Date written: 15/04/10 – 05/05/10

Posted on FanFiction: 10/05/10

A/N: Stuff happened these past few weeks. I've been getting a little rusty in the writing department for a while; I haven't set foot on a keyboard, typing away, for a whole goddamn week. It sure felt like a total reprieve from the stress, but I was getting used to a different kind of stress for the time being. Guess it's now time to juggle them around and hope I don't get burned out. Oh well.

Anyway, the events in this chapter parallels to that of the manga in some situations. I might be taking some anime adaptations, but I feel that the manga is more solid in its approach.

--- CHAPTER 25 ---

The Sin of Envy

Ichigo was not unfazed when he saw his closet empty. Thinking that maybe it was too early—no matter how absurd it kind of seemed—he checked his bedside clock, and sure enough it was way past twilight. The night sky outside his window was just the cherry on top. He didn't have some internal organizer that tells him when and where he will have to go, but he sure had a feeling that Rukia did. Whenever it turned to night, she was always inside his closet, wearing one of the pajamas she had commandeered (more like stolen) from his sister Yuzu's drawers. And even then, she would leave a note if she were to be out late by herself. He sure as hell wasn't going to stop her.

But tonight he felt . . . he didn't know what he felt, but it was giving off some very bad vibes, almost like a sense of forebode before tragedy struck. He shrugged it off as worrying too much over something that didn't need much concern.

The plate of onigiri (tr. "Rice balls") was left on his hand as he tried to think of a possible explanation of Rukia's absence. No warning. No note. Not even a verbal reminder. He didn't let this strange occurrence get to his head, though. The woman was ten times his age, so surely she could take care of herself without him hovering down on her like some overprotective mother hen (the comparison to a female chicken made his eye twitch). As it was, the onigiri he prepared for her dinner would go to waste if she didn't come back soon.

Well, a little dessert before getting some homework done didn't kill anybody, he thought mildly as he took a bite on an onigiri. He continued his late dessert at the foot of his bed, thoughts of Rukia temporarily forgotten as his mind juggled with a different topic. It didn't last too long when he suddenly heard something scurrying under his bed. Outwardly, he looked to be disinterested, but his mind started going over what could be down there. It could be a stray animal that had done the impossible and got into his room, but Ichigo didn't put much faith in that theory. If his instincts were to be believed, it might be one of the banes of his unusual life.

Without hesitation, he got out of bed and stuck his hand under it, and then pulled whatever that was scurrying out. And it happened to be none other than Kon, tied up and gagged like a poor slop who was about to be tossed overboard with cement shoes.

Probably a good way to get rid of 'em for good, he thought as he stared at the plush toy who was struggling out of his binds and Ichigo's grip. Nah, it'd be a waste of cement.

"You into bondage or something, buddy?" Ichigo asked.

Kon shot an indignant glare at him, while shaking his head violently.

"Then why are you tied up like that?"

The Mod Soul did all he could to voice out the reason, but whoever gagged him was quite good in reinforcing the knots on the rag around his mouth. And Ichigo had no objection to let the little guy suffer for a few more seconds. Kon squirmed and shouted and cried all at the same time, and when Ichigo had enough of the sadistic fun, he pulled the gag out. Forcefully.

"IYAAAAHHH!!!"

"Pipe down, you loudmouth Simba, or you'll wake Yuzu." He made sure to emphasize his sister's name, just to see him stiffen. The shutting up part was only an added bonus. "Now why were you tied up and under my bed?"

"It was Nee-san who did it!"

"Rukia? Hmm, I see." He then tossed the toy overhead and went back to eating the rest of the onigiri.

"Why you?! Aren't you the least bit worried about me?"

"If Rukia tied you up securely and left you under the bed where the dust, dirt, and dark lurk, then she must've done it because you pissed her off again." He scooped up the next onigiri and continued eating.

"I did no such thing to my Nee-san!" He then muttered, "Though she seemed angry even when I wanted to please her." Then loudly, "But that's beside the point. Didn't you read her letter?"

"Letter?"

Kon palmed his own face. "The one on your desk, moron! Nee-san tied me up because I caught her running away."

"Running away? From what? You're not making any sense, Kon."

"Then read the goddamn letter." He ran to the desk and took the envelope placed neatly on the center. Giving it to Ichigo, he added, "Read it quick."

Ichigo did so. And after figuring out the weird word puzzle she had done, it was made clear on what her intentions were. He cursed loudly, crunching the paper into a ball and threw it at the corner. "That idiot," he growled.

"We have to save Nee-san, Ichigo. She can't possibly handle this on her own. Soul Society must've already sent someone to capture her by now."

"I know." He grabbed the plushie and proceeded to choke it with his hand inside its mouth. When he successfully extracted the Mod Soul pill, he wiped it with his shirt (no telling what was inside that toy he salvaged from the garbage) and ingested it. There was a lightheaded and tingly feeling of being pushed out of his skin before he stood in his shinigami robes. "Stay here and do my homework."

"Do your what?"

Ichigo jumped out his window and ran down the street.

"You don't even know where she went, idiot!" was Kon's final words in the distance.

The Mod Soul was right. Ichigo didn't know where Rukia had gone off to, but the message she left sure implied that she was heading out of the city. There was still time to catch up to her if he hurried, though. She wouldn't have been gone for more than two hours, and he was sure that Rukia wouldn't use vehicular transportation to rush out of the city. She could use a phone, but the rest of modern culture eluded her a lot. Fact was that she'd be running on foot at least until her body needed rest. That narrowed down the search radius, but the problem would be the direction. If he took too long searching one area, she'd be moving farther and farther away.

"I really hope luck is on my side tonight," he murmured as he turned the corner of the street.

With the last character written, Orihime stretched her arms to the ceiling and took in a deep and satisfying breath. Her subsequent sigh was of relief as she closed her books and notes. The essay homework their Social Studies teacher had given them was more time-consuming than she first surmised. Orihime had thought she would've finished everything by quarter-past seven, but the minutes stretched until they reached the number fifty-two.

But all of that was over and done with for tonight, and Orihime congratulated herself for not getting herself into an all-nighter. Her grades were suffering with the extra time needed for shinigami duties, but she didn't complain. The difference in grades was minimal and her overall class standing was still high enough to not warrant some last minute cramming. Most of the time, anyway.

Now that she had most of the night to herself, she decided on having a light snack while finishing up on some of her reading. Equal Romance: Volume III was just begging to be read. She remembered that she had stopped after an insane plot twist threw her for a loop, and also remembered that she had to mentally tell herself over five times that it was a school night, getting late, and she needed sleep. Well, tonight gave her hours for her reading pleasure; she was sure to go to sleep happy.

But as she was about to open her fridge, she sensed a slight disturbance in the serenity of the night. Two distinct sources of spiritual energy, concentrated in one area, suddenly appeared. It wasn't a Hollow, she was sure of that. It was something different yet at the same time familiar, almost like they were blue and red crayons—different in color, but still crayons. The only time she had felt this kind of reiatsu was when she sensed Ichigo.

Orihime bit her lip.

If her hunch was indeed right, then she was sensing the suppressed reiatsu of two powerful shinigami. But why would they be here?

Unless they're here for Kuchiki-san, she thought. While she was a little happy that someone from Soul Society was checking up on one of their own, she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was incredibly wrong in this picture. Maybe it was a spur of the moment, but the urge to go out and investigate was gnawing at her respect of privacy for others.

Hang on a sec.

As far as Orihime knew, Rukia was staying at Ichigo's place. So why are the two shinigami moving away from the Kurosaki home?

This doesn't seem to be about Kuchiki-san, she thought. She rushed back into her bedroom, light snack and leisure reading forgotten, and grabbed the device Urahara had given to her yesterday. It was a small, red rectangular object compact enough to fit in her palm, like an iPhone. The graffiti-styled skull printed on one side of the device was the same as the one on Rukia's Skull Glove. Orihime had tested this device a few times last night to test its credibility out and had been more than happy with the results. All she had to do was press the black button opposite the skull-printed side and it was instant soul ejection.

Her forefinger was already halfway in depressing the button, where she would soon feel a slight electric shock before the tingling feeling of her soul coming out of its physical shell, like a snake shedding out its old skin. She halted her progress, not really sure why she was doing so.

She turned towards her window, looking over the nightlife of Karakura, how the indoor lights and street lights made a great impression of pseudo-stars as darkness loomed even in the brightest spots of the city. Orihime took it as an omen, not the brightness but darkness. Call it intuition or an affinity with sensing disturbances from shadows, but the void look of the night's darkness gave her a chill that had nothing to do with nyctophobia.

She let go of her finger from the button. Once her mind had caught up to her and the tension caused by the chill died down, she thought back to what Rukia had informed her about Soul Society politics. Most of it was confusing since Orihime never once dabbled into politics and the like, but she still caught the gist of what Rukia tried to imply: Soul Society is strict and merciless when it comes to the rules they enacted. And Orihime had a feeling that they keep a very keen eye on their shinigami, so if she were to just suddenly appear in her shinigami form then she would no doubt be in some form of trouble.

Her instincts told her to play this with caution. So going shinigami was to be her last option once she got to where the shinigami's reiatsu were. With grim determination, Orihime stepped out of her apartment and dashed to the two shinigami's location.

"Well, well, well." The ponytailed redhead smirked as they found their target easily enough. He idly wondered if he should get himself a pair of these reiatsu-tracking goggles; it would sure come in handy in the future.

Their target stopped dead in her tracks, her gaze upward at the top of two electric poles. Her subtle movements showed the intension of running away, but it soon deflated. Hah! At least she was smart enough to know that it was futile to begin with.

"It's been a while, Rukia," he said, eyeing the woman with a cocky yet disapproving glance.

"So it has, Renji," she replied, her hands balling into fists. She looked at the other shinigami. "Nii-sama."

Ichigo dashed through the rooftops, searching everywhere for Rukia. There were a few times where he swooped down to the streets when he saw a head of raven hair, but they were all people he didn't know or recognize. Just night strollers walking along. To tell the truth, he was beginning to get frustrated from the lack of success. For every failure in his search and for every minute wasted, Rukia was getting closer and closer to escaping his clutches. Time was against him and didn't seem to be the negotiable type.

Still, he marched on, hoping that he'd at least catch a break tonight. When he jumped back down to the barely lit streets to investigate another raven-haired figure walking out of his field of vision at a T-intersection, he bumped into someone when he turned the corner.

Of course, the fact that he had been running and the one he bumped into had been doing the same the force of their respective momentums caused both to lose their balance and, with Ichigo's momentum much stronger than the other, landing in a heap with the man on top. An apology was already out of his lips before his mind caught onto the feeling of what he was holding in his right hand.

In the middle of that T-intersection, with the streetlight above them casting down a cone-shaped beam reminiscent of a spotlight, Ichigo stared into familiar gray eyes that were widened in shock. Those same eyes looked downwards and they widened even further, cheeks shifting to a deep red color.

"Inoue?"

It was her, all right. Though he could hardly understand her stammering of a reply.

"What is it?"

And that was when his mind finally registered the soft feeling in his right hand. Something soft and oddly familiar contact, as if he had touched this spot before . . .

Shock entered him as the realization kicked in. Sadly, his shock also invited an involuntary response to his right hand, squeezing the soft object harder.

Orihime yelped, turning even redder. "K—K—Kurosaki-kun!"

"Ah, uh, ah, I'm sorry!" He shouted before creating a ten-foot distance between him and her. The very soft feeling of one of her breasts still tingled in his hand. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it at all."

"No, it's my fault," she said. "I wasn't careful while I was running, and uh . . ."

"I wasn't looking where I was going, either." That was a lie. He knew where he was going and had his eyes set on something, but never would have suspected to bump into a familiar face that was not the runaway's.

Orihime straightened herself out and stood up. "Why are you running anyway at this hour, Kurosaki-kun?"

"I should ask the same for you. Rukia ran away."

"Ran away? But"—she pointed at the direction she was running to—"isn't she with the other shinigami from Soul Society?"

"Eh? They're already here?"

She nodded with an affirmative hum. "Two of them are over there. I went out because I just had this really bad feeling."

"Well then, let's go."

Without any other word to say, the two of them ran to where Orihime believed the shinigami were at.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

"Yeah?"

". . . do you have a breast fetish?"

"Gah!" Ichigo was sure he was blushing. "No! Absolutely not!"

"Oh." She sighed in relief. "Good."

He didn't know what she had been thinking, but it was best he didn't find out.

Orihime panted, taking very deep breaths and exhalations, as they finally made it where she sensed the shinigami were at. She was still working on improving her stamina. Peering over the corner of the street, she saw Ishida fighting a shinigami with long spiky red hair done in a ponytail. Orihime wasn't sure if those humongous things on his forehead were his eyebrows or just tattoos.

"Kurosaki-kun, what should we do?"

The redhead had a smirk on his face as he executed a feint before slashing at the opening Ishida had made. It was a clean cut, even from where Orihime was standing, and Ishida was now down for the count. The shinigami walked closer to the Quincy's prone form, blood seeping out of the sword wound on his chest, and raised his sword high.

Ichigo had reacted quicker than her, as he literally flashed by her and then pushed the redheaded shinigami out of the way. There was momentary shock from both her and the redhead; for Orihime it was more of amazement since she never knew Ichigo could be so quick.

But there's another person there, she thought as she surveyed the whole street, spotting Rukia and another shinigami a little farther away from where the battle between Ichigo and the redhead commenced. The shinigami with the long black hair and white haori draped over his shoulders looked almost indifferent at the battle, as if he already knew the outcome would be the victory of the redhead. That or maybe he just didn't care.

Whichever it was, Orihime wasn't taking any chances. She readied the soul-extraction device Urahara had given her and pressed the button. She felt the bond between her physical shell and her soul slowly cutting away. Her soul was already halfway out before a sudden surge of pain raced through her whole being. She couldn't scream; her lungs felt closed off and her throat constricted so tightly that she was choking.

Did something go wrong? This never happened before when she tested the device before. But—

Nuh-uh-uh, princess.

Her soul was then forced back into its human body. The whole experience left Orihime disoriented as she supported herself at a nearby wall, breathing heavily and it was not because of her earlier dash. Large beads of sweat cascaded down her face as her whole body convulsed as if she were shivering from the cold, barely able to keep her knees from giving out. Gaining back some of her breath, she tried to voice out a question but realized that her throat was as dry as the desert. Swallowing her saliva a few times helped a bit, but it was like pouring a glass of water on a bucket of dry sand.

What was that?

I just wanted to have a little bit of fun.

Emi?

It's not the old hag, that's for sure, hon.

What did you do?

I only forced your soul back into your body. Don't want to tip the scales to the bitch's advantage, after all.

She clenched her fists. Kurosaki-kun needs my help!

And I'm stopping you for it.

Why? She always thought Emi felt the same feelings she had of Ichigo. They were polar opposites in almost every way, but surely Emi's unhidden lusting for the male orangehead was a clear indicator to a common similarity between both sides.

Think about it for a minute, princess. These shinigami surely came for the Rukia bitch. Ichigo-kun said that she ran away because Soul Society was after her for a crime she had committed. Do you know what crime that was?

She bit her lip. Peeking at the corner again, she saw Ichigo dueling toe-to-toe with the ponytailed redhead, their swords clashing with enhanced speed and power that were borderline inhuman. The sounds of their swords reached her ears, and Orihime was vaguely reminded of a drummer playing a fast, rhythm-less succession of beats.

Sensing no answer to come, Emi continued, Giving a normal human shinigami powers.

Orihime gasped, eyes widening at the implication. Then they're here to arrest Kuchiki-san.

Oh, no, not just arrest, princess. The consequences of such a vile act are being stripped of your spiritual powers and a public execution.

Th—Then I should help her more than ever! I can't let Kuchiki-san die.

You really think so, princess?

I don't 'think,' I know so.

Even when you realize that one day Ichigo-kun might start falling for the bitch?

I . . . that's . . .

There's an alternative. It's easy, Orihime-chan. Just stay where you are. Do not do a thing. Ichigo will be defeated, and once they leave with Rukia-bitch in tow, you go over there and heal Ichigo up. Good as new.

I can't! I won't! You won't make me!

Tsk. Can't hurt a girl for trying, eh?

Orihime was about to press the device's button again—

That doesn't mean I'll let you go, though.

—but a sense of dread overcame her, numbing the feeling on her hand, which dropped the device to the pavement. Her legs were next, as she slid down with her back to the wall. She could barely breathe, her actions quite similar to that of a woman having an asthma attack. Her other hand gripped the wrist of her numb one, its fingers dancing in mini-convulsions as if the nerves went haywire. Black spots formed in her vision, which almost went unnoticed as she stared into the night sky clouded by the darkest clouds she had ever seen, almost like a shroud. And a fearful part of her mind wondered if there were two brown evil-looking eyes behind those clouds.

She couldn't move her legs. And only the nonstop exchange of two locking blades gave her a window to the dangerous reality of their situation. Ichigo was alone to fend off two shinigami. Orihime had enough sense to understand that a shinigami had more experience with ways of the sword and Hollow extermination than her and Ichigo combined. He would be hard-pressed, brought to his limit, and ultimately be backed into a corner, with nothing to expect but the cold and final blow from a zanpakuto that was not his.

And Orihime didn't want that. Emi thought otherwise, showing more agreement on Rukia's arrest than Ichigo's safety.

It's only because I have faith that he'll survive . . . which you honestly lack, by the way.

Orihime would never agree to that. Even if Ichigo was as sturdy as Superman, she would never allow him to be in harm's way when she could lessen the danger for him. And with this in mind, she tried her damnedest to break free from the constraints Emi had applied to her nervous system. How the alter-ego had such control over her bodily functions, Orihime wasn't sure.

Legs were still unresponsive, and mostly every part of her body. The only thing she could move was her head, which was leaning on the wall's corner, giving her a tiny sided view of the shinigami battle. The redheaded shinigami somehow did something to his zanpakuto and it suddenly started acting as if it were a sword and lasso hybrid. Orihime feared for the worst.

She didn't give up trying, but her hope slowly deteriorated. And inside herself, Emi's face adorned a grin. Everything was going according to her plans. Soon, not even Orihime could resist.

The seed had been planted. Grown. Sprouted. It would not be long for it to bear fruit.

Ichigo grunted in pain. That was an unexpected attack, one that worked to that pineapple-head's advantage. If he had known that a shinigami's zanpakuto's release could create such a change in the sword's appearance, he would've tried to think of a counterattack. But it was too late for that now, and besides, it wasn't as if he was expecting a fight with one of Rukia's former comrades.

His shoulder seared with pain, but he endured it, ignored it for the moment. Mostly he was relying on the adrenaline rush to null down the pain, though it helped little in the tremor in his hands. Whether this was the result of the accumulated pain, a bit of blood loss, the adrenaline rush, or a combination of two or all three, it didn't matter after his opponent decided to make an encore attack, aiming it towards Ichigo's left shoulder again.

Pushing any other thought than blocking out of his state of mind, Ichigo readied his ogre-sized blade to intercept the pseudo-whip Ren-something's zanpakuto had become. But it seemed concentrating on blocking was a bad idea. His sword only clashed with the middle side of the whip-blade, causing the pointed end that passed him to tilt and connect with his back and wounded shoulder.

"Gck!" his voice grunted through gritted teeth, which was followed by a weak cough. Still stunned with the pain of getting pierced a second time, he could only glare at his opponent as he pulled the whip-blade back, scratching Ichigo's flesh like sharp talons. His knees gave out, but he forced his body not to drop down like a defeated fighter. Rukia's life was on the line and he'd be damned if he'd let these assholes take her away.

The shaking worsened and his grip suffered for it. His zanpakuto dropped at almost the same moment his knees met the pavement, while he pulled his upper body back to remain in the kneeling position. He clenched his fists through the unending pain and humiliation. Hopelessness followed. These two had the upper hand, and he never saw it at all.

Was there something wrong with his ears? That pineapple-head was telling him something, probably a 'sorry but I'm going to kill you now' sentence filled with sarcasm. All he could really hear were jumbled words as if he were underwater while listening to someone talk above the surface. He even heard Rukia's voice trying to tell him something. He couldn't tell what she was doing; his head was down, strength too weak to lift it back up and glare at his enemy.

But he had a feeling that what she was really doing was something reckless. An action that might resort to the shinigami to kill her.

Grab your sword, dammit! he thought, fists clenching and unclenching. There must be some way for him to get back into the fight. Rukia was counting on him, even if she never stated it outright. If he lost here, he'd lose the only chance to rescue her and then she'd die. He had to save her; he owed her that much. He just had to!

Without him realizing it—a probable act of desperation, either for survival or that dominant trait of his to save people—he unleashed a power hidden within the deep confines of his soul, a bursting feeling of such overwhelming intensity that Ichigo had a hard time comprehending just its magnitude. It was like an inner dam had cracked and subsequently broken down, letting the current from the other side flood his soul instead of distributing it in controlled amounts. And all at once his tremor ceased, his senses becoming strangely acute. Then the pain subsided, as if his brain's pain receptors had shut down. He was sure this wasn't what death was like because he could still move his body and the lit street was still in his line of sight. Rukia's screams entered his ears. Distress. Yes, distress.

He felt no pain. He, honest to God, felt no pain at all.

He actually felt good. Really good.

In a half daze, as if his eyes were covered in tears and his mind as groggy as a man who had been under the influence, he reached for his zanpakuto, clenching it tight in his palm enough to whiten his fingers. He slowly stood, balance no longer an issue, the pain in his shoulder nothing but a hazy memory. His eyes set upon his target, who looked at him and grinned. Ichigo felt like grinning himself. The hopelessness, the doubts, the fear, all of that had disappeared in the blink of an eye, and its place was the towering presence of confidence, determination, and the lust for battle.

He was drooling in anticipation of finally wiping that grin off the bastard's face!

Like what he had done to absorb this vast power, he unleashed it, this time outwards instead of inwards, converting its presence to that of reiatsu. And just as he thought, that Ren-guy's grin was replaced to that of bewilderment. But it would soon be replaced with another expression, the one he'd really like to see: Fear.

One second he was standing in front of his opponent, the next he was standing behind him. A gout of blood burst out of his opponent's shoulder. Aaaah, payback's a bitch, ain't she?!

Ichigo couldn't believe it. The guy was as slow as a snail now. Did his reiatsu do that to him?

Grinning madly, he lifted his zanpakuto once more and prepared for another strike, this time he went low. One simple swipe; that was all he needed to propel the bastard up while he tried to dodge that lethal slice. The guy's shades were cut in half while he was sporting a bloody gash that stained most of the center of his face. And his expression . . . oh finally! That was it. That was what he was waiting for. Fear, fear, fear.

Ichigo made certain that his next strike would be the final blow, the one to take this asshole out. Not bothering to give the guy time to recover from his brush from death, he dashed forward in the inhuman speed he had done before. He swung his arm in a quick arc, aiming to behead the redhead.

Then he realized that his sword felt unreasonably light for some reason. He looked down, and only two inches of his zanpakuto was on the hilt guard. The rest was gone. His high came to an abrupt end as rationality began to reassert itself into Ichigo's mind. What was once overwhelming confidence that was borderline cockiness turned to confusion and astonishment. His only weapon had been easily cut cleanly without his noticing. The redhead, who looked to be in the same boat as his, emotion-wise, didn't do it. He was certain of that. So that left—

There the other guy stood, yards away from where he and the redhead were. For him to get from there to here and then back would be almost like teleportation. No man could go that fast. But reality seemed to have warped for tonight because what the man with the cold exterior held in his hand was the separated part of Ichigo's zanpakuto.

The man dropped the broken blade and held his katana. Ichigo tensed, preparing for the attack even with his zanpakuto looking as useless as a dull switchblade. But the attack never came . . . or that was what he thought it to be. The man just disappeared all of a sudden, and his presence reappearing just behind him. Ichigo didn't even see the man move. All he felt within that moment of utter bewilderment was the pain in his chest.

Did he attack him in the front? Or the back?

Ichigo couldn't tell anymore. The pain was unlike anything he had felt, and with each passing second he grew weaker and weaker. He couldn't breathe, and dark circles were already forming in his fading vision. There was a scream, not from Rukia's but Orihime's.

Orihime . . .

Ichigo couldn't think straight. There was only pain.

Pain.

Battles within the self always sounded like a philosophical or religious phrase that few would even take it literally. Orihime wished she could be part of the majority because her own battle within the self wasn't ending in her favor. There was a small part of her mind that was left wondering why Emi didn't just take over like she did last time, but she left that little thought in the backburner while she wrestled for total dominance over the body. It did no good that she still had a view—poor but the best she could get in her situation—of Ichigo's fight. It was almost one-sided when the redhead's zanpakuto transformed into a more intimidating sword, one that she had never seen before. It stretches and retracts as if it were some kind of rubber whip.

The wound on Ichigo's shoulder looked deep, and blood was pouring out enough to stain a redder shade on his shihakusho, if it were possible. He had knelt down, eyes shadowed over by the streetlight above him, and became still. When the redhead was spewing off some taunts before striking the final blow, he was stopped. Rukia had tried to help—Orihime was sure she did all she could do in her situation—but Ichigo didn't take the opening. While Rukia opted for him to run, Orihime knew he wouldn't when Rukia was still pretty much in danger. He was like that, always had been.

And showing such concern to Rukia made her jealous, no matter the illogic of the statement.

What Orihime would've expected from Ichigo, if he were not actually unconscious while on his knees, at that moment was to grab his sword and continue the fight. He might've gained an advantage if he slashed the redhead while Rukia was on his back, but there was also a sense of honor in his ways. It was rough around the edges sometimes, and he most definitely wouldn't give Hollows a fleeting chance to catch him unguarded, being that most were as mindless and merciless as a hungry zombie, but when it came to more intelligent foes like these shinigami, honor was in the battle.

And Ichigo had not only honor but the life of a friend on the line, so the next thing Orihime saw while she finally regained some motor control on her wrists was Ichigo picking up his sword with his head still down. Something was different about his stance and the way he exhaled, as if . . . he was reveling something. And it was setting Orihime's senses in tsunami-like waves of unbidden desire. This was Emi's lust, she was sure of it.

Her cheeks blushed and her breath hitched a few times, as if she were shivering. She bit her lip hard, controlling the urge. But Emi's lust seemed to have its use because Orihime had been able to regain firm control back. She didn't hesitate in pushing Emi back into the dark corners of her mind and making sure that she stayed there. A caged door locked with every padlock, security systems, and maybe an additional four or five air-tight vaults to reassure herself were what she had conjured inside her head. It was total security and no one—

Locked doors can't stop me. I'm like a ghost, princess. I can just walk past through them.

Orihime didn't like that revelation, but she had been desperate for total dominance. The fact that she had been unable to help Ichigo when he went into the fray headfirst without a plan and backup could be a main example of having an alter-ego who liked to play around.

While she was in the middle of lifting herself from the ground, dusting her butt once she did, the fluctuation of Ichigo's reiatsu astounded her. Emi must've felt this before the others did. It was almost intimidating when you were near its presence, and its intimidation factor received a relative boost when she realized an aspect in Ichigo's rising reiatsu that seemed to be the source of it all: Battle lust.

She could hear Emi's erotic sighs echoing in her head, urging her to join in on the reveling.

Ichigo was not a sadistic person, but his reiatsu felt like it had a mind of its own, engulfing Ichigo's sense of reason and honor and mutating it into its own manner of madness. Orihime was not sure if this boost could be considered a miracle or a curse. If he could win by using this newfound power, then all the better. But she dreaded to think that this battle lust phase would become permanent. That'd be like admitting Emi's soul mate was Ichigo, which, while technically was herself, didn't bode well for her and him.

Faster than she could blink, Ichigo flashed into existence right behind his opponent, who now sported a new wound on his shoulder, and Ichigo's ogre-sized zanpakuto stained with bits of blood. When she saw his sadistic smile as he turned around to face the redhead again, a shiver went down her spine. Whether this response was because of Orihime's fear or Emi's desire, the former was not sure.

It all seemed like the tides were turning to Ichigo's favor, but during those moments of witnessing a swift change in Ichigo's attitude, not even she realized the analyzing gaze the raven-haired shinigami had been giving him since the start of the battle. His face was set in stone, expressionless and unfazed regardless of which side was winning. If Orihime had known about this, she would've known that the man did not plan to be a bystander all this time; if his companion needed help, he would give it. And Orihime would've been more perceptive in intervening.

But Fate was cruel in that way. When Orihime finally recalled that there were two shinigami who had been sent to the Human World, it would be too late. In front of her, she saw the raven-haired man drop the cut up of Ichigo's zanpakuto and instantly phase right behind him, almost taking revenge to what Ichigo had done to the redhead.

She screamed Ichigo's name when he collapsed. Her feet, although feeling a little jelly-like, brought her to his side in a matter of seconds, and the presence of two shinigami who could very well surprise attack her was thrown out of her mind. What mattered was Ichigo's condition, and it didn't look good at all.

He was bleeding, erupting in intervals as if his veins pushed out blood whenever he tried to breathe. Above, the thick clouds she had seen tonight were starting the shower of a July rain, washing away the blood spilled from the escalated battle.

He's going to die, she thought. He's going to die. He's going to die. He's going to die. She grabbed his hands—still warm, thank God—and shook them vehemently. "Kurosaki-kun! Kurosaki-kun!" She wanted him to respond, to grunt, to say anything, wanted to make sure that he was still alive.

The shower turned to rain as the two shinigami behind her conversed in a speech she didn't let her mind try to comprehend. Her whole attention was on Ichigo.

Byakuya watched as the human girl fussed over the human-turned-shinigami he had just eliminated. He had been quite sufficient in his execution of destroying whatever spiritual powers the unsophisticated teen had received from his adopted little sister, and knew that the boy would not live past tonight. The wounds were precise and lethal. It was unthinkable for one such as him to take an innocent life because of this, but it was a law of Soul Society and he promised to never again break another law.

"Who is this girl?" he asked Rukia, who stared at the prone figure of the boy he had given a slow-acting death sentence. "Rukia."

The mention of her name snapped her attention back at him, and she once again squirmed at the indifferent gaze he was giving her. Rukia always had a hard time keeping the Kuchiki mask in place because before she had become a noble she was greatly in touch with her emotions, wearing her heart on her sleeves, if he remembered the idiom correctly. A lot like Hisana was. Reminiscing aside, he reiterated his query, wanting to know more about this human girl who seemed to have the ability to see them and the boy lying in his own pool of blood. It started to rain. He didn't mind.

"She's not involved in this at all, Nii-sama," Rukia replied. She shook her head as she continued in a whisper, "Please don't kill her too."

"Our orders were strictly to get you back to Soul Society and kill the human who has received your powers. There was nothing mentioned concerning murder of innocent civilians."

Rukia sighed in relief.

"But you did not answer my question, Rukia."

She stiffened. Her face showed hesitance before it settled into a more sedated expression that made Byakuya aware that Rukia had half-succeeded in reinserting the indifference in her outward exterior. When she was pressured, it was hard for her to do this much, and while he was at least satisfied that she hadn't been slacking off in her noble training, that did not deter him from his mission, which took priority from anything else.

"Who is the girl?" he repeated.

"Her name is Orihime Inoue."

"And what is she to the boy?" He couldn't understand why it was important for him to know more about the girl. Maybe it was the strange aura of her above-average human reiatsu. It almost felt like that of a shinigami, but no matter improbable the thought was, his calculating mind told something different. It was more incline to be correct than his instincts in puzzling situations such as this, but Byakuya also had a sense of reason that told enough warning bells for him to dismiss such an absurd idea. So maybe the sudden interest was because of something else his mind had picked up unconsciously but hadn't processed yet.

"She's . . . she's . . . she's in love with Ichigo." Her expression was unchanged, but the hesitance was surprising. Not a lot, but it was something to take note.

"I see."

"Sonten Kisshun, I reject!"

Three heads turned towards the girl, her hands touching the sides of her head, as she finished her chant. There was a light coming from her hair before two beams of light shot out and formed an elliptical bowl and encased the injured boy.

"What is that girl doing?" Renji blurted, disbelief present in his face.

"Rukia," Byakuya said, turning to his sister for answers.

"I never knew about this," she replied. She told the truth.

"It would seem," he started, eyes falling back to the girl named Orihime and the boy named Ichigo, whose wounds were miraculously healing, "that there is more to Orihime Inoue than what meets the eye."

Orihime wrapped Ichigo inside the barrier of Ayame and Shun'uo. She concentrated all her spiritual energy towards the healing process and hope that she wasn't too late to save Ichigo's life. Her eyes brightened in relief as she saw the pooling blood diminishing and the heavier stains on his outfit was disappearing, as if she were rewinding time. Her distraction slowed down the healing process, so she cleared her mind and tried to finish up the healing.

She didn't concentrate everything at the healing, however. There was still the danger of the two shinigami behind her and also Rukia's safety to think about. She just entered into the fray completely disregarding the element of surprise—though she doubted she'd be able to need it—and panicked in a matter of seconds. It was a good thing that her hand brushed her hairpin while resettling a lock of hair behind her ear; she had completely forgotten about her new powers which could be accessed without going shinigami.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw movement from Rukia, who was moving towards her. A hand rested on her shoulder, halting her progress. It was the aristocrat man, his cold and emotionless eyes boring at Orihime. He and Rukia exchanged few words before she looked somehow resigned and nodded at him.

Rukia came towards her, while the aristocrat checked his companion's condition. Her eyes looked defeated.

"Kuchiki-san," Orihime began, but Rukia halted what she wanted to say with just the gesture of her hand and the serious expression on her face.

"I must go with them," she stated, not a hint of fear or anger or sadness. It all came out like a robot's monotonous dictation. But Orihime knew that Rukia had made her mind about this. Her eyes, once filled with spunk and self-esteem, told her a story without the need for words or pictures. It was in there that she realized that her friend would not be coming home with them tonight. Not now. Not ever. She and Ichigo were too late. They lost her.

"But, Kuchiki-san!" she tried to make her see reason, that this was not right, but any other word that might've come after that sentence was shot down by Orihime herself. She didn't know why, though.

"I have no choice, Inoue-san," Rukia said. "If you value your life, if you value Ichigo's life . . . you won't stop me." She eyed the two shinigami behind her warily. "Will Ichigo be all right?"

Orihime nodded.

"I see. When he wakes up, please tell him I'm sorry."

She nodded again.

"Take care." She walked away, turning her back at her and allowed the two shinigami to escort her into the glowing shouji (tr. "Sliding doors"), which suddenly appeared in the middle of the street, without a fight.

Seeing her going away like that after all Ichigo had put in his effort to save her, Orihime clenched her fists and dismissed the warning bells rang by her survival instincts. Double-checking if Ichigo would be fine without her healing, she stood up and faced them. She had picked up the soul-ejecting device before she stepped out of the shadows, and now it lay in her hand, ready to be used for its sole purpose.

"Kuchiki-san, wait!" Her finger was now on top of the button.

Rukia's eyes widened when she spotted the device. "Inoue-san, stop it!"

She didn't listen and pressed—

Didn't we go through this before, princess?

Emi!

Her hands shook. Her head looked down.

Don't stop me. I have to save Kuchiki-san. For Kurosaki-kun.

And then what, princess? What happens next?

It'll be all right. Everything will be—

Don't delude yourself with your petty denial. It just disgusts me.

Denial?

Yes, denial. Or maybe you just haven't taken the time to think about the consequences of what your actions would entail in the future? In case you don't realize this, princess, but these shinigami have come for the bitch for a reason. And they're not about to let this slide by if you succeed in defeating those two.

I . . .

More will come. All to come for Rukia, and they won't show mercy like before. They will kill her. There's no escaping that.

But . . .

Don't you see, princess? We'll have a chance! Once Rukia is out of the picture, there will no longer be any complications in Ichigo-kun's life and he'll be pretty much open.

No, I won't listen to you. You're lying to me!

Is that a fact? Or are we still in denial? Face it, princess. You've seen the way Ichigo-kun looks at the bitch when he thought you or her weren't looking. If we let this go on for long, then he'll be falling for the wrong girl in no time flat.

No . . . no . . .

He will never notice you, then. Just another friend to him. Do you want that, girl? Just friends?

I'm okay with it. I'm okay with it. I'm . . . I'm . . .

. . . not okay with it, am I right? Anything else to add?

Almost automatically, Orihime murmured, "I'm jealous of her." No one heard her as she spoke just when thunder roared at the rainy sky. "I've always had been."

And yet you're sweeping away the chance to get rid of her. This is that moment, princess. If you save her, then you may as well be the cause of Ichigo-kun's subsequent death by the hands of Soul Society as a whole. Just let her go. Her fate . . . has already been sealed.

"Inoue-san."

Orihime looked up, almost afraid to watch the dejected eyes of someone she called a friend.

"I don't need you. Leave me alone."

That made her way look away, and it was only through the faint sound of the sliding doors echoing through the pitter-patter noise of the July rain that she realized she had let Rukia go.

The seed that had been planted on that fateful night bloomed into a powerful parasite eating its way into Orihime's heart. This was not something born from Orihime's power's awakening nor was it because of Emi's presence did it exist. It was all because of Orihime and her self-doubt. Envy is nothing more but a human sin, and it's only through human emotions can it be created.

Envy.

Jealousy.

The parasite's nutrition.

I'm a pathetic fool.

Orihime cried in the rain.

Chapter Afterword:

I just want to point out that Ichigo's presentation of sadistic fighting is relatively my own vision of his canon attitude during this part of the series. While I believe that Ichigo's Hollow side has a personality more akin to what I've given Ichigo during his innate-talent-induced high, I also have the belief that Hollow Ichigo must have an origin to his personality other than the fact that he's a Hollow. When I saw this part in both anime and manga, I came to the conclusion that maybe Ichigo was unknowingly opening a sealed door to his inborn potential, which was probably closed off due to his spiritual immune system, deeming the chaotic nature of his godlike amount of spiritual energy too harmful for his body (think of Ishida's water tap analogy). Open one lock and you're flooded with a tsunami wave of reiatsu, kind of like Son Goku going Super Saiyan 1. Now in accordance to Ichigo's battle lust, it can be said that his common sense has pretty much gone haywire when he unlocks one of those closed doors, like an alcoholic chugging down a bottle of Stoli (that famous vodka brand). Hollow Ichigo definitely gets most of his personality from this state of mind because Ichigo's instincts take over during this and he had deemed Renji as a threat. But unlike Hollow Ichigo, he still has bits of his rationality still intact (he must've already been drunk, but let's say he only chugged one bottle, not two), so the way he hesitated and felt fear when Byakuya came to the scene (Astig mo, Kuya!) is explained. But enough of my ramblings; I'm sure you know what happened in the series at this point, so I won't talk your ear off.

And I should also address the matter of Byakuya's haori. Why? In the anime and manga, he didn't have it at this time. But when he made his reappearance, the haori was now on. Why this was so, I don't know. And I've been skipping a few (okay, maybe a lot; think from Nel's transformation to the middle of the Ichigo vs Ulquiorra battle atop Las Noches) chapters in the Hueco Mundo arc that I completely have no idea if Byakuya lost his haori while he was in Hueco Mundo or didn't wear it at all, because when he and Kenpachi came to fight Yammy it was not over his shoulders. Regardless of canon intentions, I want Byakuya to have his haori on because . . . just because. Period.