Requested by Bowser Blanchette- thank you. Strange pairing :)
Hanatarou x Orihime x Tatsuki
Thin
Tatsuki sighed as she tried to straighten Orihime's arm as she stood stock still in a martial arts stance. The sentiment of her sigh did not falter when she looked at Hanatarou, who was already drooping into his normal stooped-shoulder stature.
The problem was, neither of them were built for combat.
She could feel the toughened muscle in her arms when she flexed, the coil of wired strength across her body. Her skin was tanned, and the palms of her hands were calloused and dry. There was nothing weak looking about her toned and stalwart frame.
But Hanatarou's ribs stuck out like etchings of scars on his chest, and his neck had the same narrow frailty as the stem of a lily. You could see the line of the bone on Orihime's wrists, and the delicate tracings of blue through her near-translucent skin. When he looked out at the world Hana blinked like a startled rabbit, caught in the headlights of a life that was going to be the death of him, and there were so many nights when she woke to the sound of Orihime's tears, buried in her pillow, at nightmares of blood and trying to heal people that were just too, too dead to ever be recovered.
They were immaculate, insubstantial, and all she could do was hold them and love them and try her hardest to teach them just how to defend themselves, if ever there came a time when they were separated from the shinigami, or from Ichigo.
They were thin creatures, in every sense of the world.
And the worst part was, she knew, that whilst she strived to protect them both, if a war were to ever reoccur, it would be the two of them sent back to the front line. Orihime would once more mend the unmendable, and Hanatarou would do what he could for those who were not so far into oblivion.
And she would wait alone at home, perfectly safe in a world far removed from theirs, practising her meagre assimilations of war and waiting for her frail, beautiful warriors to find their way safe to her bed again.