Date written: 27/10/09 – 01 /11/09

Posted on FanFiction: 03/11/09

A/N: It feels like this whole chapter is dialogue-driven. Well, it's an introductory chapter more or less, and it's good filler for the cliffhanger I wanted to put in. (I feel bad about the filler part, though) I'm making this one straightforward because it's time to speed things up, although the characterization of the fairies is still a priority on my part. Personally, I don't think that this is my best writing. It feels choppy and more of dialogue than prose. It's either that or my mind is too preoccupied on a Naruto plot bunny hopping all over in my muse's room. God, the concept just won't rest!

Anyway, let me make this quite clear right here, right now. You will notice some differences from the canon Shun Shun Rika and my version of the Shun Shun Rika. I didn't want them to be the same because I wanted them to have a different origin in mind. Sdarian told me something about the fairies in a different perspective and I haven't thought of it that way. Sdarian says, I quote, "While her developing the powers to begin with is one thing, I really feel that spiritual power like theirs would fall into "path of least resistance" type of things. The normal shinigami don't have powers like hers or Chad's because they are learning shinigami arts, so all build up of reiatsu would be channeled into that." An insightful observance but I personally feel that Orihime having the Shun Shun Rika should have a proper basis rather than being a latent reiatsu channel device that can do the utterly impossible: Bend reality. This gives her powers that are on match to those of a god of 'banishment,' so to speak, and though Tite Kubo might have his own reasons for giving Orihime this amazing but still latent gift in the series, I suspect that there is a deeper origin to it. That's my own opinion, which I have implemented into the storyline long ago. I was just tossing and turning the idea around at first because I was a little . . . apprehensive that I was turning Orihime into an über-character, but I was able to turn it into a good plot device for the sequel. At least I think it's good. And their role in the story will expand in Interlude III.

--- CHAPTER 18 ---

Princess and Dragon: Interlude II

"Come on," she called as they climbed up the hill.

"I'm coming on my own pace," he replied, a little less enthusiastic than his companion. When he caught up with her, he said, "And please be careful. You're in no condition to overwork yourself. You might hurt the little one."

The woman patted her swelling belly, and said, "My kid's a tough one. I'm sure he or she will be fine."

And they call me the irresponsible one in the relationship, he thought, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure it's a 'she,' though."

"How would you know? I didn't get an ultrasound yet."

"Just a gut feeling I have."

"You go with your gut feelings all the time, dear." She hit his arm playfully, then looked back at the top of the hill. "We're almost there."

Getting to the top of this particular hill wouldn't be much of an enduring task if you had the sun for illumination and the dirt path pointing you to its general direction. The way they found the hill and climbed it had none of those, so the man thought that the both of them should at least have some credit for finding the illusive thing in the middle of the night. And what he meant by illusive, he meant that the hill was situated in a clearing of a vast forest. The only reason they wouldn't completely get lost was that he knew the layout of the forest like it was the palm of his hand, but that was only during daytime. Nighttime showed a different side of the same view, and it took twice as long for them to get to the hill.

Before his wife thought of going to their favorite spot on this hill, they were enjoying themselves in the Tanabata festival near it. She said she wanted to talk to him about something private, so they went there, even if he seemed hesitant to go to their spot in the middle of the night.

He saw his wife sitting down on the base of the tree. "You're gonna get your yukata dirty."

"I don't mind. My stamina isn't up to par while I'm like this." She looked at her stomach. "You're more trouble than you're worth, you know that?"

He already knew she was only teasing, so he decided to have some fun as well. "Not yet even born and the kid's already ignited your short fuse. We might have a problem child on our hands."

"You don't want to raise our child anymore?" She raised her eyebrow at him while showing a lopsided smile.

He didn't take the bait. "What, are you kidding? Having a problem child will make parenting more fun?"

"And more stressful, and more annoying, and more troubles in our hands, and more visits to the principal's office than the average, and more—"

"That's not a problem child. That's a delinquent."

They bantered for a few more minutes before deciding to stay silent and watch the stars. The heavenly bodies were bright and distinct. Not long after their silence, the man wrapped her left hand into his right. They smiled at each other, squeezing their held hands tighter. Most couples communicate with words and gestures, but these two were content with eye contact and subtle lip movements. It was unorthodox to some, as a nonverbal communication, but its effectiveness was all that mattered. And it had always done wonders; it also made them feel much closer to each other. If there was a level of love much higher than 'lovers,' then they might have already ascended to it.

"What are you thinking?" the woman asked, gazing on one of the many constellations of the Milky Way.

"Nothing important," he answered. "Mostly life, in general."

"Like?"

"A name for the baby, for one. We still haven't decided on it."

"We don't even know if it's a boy or a girl, yet."

"How about a unisex name?"

"Nah, that makes me feel lazy. I want our child's name to be special . . . almost like how special this day and this place are."

He understood what she was talking about. Today was not only Tanabata for them. It was also the day they first met. This favorite spot of theirs was even the place where he had asked for her hand in marriage, which was also on Tanabata, one exact year after their meeting. He wanted to comment on it, but decided not to. Just the nostalgia was enough to perfect his remembrance of this very special day and place. Words weren't always needed, he supposed.

"All right, I've decided on the baby's name," she announced.

"Don't I get a say in this?" he asked. When she struggled to stand back up, he helped her out. He watched as she walked across the hill. Cold wind traveled towards their right, and he had the chance to marvel his wife's long dirty blonde locks swept by the gust. He suddenly had the urge to make love to her, but pushed it down. There would be plenty of that after she gave birth, which was less than two months away.

"Remember that bet we had earlier?"

"Yeah." It was an embarrassing event, but he remembered her winning it.

"Winner gets to order anything she wants to the loser, was the criteria, right?"

"Yeah." He didn't like where this was going.

"I'm cashing it in. I order you to let me name our kid."

"Hey! That's not fair."

She gave him 'The Look.'

"But—"

'The Look' got fiercer.

"I—"

Much fiercer.

" . . . yes, dear," he whispered dejectedly. He always lost when it came to being given 'The Look.' It was a secret weapon she rarely used, but the disaster it brought upon him spoke volumes of its success.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll love it."

"Oh really?"

"But just to be fair with you, seeing that you're rooting so much for it to be a girl, I'll decide on the name for a boy. You'll name it if it's a girl."

The man cocked an eyebrow. "That . . . seems reasonable. This isn't a dream, is it?"

"You talk as if I'm always unfair to you."

The man didn't reply.

"Hey!"

"No comment," he deadpanned.

"Jerk," she muttered.

"So, the name?"

"I've been thinking a lot about it. We met during the summer, right?"

The man nodded. "This very same day, three years ago."

"I didn't think that we'd end up together at all back then."

"Any regrets?"

She shook her head. "None. And that's why I want our child to be the symbol of how our fates have been tied together. Natsuhiko (tr. Summer boy). The summer of our meeting."

"I like it," he said after a moment's pause.

She smiled. "Any ideas for a girl's name?" she asked.

The man thought it over while looking at the distant stars. Naming a child was difficult, and he had been juggling around with many different names during the past few weeks. Most of them were girl names because that was he was hoping the child was. But in the happy side of things, there was always a dark and ulterior side. During those moments where he wished that their child would be a girl, he felt like he was trying to replace the family he once had all those years ago—a loving wife and a dazzling daughter—the same family he had lost and never met again because of something he could not control. But one look at the stars and he knew that things would be different. Tragedy would not strike him and his new family this time. He swore on it.

The woman called his name in concern, and he quickly assured her that he was just pondering over a name.

"You shouldn't force yourself," she said. "The name will come to you in time."

But she was wrong. He already thought of a name. One that would also remind them of their fated meeting. "Actually, I already thought of one."

She waited for him to continue.

"I have this great suspicion that you derived your choice of a name from Hikoboshi."

The woman shrugged, though the wry lopsided smile was clearly on her lips. It made her look undoubtedly cute, too.

"So how about we give a similar name to a girl? Our own little princess."

The woman giggled, catching on to what name he was thinking. "I like it. It's really fitting, wouldn't you say?"

"She'll be pampered like an actual princess."

"Not while I'm around, though. Spoiling a child is a grandparent's role, not ours, you know."

"I know. But still, you can't stop me from giving her what she wants."

She rolled her eyes. "Right," she drawled.

He laughed and then hugged her. His hand reached for the swelling belly of his wife, and he rubbed it with gentle strokes. "The symbol of our love. Natsuhiko for a boy and—"

"Orihime-sama?"

"—Orihime for a girl."

"Orihime-sama, snap out of it!"

"Heh?" Orihime looked around, a little dazed. She shook her head to cast out the lingering drowsiness, but what she had seen stayed. Was it a vision, a glimpse of the past? The faces of the two people were too blurry for her to discern their features, except for the woman—was that my mother?—whom she knew had long, dirty blonde hair.

"Orihime-sama!"

The pixie was floating right next to her face, waving her arms exaggeratedly as if signaling someone from far away. Her slit eyes were gazing at her with concern, though Orihime was bewildered on how she knew this. When the pixie had gotten her attention, she motioned for the others to come closer.

Orihime took a deep breath, her heart beating in a presto tempo. "Who are you?"

One of the remaining pixies, the one that was wearing mostly black, scoffed. He had his arms folded together in front of his chest; his scowl looked to be a permanent form on his face. The crimson scarf wrapped around his neck and jaw covered the lower half of his face and clavicle. His raven hair sported a spiky flattop style, which kind of reminded her of a fictional character in an old fighting game using the Chinese martial arts Bajiquan.

"Don't speak as if we're some strange specimen, woman," he said. "It pisses the hell out of me."

"Tsubaki! There's no need to be condescending to her," the fox-faced pixie said. "She doesn't even know about us."

"Hmph. And what do you expect me—or the rest of us—to do? Hold her hand while you guide her in using our powers?"

"Tsubaki . . ."

"This woman"—he spat the word venomously, while pointing an accusing finger at Orihime—"is unfit to use us. Even if she called on us, there is no way that I will kneel to her as if she were my queen."

The first pixie sighed. She glanced at the others, but they were stoic and unresponsive. They didn't want to be caught in the middle of the two's quarrel, from what Orihime could observe, and why did she have the nagging feeling that their arguments happened more often than she could guess?

"But we still have to obey her," foxy pixie replied. "We were created to protect her."

"No," he rebuffed. "We were created to protect someone else. Not her. Never her."

"But Orihime-sama is still—"

"I will not acknowledge her as my master until she grows a freakin' backbone!"

"Excuse me, you two younguns," one of the older pixies, a purple jumpsuit-wearing individual with a monocle, interrupted. His accent was a little hard to understand, but Orihime had met a foreigner who speaks Japanese just like him. The older pixie had a deep British accent. "I don't mean to interrupt a lover's quarrel, but . . ." He pointed at the hovering Hollow. ". . . we must fulfill our duty."

Tsubaki growled at the Hollow. "Typical piece of Hollow crap, huh. Yet princess over there needs our help killing it. Pathetic."

Orihime's felt like she had been stabbed by that remark.

"The rest of you can do whatever the hell you want, but I'm—"

"Helping Orihime-sama alongside us," foxy pixie interrupted, the laid-back tone of her voice replaced with the seriousness of a very strict teacher in detention mode. "End of discussion."

"Hah! Fat chance. With her as my focus point, I'd be lucky to be in one piece when she shoots."

"Then the world will be a lot better with one less Tsubaki around."

"Bitch," he muttered, though Orihime and possibly the other pixies still heard him.

"If you don't help, then you're breaking Sora-sama's promise."

"Sora?" Orihime repeated in a very hushed tone that it seemed like she only mouthed the name. Her eyes were wide and her breath was caught in her throat. Do they know anything about Onii-chan? But . . . what promise are they talking about?

The foxy pixie's statement, however, had a similar effect on Tsubaki. Instead of making a witty reply—which Orihime had thought he'd do—he dropped his arms from their folded position and glared heatedly at his companion. He then looked towards Orihime with that same glare. Orihime wanted to get as far away from him as possible, even though she easily towered him tenfold.

"All right," the black pixie said to her. "I'll let you use me just this once"—he cast a meaningful glance at the foxy pixie—"if only to fulfill the wishes of our creator."

"Orihime-sama is partially our creator as well, Tsubaki."

"Don't make me take back my help." That seemed to be the end of the discussion because he floated away to brood alone.

"Don't mind him, Orihime-sama. It takes a while for anyone to get close to him."

Orihime nodded dumbly, unsure how to proceed in this little predicament.

"Well, I guess some introductions are in order. My name is Shun'uo, by the way, and I'm more or less the pseudo-leader of the group. We're known as Shun Shun Rikka (tr. Six Flowers of the Hibiscus Shield)."

"So lead us to death, Captain Bitch!" Tsubaki taunted.

Shun'uo's slit eye began to twitch. "Again, ignore Tsubaki."

Shun'uo gestured for the others to come closer. Another pixie, a female wearing a pink long-sleeved kimono, floated beside Shun'uo. She also had a hovering red overcoat with yellow square markings covering her like an umbrella. In the exterior, the pixie looked almost indifferent to everything, but the blush in her cheeks contradicted that observance. If Orihime was right, then this girl was trying to be strong and assertive even though inside she was afraid and timid.

"This is my partner, Ayame," Shun'uo said, prompting Ayame to take a deep bow of respect. "She rarely speaks."

"Nice to meet you," Orihime greeted.

Ayame's face flushed beet red. She nodded, acknowledging Orihime's greeting, and looked away. Orihime's observance was right on the mark, it seemed.

"The bald English guy"—Shun'uo motioned her hand at the jumpsuit wearing pixie with the monocle—"is named Hinagiku. The big guy is named Baigon, and the one in the skimpy blue one-piece is Lily."

Lily yelped. "It's not skimpy!"

Shun'uo ignored her, and continued, "And we're more or less your guardian angels."

"Shun'uo-san," Hinagiku said, "we don't have much time left."

"Oh! Right." She nodded at him, then turned back to Orihime. "Listen, Orihime-sama, you need to use us in order to survive."

For the first time since these pixies appeared into thin air, Orihime checked her surroundings. From the powerful rush of wind she had felt earlier, she had expected that some might have been swept away (though she felt it was just wishful thinking), but nothing could prepare her from the sight she saw. The Hollow from above was not out of the ordinary, but she had failed to notice the predicament her schoolmates were in. It looked like she was staring at a still life portrait because it was just impossible to comprehend. Her classmates were being swept away by the wind but seemed to be only half-finished.

Everything was in a pause, as if time had literally stopped for everyone except her and the pixies.

"Surprised?" Shun'uo asked, sensing Orihime's shocked expression. "Don't be. Each of us has a very unique trait that can only be accessed within special conditions. In this case, Baigon can delay time to a certain limit, at least only enough to recuperate and strategize the next move."

"Too late," Tsubaki said, gazing at the Hollow. The flow of the wind reached Orihime's ears. The Hollow moved. The students continued getting thrown by the wind, and fall unceremoniously to the hard cemented ground. "It has already started."

Along with time, as well.

"Incredible," the Hollow uttered. "This reiatsu is too potent for a normal human to have. Just . . . what are you?"

"Get ready," Tsubaki said to Orihime. "The Hollow's about to attack."

"Hmm . . ." the Hollow looked pondering for a moment, then said, "Master seems to have taken an interest in you, little girl. Too bad you'll be nothing more than a mindless drone after I'm done with you."

"Call our names, Orihime-sama, and say the incantation," Hinagiku said, hovering in front of Orihime.

"Repeat after me," Shun'uo said to her. " 'Hinagiku, Baigon, Lily. Santen Kesshun (tr. Three Sacred Links Shield), I reject!'"

Orihime breathed in, then out. The Hollow shot three giant seeds at her. Orihime clenched her fists, concentrated on the feel of her reishi, then said, "Hinagiku, Baigon, Lily. Santen Kesshun, I reject!"

She felt a drain in her spiritual reserves when the three pixies formed a big inverted triangle, which shielded her from the Hollow's long ranged attack.

"What?!" the Hollow exclaimed. "Impossible."

"Their power is to reject things outside the shield," Shun'uo informed. "In other words, they are your absolute defense against enemies. Our power, however,"—she motioned to herself and Ayame—"is to reject things inside the shield. Our power grants us the ability to negate the effects of an object inside the shield by rejecting its causes."

"Negate the effects? Reject its causes? Eh?"

"In layman's terms, we bring back things within the shield to a state where the damages are nonexistent.

"Let's use it on Tatsuki-sama right away."

Not exactly understanding how their powers worked, Orihime nodded anyway.

"Repeat after me: 'Shun'uo, Ayame. Souten Kisshun (tr. Twin Sacred Return Shield), I reject!'"

Orihime repeated the incantation. Shun'uo and Ayame hovered over Tatsuki's prone form and created an elliptical shield which created a sort of dome trapping Tatsuki inside. Before Orihime realized it, Tatsuki's wounds were beginning to heal.

"Tatsuki-chan," she whispered. She was quite close to crying tears of joy and relief.

"Don't think it's over, woman," Tsubaki said. "The triplets are impenetrable, the twins are natural healers, but how will you fare with me? Listen, woman, I'm only giving you this one chance to prove to me that you have the right to use me in battle. If you fail, then don't bother calling for me again.

"My power is rejecting both sides of the shield. I put up a shield inside the enemy and reject their physical bonds. In other words, I cut all of our enemies in half.

"All right! Let's get this party started. Repeat after me: 'Tsubaki. Koten Zanshun (tr. Solitary Sacred Cutting Shield), I reject.'"

Orihime repeated it. When the last syllable of her chant came to Tsubaki's ears, he shot out like a bullet straight towards the Hollow. The black pixie pierced into the Hollow's armor, and within a second a flash of light marked the Hollow symmetrically. When Tsubaki came out of the octopus Hollow's back, it was already severed in half.

"M—Mas—" the Hollow choked before disintegrating completely.

"I did it." Orihime's muscles relaxed. "I did it," she repeated, trying to grasp the reality that she had made her first Hollow kill without turning into her shinigami form. Shun'uo and Ayame returned to her side, along with Tsubaki, who was still looking pissed at something but the heated glare he kept shooting her way disappeared. In its wake was approval in his eyes. And Orihime could only guess if Tsubaki was smiling behind that scarf of his.

She looked at each one of the pixies. "Thank you, everyone."

They all smiled except Tsubaki, who looked away like a snob, and morphed back into the twin hairpins.

Is this my strength, my true strength? she thought, gazing at the hairpins on her open palm. I really want to believe that they are my own, but . . . Her musing brought her back to the vision she had. If there was anything clear other than the blurred faces of the two people in there, it would be this:

The woman in the vision was wearing these same pair of hairpins.

He waited until the six little insects returned into their corporeal forms. He didn't like stakeout missions. It always got boring when you had to keep an eye on a certain target day-in and day-out. For three days, he had been watching that woman and her usual activities nonstop. Wherever she went and whatever she did, he had been ordered to report it without fail. If anything unusual or extraordinary were to occur, then he would have to observe the whole event, report back to base, and debrief his superiors.

He didn't know what was the big deal about this Orihime Inoue. She was just a simple human who somehow transformed into a shinigami. Nothing threatening to their plans about that at all. She showed limited skills with the sword, and her overall performance in fights had always been like a child holding a big-ass sword. Uncoordinated, unwilling, and an utter failure.

But Nilber's report said otherwise back when he confronted her in the Karakura cemetery. According to him, Orihime Inoue displayed a great feat of battle prowess that didn't rely on style or kata but the raw instincts of battle. More than once did Nilber felt like he had been battling their own kind than a shinigami. It was thoroughly dismissed by everyone except for their Master, who listened with interest. Probably intrigued by Nilber's wild imagination. But Master acted as if he actually believed Nilber's impossible claims.

So each week, a different member of his group would watch this Orihime Inoue and report anything they could. Master didn't elaborate on what exactly was unusual, but he said that they'd know it when they see it. And boy did he see it, all right. Those six little insects were definitely something to report the higher-ups about, but where was the fun in that?

If it weren't for him and his little octopus subordinate, Numb Chandelier, then this discovery would not have happened. He also sensed the potential in the woman that would inevitably be the wrench in the Master's plans. Her use of the six insects was unrefined; she didn't look like as if she had an idea of what exactly to do but trusted her instincts instead. It wasn't a fluke in her part because the insects' powers seem to react to the woman's will and strength. If she were to be trained to use these powers of hers, then she was a force to be reckoned with. As it was, Orihime Inoue must not be allowed to live.

He knew that there may be repercussions to what he was about to do, but he also had to take priority to the Master's plans for the future. Nothing must stop it from coming into fruition. Not even that little fly in the ointment known as Orihime Inoue.

"Chandelier will be avenged," he murmured before disappearing with a noise of static from his vantage point on top of the school roof.

Tatsuki slowly woke from sleep. She felt some pangs on her back and shoulder and a sudden urge to scratch them. Her head ached like it was being drilled open, but for the most part she felt all right. Opening her eyes, she noticed that she was lying in the middle of the school courtyard and that her schoolmates were all lying on the floor, unconscious.

Then her mind retrieved the memory of what had occurred before she passed out. She was worried about Orihime, so she made an effort to stand back up and look for her, but when she saw the orange-haired girl walking towards her with tears forming in her eyes and sweat shining and staining her school blouse, face, and clavicle, she stopped moving around. For some reason, her muscles were numb and almost unresponsive. She felt tired as well.

Tatsuki tried to call out to Orihime, but her lips wouldn't move exactly as she commanded them. Giving it up as a futile cause until she recovered somewhat, she resorted to just giving Orihime a smile. That, at least, she could do.

Orihime kneeled next to Tatsuki and sighed in relief.

"Tatsu—"

Orihime's face snapped upwards.

Red blood splattered all over Tatsuki's face.

Orihime's head slowly looked back down. Both girls stared at the blade protruding from Orihime's chest, its metallic finish stained in the woman's blood.

The blade was pulled back.

And Tatsuki could only stare in horror as Orihime's bleeding body fell to the ground.

From the outside, Tatsuki croaked. But inside, she was screaming Orihime's name over and over and over, wishing that she would be all right, that this was all a dream, a dream, nothing but a dream. But tried as she might, she couldn't hold back the tears as she stared at Orihime's fading gray eyes.