It is the twenty-fourth day when he wakes up and can admit that there is something missing inside him.
Days one through twenty-three were odd, like a waking dream, like sleepwalking. Like a world whose reality was slightly off-kilter.
(No, this is normal, he had to remind himself. This is normal and this is what you wanted. What you want.)
On day seven, he had looked at his calendar and noted that week one of his resumed normalcy had drawn to a close. He'd cursed himself for remembering the date, for making it something significant.
(but maybe it is—he'd lost something, after all, a puzzle piece of his swept under the rug and into oblivion)
On day fifteen, he dreamt of faraway, shadowy figures and faces that melted into smoke when he touched them. It was day seventeen when he briefly wondered if maybe he'd been dreaming all along, and only just started to recognize reality.
He doesn't think about that again.
It is on day twenty-six (a bit more than three weeks, three long and muddled weeks since-) when he resolves not to think of it anymore, not to analyze it, to just swallow it down. Quietly, quietly.
You lost it for a reason. You lost it and regaining it now would only undo the rest.
The thought is a sour pill he forces down his throat every morning in the moments between restless dreams and restless awakening. It works for a long time, long enough that he stops counting the days, letting the numbers collect like dust in the back of his mind.
And then (slowly but surely, as the erasing of memories tends to go) everything fades back, to black, to a fractured beginning. He never squints, never looks for the cracks taped sloppily together.
And so it's on some unnumbered, countless day when he catches sight of her between blinks. She is still the same, bright hair tossing and flowing like ocean waves, slender ankles turning and tilting on her own axis.
He thinks this until she breezes by him with a sunny "Good morning, Kurosaki-kun!" so that he almost misses it.
But she's turning the corner with that thin, little thing drawing the corners of her mouth up and away, with foreign eyes full of fog and mist and rainclouds. She turns away and, because she is who she is, he turns with her to catch her hand.
"K-Kurosaki-kun?"
He blinks again and it's gone just as quickly, hidden in the creases of her brow.
"Inoue, what's wrong?"
She blinks in a flushed, doe-eyed surprise. "E-eh?"
"Is… is something wrong?" He sees her about to smile, about to dust his concern away, and quickly asks, "Are you… it's been… I…"
Do you feel this emptiness, too?
He waits for something to say, absently letting his palm cool against her fingertips.
"Are you alright, Kurosaki-kun?" she asks, softly and slowly.
(and sometimes it's the simplest of questions that are the most difficult to answer)
"You know," she continues, like it's a secret, "I've been... counting the days, too." He inhales sharply, before he can stop himself, and she looks faintly apologetic. "It isn't something very easy to forget. And it's… painful when the people you… you care about are upset. Especially when you know how important something is to them."
"…Inoue-"
She presses his hand and he forgets what it is he wants to say.
"But I'll keep smiling if you will, Kurosaki-kun! Promise?"
He knows it isn't that simple. He knows that she knows it, too. But he watches her earnest expression and knows that it's far better than the half-hearted smile he'd seen haunting her mouth.
"Okay."
this was meant to address how Ichigo and Orihime dealt with their period of inactivity during the timeskip. I know Orihime decided to dedicate herself to training, but I wanted to write about the very early days. I chose this particular chapter title because of the similar feelings both characters were experiencing, also the sort of chain reaction that Ichigo's feelings have on Orihime.
let me know what you think!