Call it paranoia, but Ichigo could never leave well enough alone during periods of peace. Whether it was a symptom of his time in Europe or just his general disposition, he always felt a brooding sense of doom lurking around corners.
Indeed, it was wise to believe in the best of people, but he couldn't help but feel like he was missing something from his last encounter with Aizen. He wasn't naive enough to believe that that would be the last of their frictions.
Despite his internal chaos, however, things were still fine on the outside. At the end of the month, Ichigo sat down with his men as they counted their taxes for the season. Chad had brought in a good bounty from his betting and fixing hustle, Mizuiro's taxi business was still turning a profit, Keigo…
Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. "There's only half in this." He held up Keigo's envelope.
"Don't blame me! The owner said he was running a little short," Keigo whined.
Ichigo glared at him.
"Fine, I'll swing by the shop tomorrow and get the whole sum," Keigo concluded pathetically.
Ichigo shook his head, throwing the envelope in with the others. He counted all the stacks and tied them up before he put it back in the vault and firmly shut the door.
Chad and Mizuiro got up and gathered their coats. Keigo followed suit, then swung one arm around Ichigo's shoulders. "So! What's everyone doing tonight?"
"Promised Yuichi I'd take him out somewhere fun," Chad said, patting Keigo's head apologetically.
Mizuiro shrugged. "I'm down for whatever."
Mizuiro and Keigo both looked at Ichigo, as it was down to him now to break the tie — go their separate ways, or go out?
In all honesty, it was late, but the last thing he wanted was to go home to an empty house. The manor was still new, but it was big and it was lonely. With his sisters back in his old apartment and Ikumi in Manhattan, he had no idea what he would do all by himself in a house that big. For that reason — and others — he would much prefer staying the night with Orihime.
"I'm going to go see my girl," Ichigo decided, and Keigo groaned.
"Come on! We literally never do anything together anymore! Either you're always out at your new house—"
"—I had to get shit moved in," Ichigo interrupted dryly.
"—or you're always with your girl!"
"Sorry, buddy." Ichigo rubbed Keigo's head, not unlike the way Chad had. "Come on, you can drive me there and on the way you can tell me all about your escapades with uh…"
"Miss Ogawa," Chad provided helpfully, smiling, and Ichigo grinned at him.
"Yeah, Miss Ogawa," he said, throwing one arm around Keigo's shoulders. "I won't even interrupt you."
"Wow, now that is a sweet bargain," Mizuiro said, and he was grinning too. "You really should take up Ichigo's offer, Mr Asano. It's not everyday the boss is willing to listen to you for free, you know."
"You guys are making fun of me, aren't you?" Keigo said, and all the guys laughed, heading out the same way they came in.
..
..
When Orihime opened the door, she had been more than happy to welcome him — even if he had dropped in unannounced. He'd hoped that the pie he bought for her on the way would be enough to make up for his bad graces, and though she had accepted it gratefully, she had told him it wasn't necessary. She even laughed fondly when Keigo complained that she had turned Ichigo into the worst drinking partner in the world.
("You can always stay with us for dinner if you're lonely, Mr Asano," she had offered, and Ichigo had made it clear with his eyes alone that if Keigo said yes, he'd be on cleaning duty for the rest of the month. The ugly kind. It was no surprise, then, that Keigo had squeaked out a quick 'no thank you!' and booted it out of there)
"Darling, you really should spend more time with your friends," Orihime scolded, sinking into bed with him after dinner, stretching over him to draw the blinds over her window. Ichigo watched the soft curves of her body shift under her nightgown as she drew closer. "If you're going to work all the time, you're not going to have any fond memories to think about when you get older."
If I get older, he thought, then frowned. It was an ugly thought and had no place here, in this space.
"I see him enough," he said instead. "Besides, I didn't want to go back to the house. It gets too quiet at night."
Orihime propped herself up on one elbow, cupping her cheek in her hand as her eyes turned sympathetic. "Are you afraid someone will hurt you?"
Ichigo shook his head. "I can take care of myself. It's just lonely sometimes, is all." He reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "You should come stay there, a few nights a week."
Orihime smiled, looking around her apartment. "It certainly is a luxury compared to this, isn't it?"
The manor was a luxury, but Orihime had done well for herself either way. Her apartment was clean and held itself with an impressive dignity. It felt like a home well-lived-in and well-loved, even if it got cold in winters sometimes, as per her own testimony.
Though Orihime did her best, however, it was still a lonely little apartment kept warm and bright only by her light. The manor, on the other hand, was built to match a mix of her specifications and his — plush rugs, a warm fire, rooms for friends and family to sit in and spend time together, and guest rooms for when friends would stay for days or weeks or even months. It really would have been a lovely house if not for that awful silence and the ringing in his ears when he went there by himself.
Ichigo snapped out of his daze when he noticed her trying to get out of bed. He frowned and threw one arm out, as if to block her. "Where do you think you're going?"
Orihime laughed and pushed his arm away. "Our profit books need going over. It's the end of the month."
Ichigo scowled. "Leave it be. Do it in the morning."
Orihime only laughed harder, cupping his cheek with one fond hand. "You're adorable."
"Am not."
"Are too!"
"Am not." He pinched her bum lightly, making her squeak. "Come back to bed or I'll finish the pie without you."
Orihime gasped. "You're a mighty low scoundrel!"
"Two seconds ago I was your darling, now I'm a scoundrel?"
Orihime pretended to scowl in an uncanny impression of him.
Ichigo ran a hand up her arm, his tone softening considerably. "Come back to bed. Work will still be there in the morning."
"Well, when you say it like that…" Orihime slumped in defeat, her face pink as she smiled and bent down to bestow him with a series of sweet kisses.
Ichigo grinned.
In the morning, he found himself waking up early, one hand gingerly feeling along the bed for her. When he found the opposite side to be vacant, he rose and made a quick visit to the bathroom before venturing out to the hall in search of her.
"Morning," he said when he spotted her at the kitchen table, and sure enough, she was intensely focused on Highwell Hall's profit books, her pencil making little marks against the dog-eared pages. She looked up at his greeting and brightened.
"Good morning!" she cheered. "How did you sleep?"
Ichigo yawned. "Like a baby." He leaned over her shoulder and examined the pages, his brain dully registering the horrendous swarm of numbers and margins scribbled down. It was meticulously maintained, but her math was better than his and he could hardly make sense of anything this early, anyway. "How long have you been up?"
"Just an hour before you got up," she assured him, poking his arm with the blunt end of her pencil.
"And how are the numbers looking?"
Orihime beamed. "Very good! If anything, we have just enough to buy the neighboring plot, but I still have to speak to the realtor about that."
Ichigo nodded.
"I mean, extra space could be very good for us. We could set up those private rooms you wanted, for meetings with important clients. We could set up an extra cellar…possibilities, possibilities." She stood up and kissed his cheek before heading to the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"
Ichigo ran a hand over his stomach and frowned. "Now that you mention it…"
Orihime smiled, drawing out two plates from her cabinets. He noticed that she had already slathered a few slices of thick bread with something, probably waiting for him to wake up so they could eat together.
"What's that?" He drew closer, making a face when he noticed the haphazard arrangement of cheese on something pink, purple and fruit-like. And was that black pepper?
Whatever hunger his stomach had summoned turned into suspicion.
"Figs, ricotta cheese, black pepper, honey and olive oil thrown together to make a lovely and scrumptious toast for two," Orihime announced, looking mighty proud of herself. "I've been so ravenously hungry lately, but only for things that taste fruity."
Ichigo thought it wise not to remark that she was always hungry, since Ikumi had clipped him in the ear rather harshly the one time he made a comment about her appetite. It was hardly his fault. She had become rather picky with her choice of food lately, preferring dishes that were salty, but with a crackle of spice. Or her recent preference — sweet but fruity. It was the whole reason he'd brought her the apple pie after all, but despite her protectiveness over it, she hadn't touched that either. Much like the economy, or God, or that one French film he'd taken her to months prior, he chalked Orihime's pickings up to one of the universe's absurd, unexplainable mysteries.
"Are you sure this is edible?" He poked the toast with the edge of his fingernail.
Orihime rolled her eyes. "You could always walk to the bodega and bring yourself whatever ingredients you like if you want to make your own breakfast! I'll even lend you my kitchen."
"It smells great," Ichigo amended obediently.
As they ate, he couldn't help but marvel at the bizarre taste of her morning toast — sweet in some areas, spicy in others, just like she wanted, but certainly very filling. He took great pains to help himself to more servings whenever her back was turned to him, but he had a feeling she knew anyway, considering the triumphant look on her face every time their eyes met.
For the rest of the day, they lazed on the couch as Orihime read her book and Ichigo pillowed his head on her chest, content to stare up at the ceiling. Orihime took full advantage of Ichigo's laziness to give him a manicure, which admittedly felt good even if he wasn't sure it would bode well in his line of work.
("I'll be the gangster with the smoothest hands in New York City," he'd said, to which she simply laughed and proceeded to kiss each finger after filing them).
As dusk fell over the apartment, Ichigo was in no mood to move at all, even though the day was just beginning for people like them — for people in businesses like theirs. Eventually, Orihime moved him up gently and began clearing the table. "Okay, I should get going."
Ichigo frowned. "Where?"
"To work," Orihime laughed, looking over her bare shoulder at him. "Did you forget about that?"
Ichigo blinked. He was sure he had places to be too — a quick stop down at the auto shop to make sure everything was running smoothly, a quick stop at the boxing rings to make sure all the fighters were oiled, a quick stop at their businesses, just to make sure no one had any quarrels that he hadn't heard about. However, he already had men to do all that. Keigo, Chad, Mizuiro, in that order. Anything legal was already being looked over by Uryu, who would be at the office by now. If there was trouble, there was a hierarchy to follow, and by being at the top, he was usually rarely needed for the little fuck-ups.
"This is a sign," Orihime declared, skipping away as he tried to grab her.
"A sign?" he called, watching her as she retreated into her room.
"For you to take a day off!"
Ichigo's eyebrows narrowed at nothing in particular. "And what about you? You're a manager. You don't have to go in every day either, you know."
"I'll be back in an hour or two," she promised.
He turned to her bedroom and raised his voice. "And what am I supposed to do in your apartment until then?!"
"You don't have to stay here all day. Take a walk if you want." She emerged from her room a few moments later in her blouse and long skirt. Ichigo softened despite himself, standing up so they could be closer together.
"I'll take you somewhere when you come back," he decided, drawing her closer by cupping her face. "You can catch some sleep and then maybe we can go out for breakfast or something."
A small smile touched the corners of her lips as she locked her hands around his waist. "That sounds lovely, but I'd much rather stay at home. My ankles have been so sore lately."
Ichigo frowned. He hadn't noticed that. "Are you sure you don't want to stay at home with me tonight? We could go to the doctor's or something."
Orihime's nose wrinkled at that. "I haven't been to a single doctor in my entire life," she bragged.
Ichigo scoffed and lowered his head to drop a chaste kiss to her lips. "Come on, I'll walk you, then."
They kissed again, and again, and then she relented, happily letting him walk with her to the bus station. Had he brought his car, he would have driven her in himself, but Keigo had dropped him off and effectively stranded him here until someone would come and pick him up in the morning. Ichigo watched Orihime settle onto her seat and blow him a kiss, shaking his head as the bus began to depart its station.
He returned to Orihime's apartment and picked up the book she was reading, sinking back onto the armchair. He was perfectly keen to spend all his hours here until she returned. It was rare for his attention to not be demanded by some matter or the other and he relished it. It lulled him into a sense of peace.
As the hours slipped away, he felt his own eyelids getting heavy sometime during Phileas Fogg's adventurous journey across the Pacific Ocean and towards San Francisco. He would ask Orihime to summarize the rest of the story for him at breakfast. He'd even let her tease him a little in return, for she was heavily endeared by his apparent frowns and scowls as he listened to her meandering narration. However, as dusk swiftly turned into night, turned into midnight, he was fast asleep and all plans had to be set aside for his insistent slumber. He dreamt about vague images from distant lands — places he'd been to on excursions that were far less pleasant than those in Jules Verne's books. Unbeknownst to him, he was twitching in his sleep, a terrible ache pounding in his chest as he remembered the past and feared for the future.
Someone was at the door.
Ichigo woke with a sharp gasp, recognizing the knock patterns instantly. Three short taps, three long ones, and then three short ones again, the old army code for an emergency. Right then, he didn't know if he was a soldier or a man — all he knew was that his body was awake and ready for action.
He leapt to his feet and groped around the table for his gun—and though he had expected trouble, he was still surprised when he opened the door to a grim-faced Uryu.
"Something's happening at the bar," Uryu reported. "I think Miss Inoue is in trouble."
..
..
Three hours ago
Orihime had not told Ichigo out of fear that he would overreact, but a persistent headache had been bothering her on and off all day. She was eager to return home, and if the headache endured, she was sure she would have to seek Ichigo's advice and consult a doctor. Really, all she wanted was to curl up beside him and sleep, the way they had all day, and the thought of him waiting for her revived her a little as she wearily went about her duties.
She was just about tucking the profit books into one of the upper floors' cabinets when she caught a flash of blue out of the corner of her eye. Most of the day's customers had already left since it was a weekday. The only people remaining were those with business to discuss, and they did so quietly, their voices reaching no more than a mutter as they spoke over drinks. Perhaps it was for this reason that Orihime noticed it instantly.
Six men had entered the bar, led by a man with bright blue hair and a sharp, cutting smile. It was hard not to recognize him. Only months ago had his mugshot been splashed across newspapers that Commissioner Kuchiki had brought to this very bar. Orihime's blood went cold, and for a moment, she was tense with shock as she watched the men approach the bar. Their eyes were searching, and their holsters looked heavy under their clothes.
Had they shot the bouncer?
The thought jolted Orihime awake. No, that certainly wasn't possible. Their doors were reinforced. She would have heard the gunshots. It was a weekday, their music wasn't even loud.
Besides, it was too late to wonder how they had gotten in. The only thing that mattered was that they had. Orihime couldn't tell what the men wanted, but she had a gut feeling that any and every associate of Ichigo's would be in danger if she didn't act.
She slammed the cabinets shut and began moving with an alacrity that surprised her. She approached each table and calmly informed them that there were intruders, and they were to move quietly towards the fire exits without raising any alarm. Whispers spread like rapid fire, and people began to move. Some of them noticed Grimmjow and fled in an instant, taking great care to snap their briefcases shut without any fanfare. Others volunteered to stay with her or escort her out, but she firmly told them no, and that they were to leave as soon as they could. A manager could not afford to act out of cowardice, even though she was sure she looked as sickly and pale as she felt on the inside. Her headache had not gone away.
As the word 'Sosuke Aizen' went around, people hurried, and soon, the entire floor was clear as the fire exit door swung shut for the last time. However, a sudden crash downstairs spiked her heart rate just as it had settled.
"—now!" she heard someone demand harshly, to which the bar girls whimpered.
Orihime abandoned her post upstairs and flew down, taking two stairs at a time so she could rush to her girls. The sight that greeted her was awful. All six men had their guns pointed towards Michiru, Ryo and the other four. The girls themselves were trembling—some of them were swallowing down cries out of fear that any movement would trigger a gunshot, but their soft, scared hiccups were audible.
When Orihime's footsteps hit the ground, two guns swerved in her direction while the rest stayed put.
"There you are," said Grimmjow Jagerjaques, as if they were old acquaintances. "I was wondering when you'd stop corralling the little sheep out of here and come down." His grin was menacing. "We might look like a pack of wolves, but we don't bite, do we, boys?"
His crew cackled and thrust their heads out playfully towards the girls as if to bite them. Michiru whimpered and said something that sounded an awful lot like "please."
Orihime took a deep breath to numb down her panic to a reasonable level. "How did you get in?"
"How did we get in?" Grimmjow demanded incredulously. "Why, with the password!"
The other men laughed as Orihime's eyes widened. Still, she tried to hold onto her composure. There was no way one of their own could have betrayed them, so it was possible Grimmjow was just joking — just trying to get under her skin.
"Of course," she said softly, and tried to smile at Grimmjow. Over his shoulder, she could see the girls clutching onto each other, their faces red and sweaty as they cowered. She directed her gaze back to Grimmjow. "How can we help you, Mr Jaegerjaques?"
"Mr Jaegerjacques, huh? What kind of high-bred Victorian shithole did he pull you out of?"
Orihime did not retort that she was just as lowborn as Ichigo was, for she recognized he was only trying to provoke her. If this was an attack on their premises, then he would not have bothered with introductions. He certainly hadn't done so with the distillery. She tilted her chin up bravely and tried to meet his gaze.
"There's no need for any blood, Mr Jaegerjacques." She wondered if he could sense the way her voice trembled. "Just tell us what you want."
Grimmjow's grin widened. "Aren't you a sweetheart?" He abandoned his position and approached her, bulking over her as their eyes met. "Alright then. I need a favor from you."
Orihime said nothing but continued to look at him in askance.
"I need you to call your boyfriend here so I can kill him. How does that sound?"
Orihime's eyes flew up in alarm. "W-what?"
Up close, Grimmjow's grin was cruel. He had a sharp, handsome face, but his sadistic disposition turned him into something gruesome and terrible up close.
"You heard me."
For a minute, no one spoke. The men were still holding their guns up. If Orihime moved to attack Grimmjow, she was sure she would be dead before her body hit the ground. There could be no negotiations between a wolf and a sheep — as Grimmjow so eloquently put it. But Orihime had never been one to give up.
"No," she said feebly.
"What was that?" Grimmjow growled, his eyes narrowing.
She spoke up. "No."
Grimmjow's hand was on her throat in an instant, his fingers rough and punishing as they dug into her skin. Her breath left her in an instant, lungs squeezing with a terrible ache. The pain was suffocating. The girls shrieked. A few called her by name. Orihime pushed at his wrist as if to stop him, but truthfully she felt faint. She could not, under any circumstances, give Ichigo up. But Grimmjow was too powerful, and all his men had guns.
"If I call him here, you're going to kill him," she wheezed, tears welling up in her eyes as he loosened his grip.
"That's kind of the idea," Grimmjow retorted, and a rare streak of protective anger coursed through her entire being.
"No," she repeated, and this time she was firm about that. "You can hurt me if you want, but I won't let you get to him."
"Really?" Grimmjow said, as though sizing her up. Orihime looked back at him in utter defiance because he could make her feel less powerful but in no way could he make her feel small.
Then, he said, "That's a damn shame," and looked over his shoulder. "Di Roy!" he called out, then looked back at Orihime with a small smirk.
Orihime watched—almost as if in slow motion—as one of the men lifted his gun to Michiru's face. Orihime screamed, but she could not hear her own scream over the cries of everyone else. At the very last minute, the man shot the wall instead, making Michiru flinch and sink to the ground.
"No!" Orihime flung herself in front of Di Roy with both arms thrown out as if to protect Michiru. "No, please!" Tears streamed down her cheeks as she felt her heart squeeze. Michiru, in her terror, was now wailing. Orihime glanced over her shoulder and saw all her girls holding onto her, pale-faced and wide-eyed as they looked to her for answers.
"Please," she repeated desperately. "Not the girls. They just work here."
"Get me Kurosaki," Grimmjow said.
"I can't—"
"Get. Me. Kurosaki." Grimmjow grounded out. "Or the next shot is really going into her skull."
Michiru sobbed harder.
"Orihime, please!" Ryo shouted. "Just give him up, for God's sake!"
Orihime stared at her in disbelief, betrayed.
Ryo would not meet her eyes, however. It was evident that some of the girls thought they would be spared if they gave Ichigo up. Orihime wasn't so sure. She hadn't known these men to be entirely rational, and she refused to choose between Ichigo's life or the lives of the girls. All she had was a single second to make a decision — and God help her if she made the wrong one.
"Fine," she said with a heavy heart, then said it again. "Fine. I'll—I'll call him, but only on one condition."
Grimmjow sneered. "I don't think you're in the position to be making a bargain here, sweetheart."
Orihime shook her head as if to shake off her nerves. "Let the girls go," she told him as firmly as she could, "and then I will call him. I promise."
"And give them the freedom to call the police?" one of the men demanded. "I don't think s—"
"Shut up, Di Roy," Grimmjow said, but his eyes were on Orihime. It was as though he could sense that she would keep her word, even if he couldn't figure out her motives. Orihime nodded ever-so-slightly as if to confirm his suspicions, her stomach swelling in the worst kind of anxiety.
"Fine. Let the girls go," he said finally, and Orihime breathed a sigh of relief.
"Orihime, no, he'll kill you," Ryo said, trying to wring Orihime's elbow in her grip.
Orihime didn't think he would. At least, not before he would kill Ichigo. He needed her alive and she had to play that one card—the one very card she held. "Just go, Ryo," she said softly, trying to push some warmth into her smile. "Take Michiru to the hospital if she needs it. And don't call the police, okay? I mean it."
Michiru stood up on weak legs and protested, "But what about you?"
"I'll be fine," Orihime promised, continuing to smile. "Just go." She turned to Grimmjow. "Please. Give me your word that no harm will come to them."
"Cross my heart and hope to die," Grimmjow said, saccharine sweet, and then nodded at one of his men to escort the girls out.
Orihime swallowed, tensed, as she watched the girls leave the bar and shoot her furtive looks on their way out. All she could hope was that she wasn't being an idiot in isolating herself further. And that the girls would not endanger her or Ichigo by calling the police.
When the man came back in, he nodded at Grimmjow and then Grimmjow looked at her.
"Come on. It's your turn to keep up your end of the deal."
Orihime nodded, letting her feet carry her to the telephone they kept at the bar. The dizziness from earlier muddled her senses, but she did her best to keep a firm grip on the handle as she picked it up. After all, a part of her was relieved that the civilians were out of danger, and she tried her best to hold on to that feeble optimism.
"Hurry up!" Grimmjow barked. "And no funny business. You warn him, and I really will kill you."
Orihime's fingers trembled as she spun the little dial around to the best of her memory. She hadn't ever thought she would need to know this number by-heart, but she had memorized it all the same after the commissioner's first visit, upon Ichigo's encouragement. In the event of an emergency, he hadn't wanted her to be alone.
Yet, as the phone rang and rang, she couldn't help but feel lines of anxious sweat trickle down her palms.
Suddenly, the line cleared, and the telltale click told her someone had picked up the call on the other end.
"Kurosaki office," said Uryu Ishida, and Orihime's heart leapt with both relief and trepidation.
"Hi sweetheart," Orihime said, trying to force some sweetness into her tone as if she were speaking to Ichigo. When she looked over her shoulder, all the men were watching her alertly. "Were you busy?"
"Erm. Miss Inoue, I think you've dialed the office, not Ichigo's personal line."
Orihime's smile strained, but she continued speaking, "I guess I just wanted to check in and see how you are. I missed you today."
Grimmjow tapped his watch as if to hurry her along. Orihime bit her lip and turned back to the phone.
"Miss Inoue? Can you not hear me?"
"Oh, you are too scandalous," she giggled, hoping she was doing a convincing job for Grimmjow but a bad job for Uryu, hoping against hope that the lawyer would pick up the signs from her odd conversation. "Why don't you come down here and tell me yourself? I'll be waiting for you!"
Uryu paused. "Something is the matter, isn't it? What's going—"
"Highwell Hall, where I always am," she answered, before a rush of agony came over her and she said, "Oh Ichigo, please hurry. I really can't take this anymore." How ironic, she thought. Of all the things she said, this was the only truth.
"...I'll do my best to help you, Miss Inoue. Can you keep me on the line a little longer?"
Orihime didn't think she could. "Just hurry, okay?" she said softly. "I love you." If those were her last words, the least she wanted was for them to be relayed back to Ichigo. She slammed the phone down.
Grimmjow's eyes narrowed. Then, he cooed. "Aren't you two sweet?"
Orihime said nothing, her lip nearly bruised from how much she was biting it.
"Now I'm going to ask you for another favor." Grimmjow nodded towards the bar. "Why don't you go on and pour me a drink?" He grinned. "I'm going to need something to savor after I send him to his maker."