, because it was the only way he knew to make it up to her.

The problem was that even though she had forgiven him, he didn't know how he could forgive himself. If she frequently had nightmares, if she was constantly looking over her shoulder, if the color white made her nervous, it was because of him. It was his fault.

She had forgiven him, and he believed this.

He could not forgive himself tonight, but maybe tomorrow night…maybe tomorrow night he would hear her words, and finally, finally be able to.

Maybe tomorrow night.

A/N: Wow its been awhile! Dont ask me how this idea came to me, it was very random, but I like it.

Thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu Chu for beta'ing for me!!!

Hope I have more good ideas soon...

--Miss Soupy