Hello again! Apologies for long waits and delayed responses to reviews (If you're a guest reviewer, I obviously can't respond to you, but take this as my thank you!). Been on the work / spontaneous vacation to internet-less beaches / Vans Warped Tour train for a little bit and have had zero free time to write. I keep promising to do better, but, well…I'm human. Forgive me. I am trying to get these updates out as soon as I possibly can.

This update won't be nearly as long as the last (that was a monster of an update), but I hope it is just as well received as the previous chapters have been :) everyone seems to like this story, and I am beyond thrilled by that! Thanks to all who have stuck with it thus far, leaving me reviews to keep me motivated, and I hope it continues to please you, the readers!

Tiny side note: Y'ALL. BLEACH IS STARTING THE LAST ARC IN THE MANGA. Bittersweet, really. I want to see how it all ends, but I feel a lot of deaths coming on, and I'm worried that my heart won't be able to take it. Both nervous and excited (though there is a five week hiatus for Kubo to gear up for the beginning of the end, so I have to wait until August 21 to even start this last arc!).

Also, as previously mentioned, I attended Vans Warped Tour on its Charlotte, North Carolina stop, and GUYS I MET TWO MEMBERS OF CROSSFAITH. Banking on the fact that you don't know that band name, so let me explain. Crossfaith is a metal/hardcore band I follow, a quintet from Osaka, Japan who were apart of this year's Warped Tour. (On a serious note, if you don't like metal, I don't suggest listening to them. They go hard.) I'm a huge fan, and I got to meet the drummer, Tatsu, and the DJ, Teru. Talked to them very briefly (their English was actually not terrible, though they had really thick accents, which was adorable). I was literally shaking haha, but I got pictures, so it was totally worth it! Woot! Plus, when I was buying a shirt at their booth later, they had a box marked for the Japan Tsunami/Earthquake Recovery Fund, which I donated to. It was strange to see that in person, with this story on my mind. It verifies that the event is still a very big influence on their daily life and still needs help with the recovery effort.

Anyways, this is the back to the present time, so flashbacks are over (for now? May need them later). Moving right along in the story and gearing up for a reunion (if that is a spoiler to you, I hope it didn't come as too much of a shock haha after all, there will be a love story amongst the drama I've put these two it).

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own only plot and an OCs that are involved in this AU world I have created. I only borrow the characters for creative purposes.

Chapter 4

It wasn't until two weeks after Ichigo had been moved into his apartment that preparations were made. Paper work needed to be filled out, medical forms sent off to Architects for Humanity to assure Ichigo was a strapping young man with the ability to help in construction if need be, and all that was left to be done was confirming living arrangements and checking plane tickets. The orange-haired man was excited for the opportunity, but it hadn't quite sunken in just what he was about to do.

Isshin, the worrisome father he is, had constantly asked if his son was sure. Through every step of the process the question was voiced, and every time Ichigo answered with "I'm positive". While he appreciated his father's concerns, he had never been more sure of a decision in his life. Though it still felt unreal, he was ready to begin the new experience.

The night before his plane was set to take off for Sendai, Ichigo found himself checking his luggage once more. The checklist Yuzu had made sat on the desk, each item crossed out hastily as it was placed in the large suitcase he planned on taking. He was going to stay for a full year, so most things would be bought upon arriving, but things like clothes and toiletries were still to in need of being packed. All of his needed paperwork for traveling was secured into one folder, ready to go for tomorrow. Now if he could just decide on the clothes to take he'd be all set.

He had never packed for a yearlong trip, or at least not one this far away, and Ichigo found himself wondering how much would be enough for him to survive. There would be the ability to buy more clothes if he needed, but he hated going on this trip and feeling like he was unprepared. The anxiety to pack everything he'd need resulted in a headache and clothes spread everywhere in the room, piles of "taking" and "not taking" covering every available surface. He felt overwhelmed by the mountains of clothes, but it still couldn't squash his excitement to return to Sendai.

He was going to get to go back and get another chance to help. He could make up for the last time he was there.

No. The word rang loudly in his ears, so loud that he actually paused in his packing. He closed his eyes as he forced his thoughts to calm. I can't think like that. Ichigo let a heavy breath out through his nose, coming to sit on the edge of his bed amongst the clothes that littered the blanket.

He hasn't thought like that since the early months after the disaster. When he and that older man who had drug him out of the water were rescued, he should have felt relief. Instead, he had been completely thrown into his grief. Those first months home had been an entirely new nightmare, struggling with the guilt he felt for what had happened that day. It was normal to mourn. How could you not when the death counts where plastered on every news station, the lists of the missing posted on every street corner? It was okay to feel sorrow and pain from what was lost. What was not okay was for him to blame himself for not being listed in those numbers, in those who were never recovered.

For a while, he had found himself permanently fixed in front of those names and numbers. The missing especially called to him. He'd search the names every day without fail, watching as some were found alive and others just simply found. His eyes would peer at every letter, every character written, looking for something, anything that stood out. He never knew the man's name. Not once while they tried to get to the bridge had it been spoken, but he still searched, hoping something would grab him in the gut and he would just know. He didn't know if he was alive or dead, thought he felt instinctively that it was the latter. Had he been found? Did his family know that Ichigo had done his best to save him? Did they blame him like he had blamed himself?

Therapy was eventually sought out, more on the part of his family than himself. In all honesty, Ichigo never would have admitted something was wrong. The orange-haired boy had fully accepted his feelings, feeling it to be some type of justice, a punishment he deserved. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the moments where he slipped back into his mind where the waters waited to claim him once more…all of it was his to bear alone. But Isshin was disturbed by his son's actions, and could sit by no longer. Ichigo would always be grateful for his father's intervention, though at the time it felt like he had been betrayed. But his way of thinking was wrong. He had to come to grips with it, accept it, and find a way to move back on.

Ichigo didn't realize his grip on the shirt in his hands had tightened until he forced himself to relax. He was better. He didn't need to think like that anymore. What had happened was a natural phenomenon, something out of his control, and he can't save everyone. He had tried, and it had gone wrong, but that did not mean he had to suffer guilt for it.

With a small nod to himself he stood, resuming his packing. He needed to reenter Sendai with a clear head and conscious, ready to rebuild the areas that still desperately needed help. He couldn't think about where he had fallen short. He needed to focus on what he could do to help now, in the present.

X

"How's it going?"

The buxom girl turned quickly, meeting the gaze of one of her coworker, Hina. The woman was watching her with an amused smile, as if already knowing the answer to her question. Orihime had been watching the clock dutifully for the last thirty minutes, watching as the minute hand neared the six. She was not required to stay past five thirty, and she was getting anxious of the time.

Orihime had the mind to look sheepish as she rubbed the back of her neck. "Not as fast as I'd like," the girl admitted with a laugh, turning back to the display in front of her.

The new art had been shipped in that morning, and they were having one hell of a time setting everything up. The artist that the Mediatheque was supporting for the next six months had been very specific in how each piece was to be hung. They were separate works that worked together as a very elaborate, interlacing piece, and even the slightest change would throw the entire thing off. In her hand was a list of specific instructions for the gallery to go by, and already Orihime had had trouble with it. The artist had every right to be particular, but it was still giving Orihime a headache.

"This stuff won't hang itself," she continued, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She had broken into a sweat trying to hang the pieces in their correct spaces. Even with the help of some assistants, it was a lot of hard work.

"Yes, but you are nearly done for the day," Hina laughed, shaking her head. Her eyes crinkled underneath the fringe of her bangs, and Orihime found the expression to encourage her own smile. "You work too hard. You're not an intern, anymore, so give yourself a break. I can finish this up here."

"I can't do that to you," Orihime insisted, shaking her head. "It's a lot of work."

"But it is almost completely set up," Hina pointed out, gesturing to the display. It was almost finished. The orange-haired girl knew that. She also knew the clock was ticking away, and she was going to be late for weekly dinner with Tatsuki.

Orihime opened her mouth to politely refuse the offer, but the older woman would have none of it. "Oh, go on! I've got you covered," she said as she playfully shooed the girl away. Her coworker was just as stubborn, and knew how the girl loved to keep to a schedule. With a sigh of defeat, Orihime nodded.

"Thanks Hina," she said with a bright smile, handing over the instructions. With light footsteps, she started towards her office to gather her belongings. It was relatively quiet on the floor, the gallery being closed to allow the art to be hung without the curious eyes of visitors and the possibility of things going missing or getting damaged. It let her work peacefully, and allowed for much more comfortable clothing to move the heavy pieces. She had donned a simple white tee shirt and jean shorts to move the pieces around, her hair bobbing happily in a high ponytail as her sneakers squeaked against the tile floor.

The gallery could finish without her. There would be people there until eight, and as Hina had mentioned, all that was needed was the final details. Two more pieces hung and a run through the list and everything would be set to open tomorrow morning. And it allowed the girl to remain on schedule.

She would get off of work at five thirty, and be back at the apartments by six. She'd drop off her work stuff at the door, meet Tatsuki at her place on the same floor of the complex, and they would go together to the ramen shop down the street, a favorite of theirs. After dinner, she would return to her place for some television and then have her tea before going to bed. It was a tradition. It was a ritual.

Maybe if she was feeling exceptionally wild and carefree, she'd sit in front of her unfilled applications for an hour or so, willing herself to write the answers to the questions they asked. That was always a change of pace.

Orihime rolled her eyes at the sarcastic thought. Yes, Tatsuki would definitely tease her tonight for her procrastination. She had promised her friend that she would start those last week, and she had failed to get even one started. The black-haired girl would give her grief for not doing the task, but she would let it go eventually. She was a good friend. She knew how Orihime felt, and even if she teased her for her shortcomings, she would always be a support system for her to turn to.

The orange-haired girl let that thought ease her worries, and she quickly gathered her things. The faster she got her stuff, the sooner she could set out to meet Tatsuki.

X

It didn't sink in right away that Ichigo was actually there.

He had gone through the motions since last night after he had finished packing, a feat within itself. Running on barely five hours of sleep, he had gone to the airport with his family in tow. He had sat in the back, wedged between his sisters upon their request, and reassured them that yes, he would be fine. He had exchanged a few meaningful looks in the rearview mirror with his father, but when they had arrived at the airport, a pat on the shoulder was all the encouragement Ichigo needed. Isshin was worried, of course, but he was proud of him and would support him in this.

He had said his goodbyes, repeating the promise to call at least once a week, and gave one last hug to each of his family members, trying to memorize the embrace as best as he could for when he got homesick.

The plane ride was uneventful. It had no connecting flight. There was no turbulence. There had been an annoying woman in the seat next to him that kept calling the flight attendant over for obscene questions like "If the plane catches fire, what are we supposed to do?" and "How many life vests are there, exactly, in case of an emergency?" First time fliers were always jumpy, but this lady was ridiculous. But even that had not dampened his mood.

The airport had been just the way that he remembered it from those years ago. A massive glass widow that covered two stories of the building was still there, showing him the runways and the planes waiting to take off. There were tons of people milling around, some looking for family and friends, others waiting for flights, and others still just sitting there watching as each plane took off from the ground. Ichigo had gone right past them, walking to the exit to find a taxi that could take him to his apartment.

It wasn't until he really looked, confined in the small backseat of the cab that picked him up and spitting out the memorized address to his new home, that he truly understood that he was officially back. He could remember some of the landmarks, some of the major names of buildings and tourist attractions. He remembered passing through some of these streets years ago. The faces have changed, some buildings had been renovated, and it still held an air of unfamiliarity, but he remembered this place.

And everywhere he looked, he saw the signs. Slight water damage on the sides of buildings, reaching nearly ten feet off the ground. Vacant lots that once housed buildings were now abandoned, or more often than not collecting trash and debris. Some homemade signs on poster board or construction paper made for the victims and their families, some boasting donations and fundraisers while others still looked for those missing. Though the city was as popular as ever, running like usual, the side effects were clear.

As he took in the sights, seeing the things that had stayed the same and the things that had changed from the Earthquake and Tsunami, Ichigo knew he had made the right choice in coming here. This was where he was needed.

When he arrived to the apartment complex that would serve as his new home, he was already determined to make the best of this trip. It was a pretty normal place, exposed balconies leading to each door, the building rising three stories from the ground. His room was the first door on the second floor, directly off the stairs.

Tomorrow morning he would have a meeting with the Architects for Humanity group here in Sendai to find out where he will be assigned and what type of work he will be doing for the first of many projects. Today, however, they have allowed for him to settle in and rest. Travel was always tiresome, so he appreciated the down time.

But that down time turned into busy work. His apartment was nice, for sure, plus it was fully furnished, but he wasn't going to live out of his suitcase for the entire year. Clothes had to unpacked and put away. Furniture had to be arranged to his liking. Electronics needed to be plugged up. The thermostat had to be changed immediately; he wasn't about to endure the 80 degree heat that had greeted him when he opened the door and stepped inside.

By a quarter 'til six everything was set up to his liking. Ichigo hummed in approval as he straightened up to his full height, pushing the suitcase further under his freshly made bed with his foot. He didn't require much, and though the walls were still empty he was already feeling more comfortable in the apartment. A few pictures or posters on the white surfaces would be all he needed, but that could wait. He looked around the rooms, nodding his head in satisfaction as he moved from his bedroom, the bathroom, the living area joining the kitchen. Everything was in order, or at least close enough to not bother the orange-haired man.

His stomach growled, a reminder that he had not eaten since the quick lunch at the airport, and he trudged across the wooden floor to his refrigerator, bear feet thudding against the dark wood. He pulled back on the handle and ducked down to search the fridge, only to let out a groan of disappointment. The fridge was empty. He had forgotten he'd need to stock it.

He allowed a hand to run over his features, chuckling at his moment of stupidity. At least no one was here to see that. Food should have been the first thing on his list of things to buy, and he was sure if he had kept that list Yuzu had given him, he would see it bolded and at the top of the page.

At the thought of his sister, his head snapped up. He quickly padded back to his bedroom, pulling open his backpack that had served as a carry on for the flight, now sat in a chair against the wall. Nestled within the compartments was a last minute gift from his blonde sister, and as his fingers curled around it his face broke into a wide grin. The cookbook was small, but chock full of recipes that happened to be simple meals. Simple was right up his alley. He wasn't useless in the kitchen, but he wasn't exactly a professional either.

He flipped through the pages as he walked back to the kitchen, biting the inside of his cheek as he looked through the thoughtful present. Finding a pen and paper he had haphazardly stuffed into a drawer earlier, he scribbled a few ingredients down for some of the quicker recipes. He could stock up fully later, but right now he was happy to just have the essentials for a decent meal.

Glancing at the clock on the microwave, he noted the time. Five fifty-seven. That was plenty of time to get to the store and back before it got too dark. He had seen a grocery store on the way to the complex, and it wouldn't be far to walk.

He grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys from the counter and headed towards the door. He slipped his shoes that had been lying forgotten against the wall, turning the doorknob and pulling it open before stepping out of his apartment. He hastily stuffed his wallet into his back pocket with one hand as he pulled the door closed and began the task of locking up. He chuckled to himself as he inserted the key. His father would really come down to Sendai and drag his ass back home if he let his apartment get broken into within the first twenty-four hours of his stay.

Ichigo hadn't heard anyone coming up the stairs as he went about his duties, but he heard the sharp intake of breath when they reached the landing to his floor. Inwardly, he groaned. His hair had always caused some looks, and he jumped to the conclusion that this person that had stumbled upon his was already judging what he had been given naturally. Ichigo had already heard some of the mumbles on the plane and in the airport, and he was sure it would just continue from here on out. He furrowed his brow and kept his eyes on the door, pretending to be so engrossed in locking up that he hadn't noticed the stranger's reaction.

But then the person spoke. Not only did she speak, but it was his name that was said in that soft voice full of disbelief.

"Ichigo?"

His gaze lifted, face drawn in confusion and surprise as he turned to meet the person that had called him by name. He hadn't been prepared for what he found.

She was wearing more casual clothing than he remembered, thought the tee shirt and shorts looked much more comfortable. Her bright orange hair that was so similar in color to his was thrown up in a ponytail, falling in some places to frame her feminine features. She clutched her bag in front of her, keys in hand that mirrored the set he had, indication she lived in the same complex, maybe even the same floor. Her eyes were just as expressive as they had been as in his nightmares after his rescue, watching him from the bridge as he sunk beneath the water. She stared at him in shock, her face blanching in surprise as she paused on the landing, coming to a stop a mere three feet away.

Holy shit.

Ichigo felt his breath come back with force. As he exhaled a name slipped out, one that he had kept pushed from his mind for years but never truly forgot.

"Orihime."

This one is a much shorter, but I really wanted to stop here before I dove into the next update (Oh, I hope that one is up sooner. My guilt for keeping you guys waiting is killing me :/). Hope you all enjoyed it, regardless. Thanks again for all the reviews so far!

Much love,

Meg