#scribblesfanfics

But sometimes, just sometimes, it was a menos-sized pain in the neck. Take right now, for instance. He was in this posh restaurant sitting in his designer clothes across from his dazzling girlfriend of one year. Exactly one year to the day, hence the fancy food and clothes he had worked his ass off for.

For just the tiniest fraction of a second he considered granting a Hollow Holiday where they’re free to wreak havoc as they please so he was free to do as he pleased. This day was important because of what he’d been through, what they’d been through, to get to this point. As many times as their lives had been risked and saved combined with as many times as he’d started and stalled before finally asking her out, he felt more than a little grateful to be celebrating this milestone with Inoue Orihime.

Inoue Orihime who was carefully putting her fork down and wiping her mouth, eyes darting all around the restaurant while trying, and completely failing, to not act suspicious. She caught his eye and made jerky head and eye motions towards the back of the restaurant. Ichigo dropped his knife and fork with a clatter and a heavy sigh. She shushed him with flapping hands before quickly composing herself and stiffly getting out of her chair and then frowning and tugging on her skirt when it caught on the wooden arm.

One major difference between the comic book superheroes and Kurosaki Ichigo, was that his love interest was also a superhero. And that woman didn’t let anything get in the way of protecting her neighborhood.

With another heavy sigh, Ichigo got up and followed her dramatic, not-at-all-blasé movements past the bathroom doors, the kitchen door, and to the door marked exit. She pushed on the metal crash bar, and the cold, garbage-tinged air hit Ichigo in the face. With one last longing glance back at the delicious food and plush seats, he followed Orihime out into a particularly dark part of the alley next to the dumpster where she pointed.

He gave her a look that clearly stated his displeasure at being dumped next to a dumpster, but complied after she insistently pointed, looking down the alley when they felt another, stronger pulse. That familiar pulse finally spurned him into action and as soon as his bottom hit the ground, Ichigo the Shinigami was dashing down the alley, his girlfriend following closely behind.

They stopped to make sure no one was around, and then he lifted her into his arms and took off into the air, bounding from one rooftop to another. She didn’t even seem to notice him as she stared intently into the night sky towards the direction where they had felt the hollow. This was a common practice for them, and they had grown into quite the team over the years. His frustration at being interrupted while with Orihime (and he swore that most of the time these hollows cropped up it was while he was with Orihime) was tempered by the fact that not only was it pretty cool fighting by his girlfriend, his time spent fighting a hollow was a fraction what it was when he was by himself. Especially when there were multiple hollows together. A phenomenon which had been happening more and more often lately… almost like they were teaming up.

Something else in the works with another big baddie, most likely.

Orihime saw it first and pointed. Ichigo blinked and squinted. It was huge, which wasn’t unusual, but it looked exactly like a Pac-Man ghost, which was very unusual. He sneered at the hollow as it bobbed and weaved, letting out roars from somewhere within its black from. Perfect. His romantic plans were interrupted by an ancient video game character. Figures that–

A flash of yellow whizzed in front of him, and before he could blink, his girlfriend was out of his arms and gliding on her yellow shield towards the hollow.

“I got it!” she yelled, waving a hand without looking, her calf-length skirt billowing in the wind.

Ichigo huffed and crossed his arms, watching her head straight for the hollow. She yelled something else that he didn’t catch because she was too far off—she’d really gotten the hang of that thing’s speed—but it sounded like she said something about “cute.” He rolled his eyes. Only Orihime would think a giant monster she was about to attack was cute.

He lazily bounded after her in the sky, just in case, but she was right—its spiritual pressure was pretty low, and two people would just be overkill. By the time he reached her side, Tsubaki was flashing back into the hairpin that she’d pinned to the strap on her dress and the night was quiet again.

“You know,” he said. “I could have just let you go after the thing by yourself and stayed at the restaurant eating the food before it got cold.”

Orihime twirled her skirt and grinned. “Oh, but it’s so much faster with you taking me,” she said, and held out her arms to be lifted again.

Ichigo felt his lips twitch before setting them back in a frim line. He grumbled about being nothing but a transport service as he picked her up, secretly thrilling at the feel of her body pressed up against his and her arms wrapped tight around his neck.

It reminded him of the other plan he’d had for tonight. An important question he needed to ask her. His chest clenched and twisted, and his arms unknowingly tightened around her as they made their way back to the restaurant. She looked at him quizzically, and he distracted her by giving her a quick kiss on the nose. Orihime smiled, tightened her hold around his neck to bring her face closer, and planted a firm kiss on his cheek.

The exchange was so innocent it was almost comical, but it didn’t stop Ichigo’s neck from turning red or his heart from racing. She pressed her head to his shoulder, close to his neck, and he could feel her puffs of breath against his hot skin. At this point, it was a concentrated effort to keep from dropping to the ground. By the time they reached the alley to retrieve his body, he was tempted to skip the restaurant altogether and go straight to—

“I-Ichigo! Wait!” Orihime fervently whispered, slapping his chest. “Look!”

He stopped above the alley, looked down, and groaned. His body was still there, but it had gotten gawkers. Three of what looked like the kitchen staff surrounded his body with unlit cigarettes hanging from their mouths and fingers. One was gesturing at the body, another pushed a guy towards it, and the word “pulse” floated up to them.

“Oh dear,” Orihime said.

“You got any of those memory-erasing duck things from Rukia?”

“…in my purse in the restaurant.”

They watched the staff arguing for a few seconds. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had this happen before, it was just the situations were usually a little easier to explain than why he was slumped next to dumpster behind a restaurant where he’d been having a nice dinner with his girlfriend.

Orihime slapped his chest again. “I got it!” she said for the second time that night. “Drop me off just around the corner from the alley, and you come into your body a bit later. You’ll know when to wake up.”

“Orihime—”

“Hurry! Before they call the police or something!”

She had a point. Well, whatever she had planned, the worst they could do was not let them back in the restaurant. Ichigo thought sadly of his cold, stiffening pasta as he sat her on the ground, carefully making sure no one saw a woman floating to the ground. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she took off down the alley. Ichigo had to scramble to keep up with her.

“Hellooo!” she called, startling the trio hovering around his body. “Sorry to bother you, but you haven’t by any chance seen my boyfriend come back here? He has orange, spiky hair?”

They looked at each other, and then pointed at a spot on the other side of the dumpster. Orihime changed her face into one of horrified concern and ran over to the spot.

“Oh no, my poor, poor Ichigo!” she cried, falling to a squat next to him.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. Overplaying it just a tad, in his opinion.

One of the staff cleared his throat. “Ma’am, we just found him. We’re not sure if he’s…if he’s dead or—”

“Oh!” She interrupted, turning back to them and shaking her head. “Oh no, he’s not dead. He’s narcoleptic.”

Ichigo and the kitchen staff blinked.

“Narco…” one of them started.

“Leptic,” she finished with a longsuffering sigh. “He’ll just fall asleep anywhere, anytime, at the drop of a hat.” Orihime turned back to her slumped boyfriend. Ichigo didn’t like how close his head and come to resting on the side of the filthy dumpster. “He came out for a smoke while I went to the bathroom, and he must have dropped to sleep before he even got a chance to take a puff, poor baby.”

She turned back to him and gently shook his shoulder. “Ichigo, time to wake up now.”

Taking his cue, Ichigo stepped back into his body, and “woke” with a jerk. His nose wrinkled at the smell and shivered at how cold his body had gotten in their absence.

“O-Orihime? Did…Did it happen again?” he said, blinking at her in fake confusion.

She fussed over him and helped him to his feet, thanking the dazed staff for being such a great help, and led him back through the door into the warm restaurant.

Ichigo let out a breath of relief, and another shiver went through his body. Orihime turned to him with concern.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a little cold.”

Orihime frowned at him, and he barely had time to register how cute she was when she frowned, when she started vigorously rubbing his arms with her hands.

“Uh…”

“We’ll get you warm in no time!”

“Really, I’m fi—oof!”

He was interrupted when she suddenly pounced him with a big bear hug, pressing every inch of her front against his. Her scent filled his nose as he turned his face into her hair, and her body warmed every place it touched, including an area that was having a rapid and embarrassing response. He definitely wasn’t cold any more, but his arms tightened around her anyway

Suddenly, with an unwanted, unwarranted jolt, he wanted to ask that question. Right now. The urge was so strong it almost popped out of his mouth in the same jolted second.

But no, there was no way he could ask it now. Look at where they were! He was not asking her in the hallway of a restaurant between the bathrooms and the kitchen with the sound of banging plates and clattering silverware as background music. Absolutely not. If a toilet flushed while he was asking her, he would die.

His heart didn’t seem to be listening to logic. It didn’t want to wait for his plan to ask during dessert on her balcony under the moon. It wanted to ask her now, this amazing woman, his friend and partner in crime. It didn’t want to wait any longer to ensure he had her in his life forever, fighting off hollows and concocting stories for curious bystanders with her heart-busting combination of goofiness and heroism.

This wasn’t happening. He wasn’t pulling back slightly to look her in the eyes. He couldn’t be doing this now.

Ichigo opened his mouth, rubbed his thumbs where they rested on her waist, and asked the question that would seal their fates for the rest of their lives.

Ichigo woke with a start to something pressing and scraping at the center of his bare chest. He blinked hard several times to chase away the sleep and orient himself to the present, coming up short when cracked murmurs and a sob came from somewhere above him. His arm wildly flew to the side table and his fingers fumbled until light finally flooded the room. He looked up, and his heart lurched.

“Inoue?”

For several long seconds, he could only stare at the girl straddled above him with her hands pressed over his heart, her frantic nails leaving long pink marks on his skin; her cheeks glistened in the lamplight as she muttered unintelligible words. Gently, he put one hand over hers and curved the other around her arm.

“Inoue, wake—”

“—hole. Can’t close it. It won’t close…” Her face twisted as she became more frenzied.

Her words slammed into his chest, and his hands tightened.

“Powers… not working… the hole… everything’s broken… so broken…”

Ichigo sat up, grasped her shoulders, and gave her a few gentle shakes. “Inoue! Wake up!”

Finally, her eyes blinked into awareness, the panic still there, but she was looking at him instead of through him.

“I—” A desperate sob broke out as she searched his face. “You were… You were…”

His hand returned to hers and he pressed it to his chest where his heart lay twisted in knots. “I’m fine, Inoue. You feel that?” He reached up and brushed away the tears still slipping out. “I’m fine.”

She gulped in several shuddering breaths as she stared at their hands. He felt her finger tap out a light rhythm, following the beats of his heart.

When her breathing, and his, stabilized and the tears stopped and her finger stopped tapping, her eyes lifted. “I’m sor—”

His mouth closed over hers to stop the apology in its tracks. When he pulled away, just enough so her face wasn’t a blur, he said, “Riruka told me what you said.”

Confusion filled her eyes as she stared at him. “What?”

“What you said about… about not ever letting me get irreparably hurt again. That no matter how hopelessly broken I got, you’d heal it all.” He let one corner of his mouth lift a little. “And then she said something like ‘for someone who oozes the sweet and innocent act, she sure get’s her panties twisted in a hurry’.”

Orihime hiccuped.

“I believe you, you know,” he said as he scowled at her and ran his fingers along her stressed eyebrows. “I’ve watched you again and again, no matter how hopeless it looks, you get like a crazy woman trying to put the pieces back together.” It’s not healthy, he thinks. She shouldn’t shoulder a burden like that. But then, pot kettle and therefore peas in a pod, he supposed. Maybe they were a couple of enabling peas, but who else would understand their need to do this? That it kept them sane and functional. That fighting demons was better than knowing the demons were there and being powerless to do anything about them. “And you always do it with that helpful fucking smile like you just did something as simple as a putting a band-aid on a scraped knee. You always have my back—you have all our backs. Right?”

She only nodded, but he relaxed when he saw the familiar steel in her eyes and the slight squaring in her shoulders. He ran his hands up and down her arms, pausing to push the strap of her top back up her shoulder, and pressed a firm kiss to her forehead. That desperation to protect and that clawing fear that you might fail—he was all too familiar with that particular stew of emotions. But in his reckless determination to protect his friends, he tended to forget about what pain he caused them; that the rage and pain and terror of seeing them in pools of their own blood would be how they felt whenever he lay on the ground hurt, dying, or dead.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but closed it because he knew she would never accept it just as he wouldn’t accept hers. So instead he tugged her back down to lay next to him swearing to himself to always be there to chase her nightmares away. For being so selfish as to keep her near his person, the literal walking magnet for war and grief, it was the least he could do. His arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders as she snuggled close. Her hand never left the spot on his chest, her fingers splayed protectively over his heart long after her breathing evened out.

Orihime was on her side when she woke up to low murmurs, and she looked behind her to see Ichigo talking in his sleep, deep crinkles marring his forehead. She watched him for a moment before facing forward, listening and wondering what he was saying. It didn’t seem like it was a good dream, so she began to shift her body to where she could gently wake him up; but as soon as she bunched her muscles to move, the arm around her waist tightened so hard and fast she gasped aloud.

“Ichi—”

“Don’t go.”

She froze at the broken and hoarse plea in her ear.

Tentatively, she tried to answer. “I’m not going anywhere, Ichigo. I’m just—”

When she tried to move again, his arm tightened almost painfully. “…disappear. Don’t disappear… again…”

Her heart cracked, the desperation in his voice sending tears to her eyes. She ran her fingers down his forearm and over knuckles that were nearly white from gripping her side. He would feel guilty for the bruises that would be there, but she wished he wouldn’t.

“I won’t disappear,” she reassured. “Not ever again.”

His breathing was hard and rushed against her neck; his chest shuddered against her back.

“Won’t… let you… this…” His voice got louder with every word.

She bit her lip and tried to turn towards him, but he had her gripped so closely against him she couldn’t budge. “Ichigo, wake up. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Inoue… don’t…”

With her fingers nestled against the tight grooves between his fingers, she shut her eyes and tried again. “Kurosaki-kun, please.”

She felt as much as heard him gasp awake, and the building torrent behind her crashed into a sharp stillness. As soon as his grip loosened, she rolled onto her back and laced her fingers through the slightly relaxed hand still at her side.

In the dim moonlight, she could make out the stressed angles of his face and the moisture just beginning to form on his forehead. Her fingers reached up and stroked down the contours of his cheek; he mirrored the gesture with shaking fingers before releasing his breath in a sigh.

“You’re here,” he said as he continued to trace his hand down her neck, his thumb resting at the base of her throat.

She nodded. “I’m here.”

“That’s… good.”

He nodded to himself a couple of times as he stroked her skin with his thumb, pausing when she swallowed. She watched the shutters begin to close over his face, but before he could shrug it all off as nothing, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close, saying nothing as he stiffened before relenting and resting his ear over her heart.

Orihime ran soothing fingers through his hair, glad that it wasn’t one of his more monstrous nightmares this time. Nightmares that no one should have, not when they’re more reality than fantasy.

It takes more than words and gentle touches to bring him back from cages trapped in darkness where thousands of voices call out his name, begging him, accusing him, to save them, save them, save them. With those, he cries out in his sleep that he can’t—that he can’t get to them, but the voices will get more desperate, more scathing, more judging, until there are no voices at all and he’s alone in his void, in his cage, with his crushing guilt and impotence.

She can only hold onto him, when those nightmares come, and talk in his ear and try to make herself heard over the cacophony in his head, until he finally wakes up, shaking in her arms and pressing wet cheeks into the crook of her neck.

Orihime has to hold in a rare feeling of rage, protective rage, when she’s holding her trembling hero. Rage at worlds, allies and enemies alike, that would take advantage of his power and the giving heart that burns to protect far more people than he should. But she’ll never tell him and only close her eyes and close her arms and channel her anger into protecting him in every way. Even when the rest of the world runs to him with entitled expectation the next time it’s crumbling at its foundations because of the centuries late consequences of foolish choices borne from the hubris of men and demons.

She’ll kiss his forehead and breathe in and out, silently promising them both that they’ll build better worlds, until the glow from her humming hairpins dies down and it’s dark again and he’s fast asleep, clutching her like he’s drowning and she’s his life raft.

smut

“All right,” Tatsuki said, setting down her soda. “I know I’m going to hate myself for asking this, but I’m too curious.”

Orihime sipped her cold tea and waited.

“How is, uh… how’s Ichigo in the sack?”

Orihime’s cheeks flushed hot at the sudden question, and her eyes drifted to the side as she thought about it. It was, simply put, amazing. Even in the beginning when it was all awkward touches and fumbling legs and nervous laughing, it was amazing because it was him and because she was in love. And it just kept getting more… Orihime sighed. She had been sure that they would quickly calm down to something like a sizzle, but the opposite was happening.

Whenever he touched her, she felt like someone lit a thousand matches under her skin. Whenever he kissed her, she felt like she would never need or want to breathe air again. Whenever he was inside of her, she felt like wrapping her arms and legs around him and never letting go.

“In the sack”? He was all consuming and irreplaceable. As passionate and focused in… that as he was in anything he cared about. More so, even. She had seen him lose himself in battle many times, but when he lost himself with her it was… She sighed again.

And, oh… her mind wandered to last night, just a few hours ago, when his hands had felt along her form and his mouth had softly burned a trail down the middle of her torso. He had only paused once, with a kiss just below her belly button, and looked up at her, his eyes so intense she was sure she would spontaneously combust on the spot. And then he had kept going down and down and that—that had been something else entirely.

A low whistle ripped Orihime out of her reverie. Tatsuki leaned back in her chair and smirked. “Never mind, stop sighing. I don’t need the details. I think I get the general idea from your face alone.” She snorted at Orihime’s red face and shy but happy smile. “Since he’s managed to bumble his way into putting an expression like that on my best friend’s face, I suppose I should let him win a spar once in a while.”

ust

(a/n: uh ok, an improbable situation here, so suspend yourselves. but I had a need to write them stuck in a closed space together... idk. wrote this when Ichigo and team were still falling, so this is if they had landed near Urahara and team.)

“It will just be for a while, Kurosaki-san. We need our heroes safe!” Urahara sang as he pushed Ichigo towards a large locker in his makeshift science lab… thingy.

“Uraha—damn it, quit shovin—oof!”

Ichigo tried to push off the hard wall he had landed against, but fell back again when something warm and soft was shoved against the front of his body.

“Inoue!”

She gave a couple of small grunts as she tried to right herself. “Kurosaki-kun, I—”

“We’ll be back to retrieve you in a while,” Urahara said to them with a grin.

Mayuri stood behind him, peering inside at the two squished teenagers with disdain and disinterest. “Can we get back to it, then?”

“Yes, yes, you boring thing you.”

With that, the steel locker was shut with a bang. Ichigo looked to the side and noticed the line of air holes going ceiling to floor and allowing light to dimly illuminate the small space. He frowned at that. What exactly did Urahara plan on keeping in here anyway?

The girl in front of him—or rather melded to him—was grunting again, and he grasped her arms to help her straighten up as he moved back. Rather, he would have moved back, except there was no room to move. His back was flat against the wall, and as he had discovered when he held her arms, her back was to her side of the locker as well.

Huh.

“Cozy, huh?” Orihime said cheerfully.

Ichigo swallowed and froze his body to keep it from shifting against her curves. “Uh…”

For the second time that day, he didn’t know whether to kiss or kill Urahara. First it had been that… that outfit of Orihime’s. His eyes moved down before he could stop them and he silently cursed. That was a view that was not going to help his encroaching problem in any way.

The scientists were putting their heads together with a chair-bound Aizen—which was definitely disturbing, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should get between the mad men and prevent a robot apocalypse—trying to figure out how to solve the latest Soul Society disaster; a disaster caused by Ichigo, as Mayuri and Aizen condescendingly pointed out several times. Apparently, it was going to get a bit wild and, claiming he couldn’t watch all these children at once, Urahara had shoved the non-science people into various hiding places around the lab.

Byakuya’s noble hair decorations had definitely stiffened at being called a child. And Ichigo was fairly certain he had been shoved into a closet with Kenpachi. That should end well.

So, there could be worse people to be shoved into a locker with. He frowned in concentration when she moved against him again. He could really feel every single curve. This would be really awkward if they hadn’t already been dating.

She squeaked and grabbed his waist.

Ichigo gulped. Or just as awkward.

“Are you okay, Kurosaki-kun?”

He nodded stiffly, staring at the steel wall.

She was silent for a moment before a gentle hand touched his chest. “It really wasn’t your fault, you know. We’ll get through this, like we always do.”

Ichigo blinked and felt a stab of guilt. The current chaos had been pushed to the farthest burner in his mind. He knew he should be brooding and wallowing in self-loathing, part of him was, but at the moment his brain insisted on being completely focused on the girl pressed against him.

He gave her a stiff smile and a nod and continued to stare at the very boring wall. She was watching him, and as he was trying to find a topic of conversation to distract him, when she pushed up on her toes and kissed his chin. His heart jumped and the rest of his body jumped with it making her giggle.

Suddenly, a loud explosion sounded from the other side and seconds later the walls of the locker rattled. Ichigo squeezed her arms, and she grabbed his waist again.

“Imbecile!” Mayuri screeched.

“Not to worry, everything’s fine, we’re all fine here!” Urahara shouted.

Ichigo raised his eyebrows at the string of curses from what sounded like the usually unflappable Aizen.

“Well,” Urahara continued. “Except for Aizen here, but honestly, who cares about him?”

“It sounds like they’re going to be a while,” Orihime said.

Ichigo grunted in agreement and placed his hands on the wall behind her head.

“So, what do you want to do?” she asked.

His gaze flickered down to her eager brown eyes and then back up to the safety of the wall, trying not to think about the only things they really could do besides have a perfectly innocent conversation. “Uh, not much to do in a locker, Inoue.”

She snorted. “You lack imagination, Kurosaki-kun.”

No. He really, really didn’t. And he really, really wish he did.

Her hands moved from his waist to his chest sending shivers up his spine. She tugged at the cloth until he was forced to bend his head towards her.

“Inoue, what—”

Soft, warm, familiar lips pressed against his, and his eyes widened as his body stiffened. She smiled against his lips, and he blushed, lamenting the fact that he always acted like this. If it weren’t for her surprising initiative, they wouldn’t have even been at the holding hands stage yet. He had reassured her long ago that it wasn’t because he didn’t want to do these things, but because he was just nervous. She had cocked her head in that way she did when she knew he was hiding something, but she just smiled and accepted it.

Her lips moved, gently urging him, and, as he always did, he melted and surrendered to her as her hands slid up to his shoulders. She let out a little happy hum as his mouth matched her movements, and he concentrated on being as gentle as possible as his heart pounded in his ears.

He hadn’t lied about being nervous, but it wasn’t nerves that made him hesitant. It was how much she made him feel. Her fingers would entwine with his and he could feel it down to his toes. She kissed him and his body felt like it would lose control any second. She touched him, just simple touches like her hands on his shoulders, and it was like electricity was shooting from her fingertips. It was overwhelming and he didn’t know what to do with it, worried that he’d scare her with the intensity of his feelings when it came to her. Hell, he scared himself.

Her mouth opened underneath his and Ichigo groaned in another moment of defeat when the tip  of her tongue felt along his bottom lip. His frustrated fingers gripped at nothing against the wall behind her. Touching her was out of the question. His hands had minds of their own when it came to her, traveling to places where he never gave them permission to go. And somehow he doubted he could count on her to stop him.

She deepened the kiss and slid her hands into his hair, wrenching an embarrassing whimper from his throat. It didn’t seem possible, but somehow she pressed even closer against him. Her thigh moved against his and his hands were fists against the steel wall, struggling to keep his hips away from hers. Somehow he was managing, somehow he had always managed to hide that particular problem from her.

Gods knew what she would think of him if he was like this from just a few kisses. Only the gods knew that sometimes she would just look at him a certain way or smile or flip her hair and he would be shifting and maneuvering and reciting the times table and cursing his predilection for tight clothes.

And then, just like that, all the weeks and weeks of careful maneuvering crumbled when her hips pulsed into his, and she gasped against his mouth. Ichigo screwed his eyes shut and held back a groan of embarrassment. It was all over. She would never want to touch or even look at him again. She was the one worried about seeming like a pervert earlier, but nobody warned her that she was actually dating a complete pervert. She would—

Another gasp sounded in the quiet locker, but it was from Ichigo this time when her hips curiously met his again. He opened his eyes and looked down at her; her face was bright red, but her pupils were so big he could barely make out the brown anymore.

“I-Inoue, I…” What was he supposed to say?

“Kurosaki-kun, I’m going to hop up and you catch me, okay?”

What? “What?”

“Alley-oop,” she said, and hopped up as best she could, being trapped between a body and a door, and wrapped her legs around his waist; on instinct his hands left the safety of the cold steel and grabbed on to keep her from falling.

“There,” she said, her breath hitting his cheek now that they were eye-level with each other. “That’s better.”

It took a few seconds for him to realize that his hands were full of—he gulped—something very soft. Her thighs pressed against the sides of his waist, and from the pressure she seemed to be urging him even closer.

“This is a bad idea,” he said even as he allowed her to pull him in.

“You worry too much, Kurosaki-kun,” she said and kissed him again.

He moaned when he inadvertently rubbed against the inside of her thigh, and she held him even tighter, her kisses becoming more urgent as his hands refused to stay still. Such a bad idea. A terrible idea. Her thigh moved against him and with a groan he tore away from her mouth, his breathing out of control.

“Inoue, I can’t… I can’t…” He looked down at her face and his breath hitched at her dazed, needy gaze. Her lips pursed to form his name, questioning him, but he couldn’t remember what had made him leave that mouth in the first place and quickly leaned in again.

Her hands roamed down his back as his lips moved to trace her jawline, down her neck, nudging her high collar out of the way. Her smell, her taste, her harsh breathing, her little noises all filled the tiny locker and threatened to completely overwhelm him, and he was tempted to let it. They could stay here, and he could forget everything. It was so easy to lose himself in her and think about nothing except the way she felt, the way she made him feel, and how if he moved his hips just a little he’d—

The door to the locker was suddenly ripped open, making him stumble as he tried to regain his balance and still hold on to the girl in his arms. His shocked glare landed on the equally shocked Urahara. With a slow, sly grin and a cough, he closed the door again, and cheerily called out, “We’re almost finished, ladies and gentleman, just about five minutes to… collect yourselves.”

Gingerly, Orihime straightened her legs, and he let her down, unable to hold back a groan as she slid down. His hands safely went to her waist—her bare waist, so maybe not so safe after all, but he couldn’t find it in him to move away from her soft, warm skin.

“Well,” she said, and he looked at her, her face red as a beet but her eyes glittering. “That was a fun time, if I do say so.”

Ichigo snorted out a surprised laugh and rested his forehead on hers. “Inoue, you’re crazy.”

She grinned, straightened his clothes, and said, “Thank you.”

He kissed her as briefly as possible, because any longer and he knew he’d get pulled in again, even with the threat of Aizen and company being witness. Pulling away, he tugged up her mussed collar and straightened her hair as she straightened his spikes.

As he untangled stray looping hairs stuck in her pins, he began muttering to himself, “Seven times seven equals forty-nine, eight times nine equals seventy-two, seven times twelve equals ninety-six—”

“Eighty-four,” she interrupted.

“What?”

“Seven times twelve equals eight-four.”

“Oh,” he said and brushed a hair off her cheek.

“Why are you doing multiplication?”

Ichigo cleared his throat. “Uh, to, uh, calm down.”

“Oh? …Oh! Is it working?”

Heat filled his face, and he shook his head, not looking at her. “Not really.” Not this time, not after… all that.

“Hm.” She tapped her finger on her chin a few times before raising it in triumph. “I know! Picture your father in a—”

“Stop right there. Picturing my father period is already helping. Thanks,” he muttered.

She pouted. “Aw, but I had such a good idea! I should draw him in it sometime. He was—”

“You ever stick me in a closet with that bony aristocrat again,” Kenpachi’s voice bellowed. “We’re dueling to the death, Urahara!”

A smooth voice answered unintelligibly, and Kenpachi answered with a bored, but still irritated, “Bite me, Bony.”

More and more voices began to fill the room, chattering and bickering and carrying on.

“Aaand,” Urahara finally said in a sing-song voice. “Laast but nooot leeaast…” Ichigo’s eye began to tick as Urahara drew out each word. “Our boy hero and the lady of the hour!” he paused here and a drumroll was beat against their locker.

“What are you doing, you idiot?” asked an impatient Yoruichi.

“Nothing, nothing, just… oh, making sure I’m not—” he tittered. “Interrupting our two lo—”

“Urahara!” Ichigo banged on the steel door as Orihime clapped her hand over mouth to cover her giggle. “Let us out already!”

With a flourish, the door was swung open and Orihime and Ichigo tumbled out, nearly falling over each other in the process. Ichigo helped Orihime find her footing and then turned to the people all looking at them and waiting.

He caught sight of Rukia first who was raising her eyebrows and pressing her lips together as her sparkling eyes bounced between them. Frowning, he glanced again at Orihime to make sure she was fine, when he froze. In the stark light, he saw things that he had missed and couldn’t have fixed anyway. Like a blush that wouldn’t go away and swollen, red lips and a rumpled look that was there in spite of all his straightening. Little things that unfortunately broadcast how they had passed the time to anyone even slightly curious. He was sure he was in no better shape.

Ichigo obediently sat at the little table across from his girlfriend, feeling a bit twitchy and guilty. He had been hoping she’d invited him in for a make out session, as had recently become their routine every time they got together. In fact, there had been less and less conversation and more and more… other things. An innocent tea date turned into kissing. Watching a movie turned into ignoring a movie. Even public dates ended with them back at her place or finding some private, dark corner in the park. He was finding it increasingly, embarrassingly difficult to keep his hands to himself.

But obviously she wanted to talk. And he needed to focus. Somewhere above her chest, preferably—and not her lips—ah, there, her eyes. Her very serious eyes. Ichigo frowned and noticed the painfully prim way she was sitting; her fingers were tightly clasped in front of her, a familiar gesture she used to stop herself from fidgeting.

All inappropriate and hormonal thoughts left him as anxiety settled in his stomach.

“Inoue, is… is there something wrong?”

She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “Kurosaki-kun.” He shifted and leaned forward. “I think our relationship has reached a certain point.”

His chest tightened so fast it nearly took his breath away. This was beginning to sound an awful lot like a break up. Except that… that was impossible. They loved each other. They were happy. They were forever.

Weren’t they?

Her intense brown eyes held him, but he wanted to look away from her direct gaze so he could think. Think about where they went wrong and where he had been so mistaken and where—

“If you are… if you agree, I think it’s time for us to move to the next level.”

Some of the panic that had reached his throat began to move back down. Next level? That meant leveling up, right? Which was good?

“Physically, that is.”

Ichigo froze and dared not let one presumptuous thought enter his head. “Physically?” he croaked.

Her tongue darted out and wet her lips. “I think it’s time we started having sex.”

Her face finally flared up in several shades of pink and red, and his mind spun. The room suddenly felt several degrees hotter, and he resisted the urge to tug at the collar of his shirt.

“Oh,” was the only thing that would leave his brain and exit his idiot mouth.

Orihime looked like she was in a lot of pain, and he was definitely going to put her at ease—just as soon as everything stopped spinning.

“Um,” she floundered. “If you don’t want to… that’s… that’s fine. I just… well, I thought—”

“I want to!” he practically shouted, wincing.

Her eyes flew up to his face, and the world stopped spinning when she smiled brightly at him.

“Well, then,” she said, her whole demeanor relaxed and sunny once again. She stood up and held out her hand. “Shall we?”

He stared at her hand. “Right now?”

She nodded excitedly and wiggled her fingers at him, looking for all the world as if she was urging him to join her for a jaunty carousel ride.

Okay. Okay. “Okay.” He winced again. He should be saying something romantic or seductive or something other than the stupid things coming out of his mouth. He should be sweeping her off her feet, but instead she was pulling him to his and leading him towards her bedroom.

His body was starting to catch up with what was happening, and he was sure he could feel every nerve thrumming with energy.

“Oh!” she said happily, glancing over her shoulder at him. “And I have plenty of condoms in here, so no worries!”

Ichigo tripped and would have fallen on his face if Orihime hadn’t been there to catch him.

My hero, he thought, and sighed a bit dreamily as she helped him and continued to lead him forward.

fluff

Little Ichigo held his mother’s hand tightly as they walked towards the ice cream shop. He skipped along side her, swinging their hands back and forth. The huge grin on his face stretched wider when he glanced up at his mother, reddening his cheeks and scrunching his eyes shut.

The ice cream shop was a simple, old place run by an elderly couple in matching red and white striped aprons and caps. They smiled brightly as the little orange-head and his mother burst inside.

“Good afternoon, Masaki!” the woman said. “And good afternoon to you too, little Ichigo.”

Masaki said her hellos, and Ichigo stretched his and his mother’s arm as he leaned towards the glassed-in ice cream, examining the flavors. His nose and one hand pressed against the glass, the other hand still clasped in his mother’s.

The old man bent down and peered at Ichigo through the glass, his eyes friendly. “The usual scoop of chocolate for you, sir?”

“Actually, he gets two scoops today,” his mother corrected. “Today’s his birthday.”

“Oh my!” the woman cried. “Happy Birthday, Ichigo! And how old are you today?”

Ichigo looked up at her a little shyly before grinning and proudly showing her all his fingers on hand.

“Five! You’re growing up so fast!”

“Oh?” Ichigo’s attention was brought back to the man behind the glass. “Two scoops, my my.” The old man’s eyes grew wide and Ichigo’s involuntarily copied and grew wide too. “Well then, what will have as your second scoop?”

A little frown scrunched up Ichigo’s forehead as he carefully examined the flavors in front of him.

“I’ll have one scoop of strawberry ice cream, please,” his mother said.

Ichigo was barely aware of the grown up’s conversation or of the bell jangling on the door and the newcomers’ chatter.

“What pretty hair!” the old lady declared.

“Thank you very much!” came the cheerful reply in a little girl’s voice.

Ichigo pondered a chocolate ice cream mixed with marshmallows and other things. He liked marshmallows, but marshmallows meant less chocolate. And less chocolate was bad.

“One scoop of green tea ice cream and one scoop of bubblegum for the young lady?”

Ichigo’s chin scrunched in disapproval at the lack of chocolate in the young lady’s order. Finally, he decided what he wanted and practically danced waiting for the others to finish.

When the attention was finally back on him he held up two little fingers. “Two chocolate scoops. Please.”

The couple looked momentarily surprised and then chuckled. He looked up at his mother, meaning to ask her what was so funny, but she was hiding her smile behind her ice cream.

“Onii-chan, vanilla is so boring!”

Ichigo looked over at the chastising but concerned little girl. She held her cone closely, pink ice cream on her nose. The tall, dark-haired young man standing next to her chuckled and ruffled her hair.

“But I love vanilla!”

“Hmm…”

He laughed again. “Will it ease your mind if I put sprinkles on it?”

She nodded.

“Sprinkles on mine, please?”

Ichigo’s mother laughed suddenly. “She has you wrapped around her little finger.”

The dark-haired man had a smile that crinkled his eyes shut. “Yeah, she does.”

Ichigo watched the little girl curiously examine her finger with a small frown. His eyes followed her as they made to leave. As she passed him, she looked up and her eyes grew big.

“Ah!” A little finger pointed at his head. “Your hair! It’s like orange soda!”

He blinked.

“Orihime,” the man scolded.

“I like it!” she said. “It’s strange like mine!”

Ichigo blinked again, and her smile filled her face. “Um… thank you?” he said.

She giggled, and he watched her skip out the door until the door jangled shut.

“Oh?” The old man was casually leaning over the glass case, Ichigo’s ice cream cone in his hand. “Already got your eyes on the pretty girls, eh?”

Ichigo felt confused.

The old woman slapped her husband on the shoulder. “Stop teasing him and give the boy his ice cream.”

“All right, all right. Happy birthday, son.”

“Thank you!” He happily took the cone and dove in.

“Ready to go to the park and eat your ice cream?” his mother asked.

He silently nodded, his mouth full of ice cream.

Later, he was happily finishing off his ice cream cone, sitting on a park bench next to his mother, his short legs swinging back and forth.

“Wanna play on the playground a little?”

His orange spikes shook in affirmation and he ran towards the playground with his mother in tow. She laughed and let herself be dragged to the slides and then to the swings. After a few minutes of swinging, she pointed over to the far side.

“The little girl from the ice cream shop is over there.”

Ichigo craned his neck to see on his next up swing. He caught a flash of her bright hair bent intently over the sandbox.

“Do you wanna go play with her?”

He looked over at the girl again.

“…Can I?”

“Of course! Mommy’s ice cream is getting a bit too jostled in her tummy anyway.”

She hopped off her swing and then dragged Ichigo’s swing to a stop, helping him off.

“Go on then, enjoy yourself. We’ll head home in about half an hour.” She combed her fingers through his hair, sighed affectionately when the spike sprung back up, and sent him on his way.

Ichigo ran towards the sandbox, but then slowed a little before coming to it, suddenly feeling a little shy. She had built some kind of sand wall, dividing the sandbox into two halves. One half had several sticks lined up and stuck in the sand with leaves in front of them. The other half had stones lined up. She sat on the side with the sticks and leaves.

“If you don’t give us the prince, evil rock kingdom,” she said in a stern voice. “We will have to rescue him by force! This is your final warning!”

Ichigo approached from the side where the rocks were.

“Ah! Prince Orange Soda, there you are!” she cried. He jumped a little and then shifted on his feet, unsure of what he should do.

“Don’t be scared, Prince Orange Soda,” she reassured him. “I, Princess Basket, and my Twig Army will rescue you in no time!”

He nodded and kneeled down behind the evil rock army. It soon became clear that the stubborn rock kingdom did not intend to cooperate in any negotiations, and so with great reluctance, Princess Basket and her Twig Army began their siege. Ichigo soon found himself quite involved and began to feel nervous for the fates of them all.

But to his great relief, the Princess Basket had a back-up plan and brought in thicker and larger twigs (Tree Giants, she called them) who began to batter at the walls. When the rock kingdom’s fortress began to topple and while the rock kingdom was distracted, Princess Basket herself swooped in and rescued Prince Orange Soda. With a hop over the wall, carefully avoiding his twiggy rescuers, he was finally safe with Princess Basket.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Any time,” she said.

“So, what do we do now?”

Her brown eyes looked up and to the side. “Hmm, I think we’re just supposed to live happily ever after.”

“Oh.” That didn’t sound bad. Although he still didn’t know what to do.

“I’m Orihime, what’s your name?”

Ichigo looked down at the hand stuck out towards him, and took it in his, rough sand gently scraping against his skin. He returned her smile and said, “Ichigo. My name’s Ichigo.” She pumped his hand several times. “It’s my birthday today,” he added.

Her eyes grew wide at that. “It is? Happy birthday! How old are you?”

He stuck out his free hand and showed her.

“Me too!” She bounced a little. “Well… almost. I’m more than four and a half, anyway!” she said proudly. “Do you want to play on the slides with me?”

Ichigo nodded.

She smiled again. Not that she ever really stopped smiling. She just smiled bigger or smaller, depending. “Don’t be scared,” she whispered. “But the ground beneath the slides is full of straw monsters ready to” —she paused here to making a loud sucking noise, nearly going cross-eyed with the effort— “suck you down into the ground and force you to eat worms the rest of your life.”

It sounded terrifying but kind of amazing and so he was happy to let her lead him to her next adventure.

Thirteen years later, not-so-little-anymore Ichigo pulled to a sudden stop next to a playground he hadn’t been to in years. The girl with him stopped and looked up at him curiously as she continued to eat her bubblegum and green tea ice cream.

The memory came back to him so clearly, he couldn’t believe he had ever forgotten it.

He released the hand he had been holding, only to offer it to her again. She stared at it in amused bewilderment, and he cleared his throat. “Princess Basket? I think the Rock Kingdom is targeting the Twigs again.”

For a moment, she looked as if she wouldn’t remember, but then light dawned in her eyes and she turned and looked out at the playground. He waited as she looked first at the sandbox and then at the swings and then finally back at him, an amazed smile on her face.

“Prince Orange Soda,” she said as she took his hand. “Be careful of the straw monsters, dear prince, I hear they’re bitter that we thwarted them so easily the last time. They may have gotten cleverer.”

humor

“Kurosaki-kun is like a lobster!”

“...Sorry?”

Orihime pointed her fork at the boiled crustacean on her plate. “You know!” She scowled fiercely at him and lowered her voice. “Hard and crusty on the outside.” She poked the soft white flesh while softening her face and batting her eyelashes “Soft and squishy on the inside.”

“S-Squishy?”

“Hm,” she frowned in thought. “But lobsters don’t have spines. That’s a problem. Kurosaki-kun has a very well developed spine.”

Ichigo stared at her and tried to figure out if he was being complimented or insulted by being compared to a sea bug.

She suddenly snorted, looked at him with dancing eyes, opened her mouth, closed it, shook her head, looked back down at her lobster, and snorted again.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing.”

She was starting to turn red, and he narrowed his eyes at her shaking shoulders.

“What the hell, Inoue?”

“I just…” her lips were trembling as she tried to control herself.

Ichigo glared at the approaching waiter until he turned back around and then glared at his dinner date. “You just what?”

Orihime took a deep breath. “Remember that time we went to the beach a-and you insisted you didn’t need any sun block, but you forgot you’re a ginger, Kurosaki-kun, and we got home and—” She was sputtering and wheezing by now, and could only shake her head as she drew circles in the air above the red lobster with her fork.

Ichigo flushed. She looked up, saw his red face, and turned away as she tried to hold back more laughter with sputtering.

He scowled at the lobster, sniffed, and grumbled, “The sun was just extra bright that day. Normally—”

One day, Queen Masaki was finally found to be expecting, and after many months of dramatic, but joyful, crying fits and excessive fussing, a son was born. King Isshin immediately began to make plans for a huge banquet and invited practically everyone.

Weeks later, the castle was filled to the brim with people and magical beings from all walks of life; dancing, music, and food could be found in every hall and room.

When the time came, the people crowded into the throne room and watched as the six fairy godparents flitted about the cradle. The little prince’s tiny hands pumped and grabbed and reached for the glowing creatures.

The first fairy, Ayame, blushed and giggled and quietly said, “The prince shall be the most handsome man in the land.”

The second fairy, Baigon, snorted behind his mask at Ayame’s shallowness and waved his wand. “He shall have the strength of an ox!”

The third fairy, Hinagiku, sped forward and said, “He shall have the reflexes of a panther.”

The fourth fairy, Lily, zig-zagged above him, making the prince giggle with glee. “He shall sing like a nightingale.”

The fifth fairy, Shun’o, approached and smiled kindly at the wide-eyed child. He said, “His heart will be the kindest this castle has ever known.”

The sixth fairy, Tsubaki, grumpily flew above the baby, and the two seemed to eye each other challengingly. He had just raised his wand and opened his mouth when a great wind blew into the throne room, sending the fairies and hundreds of hats tumbling through the air. The people gasped and cried out when the swirling dust settled to reveal a tall, dark-haired man in a… rather ridiculous white butterfly costume, it looked like.

“Aizen!” was the name whispered in terror throughout the crowd.

With his gaze narrowed but relaxed, his deceptively serene smile in place, and his curl just so, fairy godfather Aizen took a few languid steps forward.

“Uh…” said King Isshin.

“What are you doing here?” Queen Masaki demanded.

“Ah, yes,” Aizen said. “And immediately we arrive at the heart of the problem. It is odd that I am here, isn’t it? Since I wasn’t invited.”

King Isshin cleared his throat. “Aizen, you betrayed the kingdom decades ago, you were exiled. Tha—”

Aizen pressed a hand to his chest. “And just because of that, I don’t get invited to parties?” His white wings flapped in annoyance. “Your manners are severely lacking, Your Majesties.” The wings ceased moving with a sharp snap. “I could destroy you and your entire kingdom and the surrounding kingdoms just for that offense, you know.” He paused and seemed to soak in the tense fear in the room. “But, unlike you, I’m not completely unreasonable.” Aizen turned towards the cradle and moved till he was beside it, looking down his nose imperiously at the curious prince. The king and queen were standing now, their faces twisted in menacing anger. But Aizen only smiled, because there was nothing they could do against his power. “I will settle for controlling the fate and destiny of your son from his birth to his death.”

The king and queen each took a step forward, but the fairy only looked at them and they were frozen, unable to move or even speak because of some unseen pressure.

“Don’t move,” he said with a subtle smirk. “I’m just going to give the little brat my blessing.” He raised his wand, tossed his curl, fluttered his wings, and when he spoke his smooth voice filled the room. “When Prince—sorry, what’s the brat’s name?—ah, when Prince Ichigo reaches the age of seventeen, he shall prick his finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel, and he shall,” he paused. “Die.”

The crowd gasped and some screamed. The royal parents sank to their knees in shock and despair. Aizen looked exceedingly pleased with himself, his lips twitching.

“Well, I’m late for tea,” he said, and grabbed a plate of confections before disappearing in a swirl of dust and wind and those near it caught the faintest sound of high-pitched cackling.

The castle was eerily silent except for a bit of quiet sobbing. The fairies somberly approached the cradle, feeling regretful. For what was beauty, strength, and a nice voice in the face of death via needle prick?

Tsubaki, the final fairy, cleared his throat. “As usual, everyone forgets about me, but I haven’t said my piece yet.”

He felt the room suddenly look to him with hope and relief. He fidgeted.

“Uh, don’t get your hopes up, folks. There’s not much I can do.”

The room sagged.

“I can’t overpower the finger pricking thing,” he continued gruffly, his wand raised above the wide-eyed babe. “But I can overpower the other thing. Instead of dying, the prince will fall into a deep sleep that can only be broken by, uh, true love’s kiss.” The other fairies stared at him as he finished his wand waving. “What? It’s the only thing that breaks these kinds of things, I’m doing the best I can here!”

Hope stirred in the hearts of the people and their king and queen, but King Isshin was not one to take chances. He ordered all the spinning wheels in the land be gathered and thrown into the fire and banned them until after his son’s seventeenth birthday.

The fairies then offered to raise the prince in a secluded place where no spinning wheels and no badly dressed, easily offended fairies could get to him. The king and queen tearfully agreed, and the fairies whisked the baby away to a small cottage where they raised him as best they could.

He turned out to be all they had blessed him to be—he was handsome, strong, kind, quick, and had a lovely singing voice. But, unfortunately, they forgot to say anything about his personality. And so, because of being separated from his parents and never told why, his only friends being fairies and woodland creatures, and the constant desire for a spinning wheel that was never appeased, he grew up to be quite the grumpy teenager.

One day, he was in the woods picking berries and singing (he wasn’t sure he actually liked to sing, but he never seemed to be able to stop), when the hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he whirled around, ready on the defense.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you!” a cheerful voice said.

The intruder grinned at him, and he looked her up and down. She was quite pretty with long, bright hair and a friendly face, wearing a riding outfit that looked fit for royalty. He relaxed a little, still clutching his little basket of berries.

“Uh, that’s okay,” he said.

She approached, her hands clasped behind her back. “I was out riding and heard you singing. You have a very pretty voice.”

Ichigo swallowed. “Um, thanks.”

The girl’s eyes twinkled before widening when she spotted his basket. “Ah! I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Are those berries? Do you want some help?”

He frowned down at his basket and then back at her. “Well, it’s… messy. It’ll get all over your clothes.” He gestured towards the berry stains on his berry-picking apron.

She shrugged. “No big deal, I have too many outfits as it is.” Her eyes were eagerly looking at his basket.

“Um, well, if you really want to.”

She squealed and clapped her hands, her enthusiasm startling him.

“I’m Orihime, by the way,” she said as she settled next to him in front of the berry bushes.

“I’m… Ichigo.”

She bit her lip and looked at him, her eyes dancing.

“Don’t,” he warned menacingly.

One giggle slipped out and she stuffed a berry in to stop any more laughter. In fact, as time went on, he was sure she was putting a lot more berries into her mouth than into the basket. When he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he burst out laughing at the berry juice staining all around her mouth. She blushed and wiped, only making it worse until he took mercy on her and tore part of his shirt off, dipped it in a nearby stream, and handed her the wet cloth.

“But your shirt,” she protested.

He shrugged. “Deed’s already done.”

She smiled softly as she took the cloth and wiped at her mouth. “You’re very kind.”

Ichigo shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just a shirt.”

When she finished, she looked at the fabric, unsure of what to do with it. He noticed she’d missed a spot high on her cheek, and told her so.

“No, a bit higher… no, no over to the left… no, your left… hang on…” He frowned as he grabbed the cloth and gently rubbed the spot off her cheek. “There, all… gone…” He stilled when he looked at her because her face was flushed, and she was looking at him funny. His face started to feel a bit flushed as well, and he decided he had stayed out in the sun long enough.

“Well,” he said. “I should get back. It’s getting late.”

“Hm? Oh! So it is…” She looked around and then slowly got to her feet. “Do you…” Her hands tugged at the rich fabric of her jacket. “Do you live around here?”

He nodded. “Not far from here.”

“Oh, well, maybe I’ll see you again?”

His heart did a little jump. “Yeah, maybe…”

She beamed at him and took off, waving goodbye as she went to retrieve her horse.

Over the summer, he saw her many times, and her visits soon became the highlight of his life. He decided not to tell his fairy godparents, as they could be a bit funny about him meeting new people. It wasn’t long before just looking at her made his heart flip-flop and melt, and he was pretty sure he was—he blushed—falling in love.

“What’s got you looking like such a sap?” Tsubaki grouched.

Ichigo jerked and scowled at his least liked guardian. “None of your bees wax,” he snapped childishly.

Tsubaki grunted and muttered something about teenagers.

Ayami eyed him knowingly and softly said, “It looks like our Ichigo is in love.”

Ichigo’s face flushed hotly as he sputtered.

“In love?” Tsubaki sneered. “Who on earth would he fall in love with? A chipmunk?”

Shun’o turned from his cooking to look at their charge, and Ichigo looked away from the fairy’s smile. “Who is it?”

Ichigo shrugged.

Tsubaki looked horrified. “You mean… But he can’t fall in love!”

Ayami sighed. “He needs to fall in love some time.”

“And what better time than now?” Shun’o pointed out.

“What better… are you all daft?!” Tsubaki yelled. “This could be a trick!” The angry fairy grabbed Ichigo by his shirt. “Who is this person? Tell us everything or we’ll lock you up in the basement!”

Ichigo pulled the fairy off of his shirt and glowered. “Like I said, none of your business.”

Shun’o approached, and Ichigo fidgeted under his understanding gaze. “Why don’t you tell us? Do you know their name?”

He cleared his throat and decided that since at least Shun’o and Ayami seemed okay with it, he’d tell them. He had been wondering how he could get away and see her on his birthday anyway, maybe he could invite her over for the packed schedule the fairies had planned. “Her name is Orihime.”

“Orihime? What an unusual name,” Ayami mused.

Lily came in with Baigon and Hinagiku just then and said, “Orihime? Are you talking about the princess?”

All heads turned towards her. “Princess?” Shun’o repeated.

“Yeah, Princess Orihime from the neighboring kingdom. I hear she’s gorgeous and super nice.”

The focus was back on Ichigo. He looked down and fiddled with the edge of the table.

“Did you know she was a princess, Ichigo?” Ayami asked.

He nodded and studied the grooves in the wood. He knew he should bury the idea of anything being between them, a poor kid in a cottage raised by fairies and a princess in a castle raised by probably loving parents—although, come to think of it, she never mentioned her parents—and doting servants, but there it was. She did keep coming back, so that had to mean something.

He looked up at the unusually quiet atmosphere, and his guardians seemed to be silently communicating amongst themselves. After a time, Tsubaki rolled his eyes and grunted, turning his back on the lot of them.

“Well,” Shun’o finally said. “How about you invite her over for your birthday and introduce us.”

Ichigo blinked, not expecting it to be anywhere near that easy. “Uh… sure. I’ll ask.”

“Great!” Lily squealed. “This is going to be the best birthday ever, Ichigo, just you wait.”

The fairies seemed strangely excited, and Ichigo could tell they were hiding something big from him. But then, he had had that same feeling basically his entire life, so he shrugged it off and moved on to feeling nervous about inviting Princess Orihime to his birthday party.

He saw her the next day, smiling a little as she thundered towards him on her great white horse, her long hair flowing behind her and a big grin on her face.

“Hullo!” she cried, and swung down off her horse before it had come to a complete stop.

“Oi, that’s dangerous!”

She waved her hand dismissively. “I do it all the time,” she said and poked him in the arm. “You old worry wart.”

He scowled down at her. “I am not a worry wart.”

She beamed up at him. “Okay, okay. Maybe not a wart. A worry—” she paused to waggle her eyebrows, “berry?”

His hand snatched out to grab her arm, but she jumped away in time with a scream. However, being blessed with quickness, so she didn’t stand a chance a second time, and he grabbed her arm and pulled her close. She was laughing and flushed and so very close and warm, but he flushed when he realized he had no idea what to do with her now that he had her.

Her laughter was beginning to fade as she watched his face, and his eyes followed the fall of her smile and her teeth tugging at her bottom lip.

An idea was forming in him that his brain wasn’t quite privy to, and his head started to move towards hers. Her face was just beginning to blur when his brain finally caught up, and he stuttered. “Uh… my birthday.”

She blinked away a glaze that had formed over her eyes and said, “What?”

He released her arm and stepped back. “My… birthday is the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh!” Orihime smiled at him.

“And I was wondering, if you have time, you’re probably really busy with princess stuff, but… I was just wondering if you might want to… to come to my house? There’s gonna be kind of a day-long party thing… It’s a bit embarrassing, really, and for some reason it starts at midnight and I think they plan on keeping me up the entire 24 hours.” He was definitely rambling. “And you’re… invited. You don’t need to come at midnight just… any time during the day… is fine.”

Her eyes sparkled up at him like he had handed her the greatest gift in the universe. “I’d love to come! I… I don’t think I’ll be able to get away from the castle until morning. They have these rules, you see. But I’ll definitely be there as soon as I can get away!”

“Okay,” he said and grinned lopsidedly at her.

She fell into step next to him, and he watched the sword bounce against her hip.

“You don’t usually carry that, do you?” he asked, nodded at the weapon.

“Hm? Oh, no, but there’s some kind of vague threat going on that no one is telling anyone else about.” She frowned. “I’m not sure if anyone actually knows what it is. Everyone’s on high alert for some reason, though. Usually I just leave my sword with my horse, but I’m required to,” she paused to deepen her voice into a stern tone. “Have a sword on your person at all times, no exceptions! The sword is your best friend, your lover, your very self!” She sighed. “I even have to have it next to me when I take a bath, if you can believe.”

Ichigo made a valiant and gentlemanly effort to not imagine Orihime in a bath.

Big, brown eyes looked up at him apologetically. “I’ll have to take it to your party, I’m afraid. Will your family mind?”

He shook his head silently, still making that valiant effort.

“There has always been this story going around that people are whispering about more often lately, and I think that has something to do with it. Have you heard about the cursed prince that’s doomed to die by a spindle?”

Ichigo shook his head again, frowning at the tug in his chest at the word “spindle”. “I’ve always wanted to use a spinning wheel,” he said for no reason at all.

Orihime looked at him in surprised confusion. “Really?”

“Yeah…” He coughed. “Anyway, what about this cursed prince?”

“Well, apparently some evil fairy cursed this prince when he was a baby, and on his seventeenth birthday, he’ll die—or some people say he just falls into this deep sleep—by pricking his finger on a spindle. I hope it isn’t true, that sounds like an awfully anti-climactic way to die.”

Ichigo thought that it sounded like a glorious way to go. He was somewhat aware that that was a bizarre thing to think, so he was prevented from saying it out loud, but there it was.

“What do you want?” she suddenly asked.

“Huh?”

“For your birthday, what would you like? I have to bring a gift!”

He opened his mouth to say she didn’t have to bring a gift, but instead he said, “A spinning wheel.”

Orihime laughed, even though he was completely serious. He was grateful she took it as a joke, because that was a stupid thing to ask for. “You’re turning seventeen, aren’t you? What will I do if you’re really the cursed prince in disguise and you prick your finger and drop dead. I’ll never be able to live with myself,” she said gleefully.

“You don’t have to get me anything,” he finally managed to say.

She hummed and tapped her chin. “I’ll just have to think of something, then.”

At the midnight of his birthday, Ichigo was jarred awake by the sounds of clanging pots and pans and shouting. He scowled around his room at the fairies and the floating kitchenware. They had woken him from a lovely dream about a room full of beautiful spinning wheels of all colors and designs. It had been the most wonderful dream he had ever had, too.

They were shouting various versions of “happy birthday” to him until he groaned and dragged himself out of bed.

He was then ushered into the kitchen for a midnight breakfast, and the madness continued from there with continuous hovering and every silly game imaginable. His guardians never left his side, insisting on even being near when he went to the bathroom. The they’re-hiding-something vibe was stronger than ever, but he was too tired and grumpy to care much. Plus, his thoughts kept wanting to dwell on spinning wheels.

It was nearing dawn when he began to feel incredibly antsy. Just a few minutes to himself. He would do anything for even two minutes alone.

He had no more thought that than the opportunity presented itself. Most of his guardians were off somewhere else getting something ready for some new game, and he was left with Lily and Tsubaki who were currently locking horns—something about the color of some outfit they were giving him—and not paying him the least bit of attention.

Ichigo deftly slipped out and exited the house, breathing in the cool morning air. A feeling began to tug at him insistently, an overwhelming urging to take a walk in a certain direction. Daydreaming about spinning wheels, he dreamily followed the urge into the woods. Deeper and deeper into the woods he went, the pull getting stronger with every step.

Soon, he walked into a clearing where a small castle seemed to have dropped out of the sky. It was bright white and creepy looking, but Ichigo wanted to go inside more than anything, so he did. Through the large, colorless doors, into a gaping foyer, and over to a small door he went, and up up up a spiraling set of stairs in a tower. With a trembling hand, he opened the door to the room at the top, and smiled happily at the sight.

In the middle of the room, with the morning light shining in, sat the most beautiful sight he had ever seen: a spinning wheel. The spindle gleamed in the sunlight, and Ichigo strode to its side and did what he had been yearning to do his entire life.

With nothing to stop him, he reached out his finger and pricked it. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the crimson blood sliding down his finger in a curved path, and the last thing he thought was Well, Orihime will be surprised.

Meanwhile, Orihime was on her horse, galloping through the woods towards the cottage, eager to get to the party as soon as she could. When she arrived at the little house, she blinked at the fairies outside the home who were looking frantic and yelling at each other.

“We were supposed to—”

“—and if you hadn’t—”

“We need to—”

Orihime couldn’t make out at all what they were saying. “Um, excuse me?”

They all whirled around and stared at her.

“Princess Orihime?” a blonde fairy asked.

“Yes, that’s me.You must be his family? It’s lovely to meet you! I’m here for the party, but…” she caught her breath after rushing through the niceties. “Is something wrong?”

One of the fairies began to cry, and Orihime’s heart seized.

“Well, it seems our Ichigo is missing,” another fairy said.

“Missing? What do you mean?”

A dark-haired and particularly angry fairy came forward. “Enough talk! We need to find Ichigo before that idiot finds a spinning wheel!”

Orihime gasped as fear and grief threatened to crush her heart. “No,” she breathed. “He’s the cursed… cursed…”

“Cursed prince, yes!” the angry fairy shouted. “Now—”

A distant but loud and echoing laugh of triumph interrupted the fairy and sent chills up Orihime’s spine.

“Aizen. He’s succeeded.”

“It’s not too late! We have the princess!”

“It came from that direction!”

“Come on everyone,” said the fairy who first addressed her. “You too, Princess Orihime, we’ll need your help most of all!”

Orihime didn’t fully understand, but she quickly urged her horse to race after the speeding fairies through the woods. After a few minutes, one fairy called to her to look out. Just in time, she reared her horse back, narrowly avoiding a thick overgrowth of thorny vines.

She hopped off her horse and gave it a pat. “Looks like this is as far as you go, Enraku.”

With a glance up beyond the overgrowth, where she could just make out an ivory tower connected to a castle, she drew her sword and began to hack at the vines.

“Be careful, Princess, these vines are magical.”

No sooner had she been warned, when a vine covered in long thorns hurtled towards her. She lifted her sword to deflect it, but three of the fairies flew in front of her and blocked it with a glowing yellow shield between them. There was no time for thank you’s, and so she vigilantly continued to slice a path through the cursed foliage.

As soon as she stepped out of the vines, a swarm of black, green-eyed bats swooped low and attempted an attack. Again, the fairies held up a shield that knocked the bats back several yards and mostly unconscious.

Orihime rushed for the open door of the castle, but stopped short when a tall man in a strange white butterfly costume stopped her as soon as she entered the castle. Aizen the evil fairy, she realized.

He laughed darkly. “Princess Orihime, isn’t it? I remember you. Your parents invited me to your celebration. In fact, I was the only fairy invited. But then, they were always ones to walk more on the dark side.”

Orihime frowned and held up her sword, not wishing to discuss people who had been out of her life since she was a toddler. “Where is the prince?”

Aizen smiled serenely. “Asleep.”

Some of the tension in her chest emptied with relief that the less popular rumor had been the true one.

“You look relieved. How foolish.” With that, a tornado of dust rose from the floor and hid him from view, swirling and spreading endlessly until the foyer of the castle was filled smoke and sparkling dust. Then a wind swept through the room, blowing away the magic and revealing a large, pale dragon.

Orihime narrowed her gaze, filled her lungs, held her sword so perfectly that her tutor and best friend, Tatsuki, would have wept from joy, and charged the creature.

As Orihime would say later, it really was a bit anti-climactic, as much as the commemorative murals would make it seem otherwise. The evil fairy, who was usually quite intelligent, chose that moment to be very stupid. The great hall of the small castle wasn’t great enough to handle a dragon of the size that his ego had cooked up, so moving wasn’t really an option. His fire breathing mechanism was apparently completely squished. And so, Aizen could only watch in horror as the princess quickly dodged the one clawed foot he could move and headed straight for his heart.

But then she did the oddest thing: she skidded to a stop and looked around.

“Are you stuck?” she asked.

He wheezed a puff of gray smoke.

“Oh.” She lowered her sword and eyed the clawed foot desperately grabbing at air just a few feet away from her. “Well, okay then.” And with that, she raised her sword again, and then plunged it into his foot, trapping it against the floor. “We’ll figure out what to do with you later, but if you’re good and tell me where the prince is, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

One toe was still working, and so he pointed towards the door to the tower. She nodded, waved, and ran to the tower. The fairies quickly bound the dragon with their magic for good measure. Tsubaki spat on one of his feet, and they all followed her up the tower.

The twisting flight of stairs seemed to go on forever, but finally they reached the top where there was a white, wooden door. Orihime tried it, but it didn’t budge.

“Stand aside,” Tsubaki said, and backed up a little before shooting towards the door’s key hole, effectively destroying the lock. The door swung open on its own, and Orihime and the rest of the fairies rushed inside.

It was a small, round room with one window. A spinning wheel was set against the wall, abandoned in a shadow. In the middle of the room sat a large canopy bed, and Orihime sprinted to it and shoved aside the sheer curtains.

“Ichigo?”

She leaned over and studied the sleeping prince. He was eerily still, his breathing barely visible, and a frown creased the skin between his eyebrows. His spiky tendrils rested on the white silk pillow and his hands lay peacefully clasped over his chest—he looked beautiful, she thought. The fairies floated on the other side of the bed, and she looked up at them, worried.

“How do we wake him up?” she asked.

The fairies looked at each other with fidgets and blushes. Shun’o was the one to speak up. “A kiss.”

Her cheeks pinked as she stared. “A… A what?”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to kiss him. It’s the only way to break the spell.”

Orihime looked down at the Ichigo, her eyes wide. “That’s… the only way?”

The fairies murmured in agreement.

She gulped and stepped closer. Truth be told, she had been wanting to kiss him for a while now; however, this wasn’t quite how she had thought it would go about. She had daydreamed about a million and one scenarios in her head as to how it could happen, but accosting him while he slept was not one of them.

Tsubaki let out a tiny roar of frustration. “For fairy dust’s sake, woman, kiss the kid so we can wake his ass up and go home.”

Orihime bit her lips and slipped her hand into his as she slowly lowered her head, her heart thundering in her chest. She was almost touching his lips with hers when she suddenly pulled back, shaking her head.

“I can’t, I just… can’t. It’s not right.”

Tsubaki sputtered expletives. Shun’o flitted towards her. “Princess Orihime,” he said gently. “If you don’t, then he will sleep forever—that’s no different from actual death, you know.”

Orihime closed her eyes with a wince and nodded. “You’re right, of course.” She frowned a little. “But… why does a kiss break the spell?”

“Oh, it’s not just any kiss. It’s true love’s kiss, of course.”

She blinked and flushed a bright red. “O-Of course…” So, with a deep breath, she leaned down and softly pressed her lips to those of the sleeping prince. Her heart raced and her skin heated and she still felt it was a bit wrong, but his mouth was warm and soft tingles ran from the kiss down to her toes. Even more so when his mouth began to move against hers and—

Orihime gasped and pulled back to find herself staring straight into dazed brown eyes.

“Princess Orihime?” Ichigo said, his voice groggy. A smile began to spread as his cheeks reddened. “Is this my birthday present?”

Tears slipped out of her eyes and ran down her cheeks as she laughed and wiped at her face. “Happy birthday, Ichigo. You’ve slept through most of it.”

His eyebrows lifted a little, and he dragged his eyes from her face to look about the room. The fairies floated nearby, some openly crying and some looking away as if they had somewhere better to be.

“What… Where am I?” he asked as he sat up.

“In a small castle in the middle of the woods,” Orihime said.

“Uh, and what am I doing here?”

Orihime gently ran her thumb along the back of his hand. “Well, where to start… Um…” She looked up at the fairies, and Shun’o gave her a small, serene smile and an encouraging nod. “For one,” she continued when she looked back into Ichigo’s eyes. “You’re a prince, Prince Ichigo.” His eyes grew big and his mouth dropped a little. “A legendary one, actually. The one I told you about. You see, you were cursed at birth by this other fairy, Aizen—he’s downstairs, by the way. He’s the dragon stuck in the foyer, as you’ll soon see—and you were supposed to prick your finger on a spinning wheel and die.”

His eyes lit up a little. “That explains my spinning wheel urges.”

She nodded.

Lily spoke up. “Do you have any urges now?”

Ichigo looked over at the spinning wheel leaning against the wall and grimaced. “If I never see one again, I’ll be happy.”

The fairies sighed in relief.

“But I didn’t die?”

“No,” Shun’o said and clapped Tsubaki on the shoulder. “All thanks to Tsubaki.”

Ichigo’s eyebrows scrunched sardonically. “Tsubaki?” he said with a slight sneer.

Tsubaki grunted and coughed and folded his arms over his chest.

“Because of him, you only fell asleep.”

Ichigo stared at the small, temperamental fairy for several beats until his face softened. “Well… thank you, Tsubaki,” he said with a breathy voice and a slight crack.

Tsubaki blushed and scoffed. “Get on with the rest of the explaining.”

Orihime looked up from where her eyes had been busy studying the hand still clasped in hers and cleared her throat. “Well, there isn’t much else to tell. You’re okay now.” She smiled at Ichigo while he frowned.

“But—”

Lily laughed short and loud. “There’s a lot more to tell than that! Princess Orihime rode like her horse was afire to get to you and then fought off magical, attacking vines, and an evil fairy turned dragon! She could have killed the dragon, too, but she showed mercy. She’s very brave, your princess.”

Orihime picked at the blanket and tried to ignore the stare of the prince and the way his hand held hers even tighter.

“Hesitated a bit on the kiss though,” Baigon said and guffawed as the princess turned bright red.

“Don’t tease her,” Ayami said, her voice quiet but firm. “That kiss saved him.”

“Don’t look at me!” Tsubaki protested, even though no one was really looking at him. “True love’s kiss is the only remedy to these damned curses. Someone should fix that.”

“True love’s kiss?” Ichigo echoed.

“Well!” Orihime’s bright voice said with the brightness turned up a few notches too high. “We should get going, the kingdom will want to hear the good news!”

“Wait,” Ichigo whispered and held on to her hand when she tried to tug it away.

Shun’o flitted around his fellow fairies and waved his hands in a shooing motion. “We have a few things we need to tend to before we go, you two just stay and chat for a bit.”

Orihime kept her eyes on the retreating fairies and winced when the door shut firmly behind them. The room was heavy with silence except for the blood pounding in her ears.

“Princess Orihime…” He didn’t say anything else for a few moments, and Orihime continued to find the pattern in the covers deeply intriguing.

She heard him take in a breath as if to speak, but then the door creaked open, revealing the fairy Tsubaki being pushed into the opening.

“Uh, the loons wanted me to relay something else to you. Uh, true love’s kiss can only work if, uh, both parties are, uh…” He hacked out a series of coughs. “If both parties are in true love,” he muttered. “Anyway, carry on—stop pushing me, Shun’o, I said it didn’t I?!”

The door shut in the middle of Tsubaki’s cursing, leaving the two alone in even thicker silence.

Orihime raised her eyes from the covers to their hands, up his seated form, and then to his face. He was looking at her in a way that he had never really looked at her before, there was an openness and a new warmth in his eyes, and her heart melted. She smiled, and he returned it with a nervous, half-smile of his own.

“You know, I… I missed the first part of that kiss,” Ichigo said.

She bit her lip, looked down, and looked up at him through her eyelashes, her cheeks growing hot again. “Y-You want to…?”

“Please,” he said with an eager nod. “It’s my birthday, you know,” he added.

Orihime laughed lightly at his flushed face, hesitated, then scooted up closer. Her heart jumped when he leaned in, and after another hesitation, she closed the gap and pressed her lips against his. His breath caught in his chest, and his hand reached around and held the side of her neck, his thumb brushing her jaw. Was it the lingering magic that made every cell in her body soar? That made her feel as if she never wanted to leave, never wanted to even think about coming up for air?

But eventually they parted and, if not completely broken, the spell surrounding them was loosened and her brain could start up its machinations again. She opened her eyes and saw that his gaze was unfocused as the hand at her neck slid down her shoulder and along her arm.

He touched his forehead to hers and unsure breaths mingled as the seconds tickled by until he spoke, his moving lips perilously close to coming into contact with hers again.

“There’s a dragon in the foyer?”

Orihime giggled. “Yeah, he’s stuck there.”

“And you fought him?”

She shrugged. “I was going to, but he got stuck so…”

“Wow,” he breathed and kissed her again.

“We really should go,” she said when she had gathered the will-power to pull away. “Your kingdom awaits. Oh! Your parents await too. I’m sure they’ve worried themselves into a frazzle.”

“Parents… I… I hadn’t even thought…” Ichigo cleared his throat and looked to the side. “Parents…”

Orihime gave his profile a soft smile and stood. She tugged on his hand, and he whipped off the covers to stand with her. He frowned down at the bed.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Did… Did that Aizen guy tuck me in?” he asked with a sneer.

Orhime’s face scrunched up, and she shook her head. “I don’t know, I guess so?”

“That’s… gross.”

She nodded.

They quickly left the tower room and descended the stairs to where Aizen remained, scrunched up and stuck in his own castle. The fairies were snickering at something they had done while the irritated dragon huffed and puffed in vain, stopping when he spotted Ichigo and Orihime. He narrowed his reptilian eyes and snorted out a particularly thick black cloud of smoke. Ichigo rolled his eyes and showed off his middle finger while Orihime went to retrieve her sword. Aizen whimpered when she yanked it out of his foot, and Ichigo grinned with pride.

“Ready to go?” Lily asked. “We’re just gonna let him stew here for a while until your father decides what he wants done with him.”

“My father…” Ichigo frowned and looked towards the door.

“Don’t expect much,” Tsubaki grunted. “He’s a weirdo, that father of yours.”

One orange eyebrow lifted. “A weirdo?”

“Oh, I like him!” Orihime declared.

Ichigo glanced at her. “You’ve met him?”

“Yes, I’ve met your parents a couple of times—they were the ones connected to the legend, although they never confirmed its truth around me. You have two little sisters too. Twins. Not identical though.” He suddenly looked a bit lost, and her heart constricted. She stepped up to put a hand on his arm. “They did what they thought they had to do to keep you safe. You’ll catch up and be a family in no time, I’m sure of it.”

He gave her a weak smile and nodded. “You’re coming with me, right?”

“Of course!” she said and offered her arm.

Aizen sputtered.

Ichigo clenched his pencil and grunted. Okay, fine, may as well admit it, he did know. Outside that window, he knew what Keigo was looking at—his best friend and his… his other friend, thick as thieves. He knew Chad was bending slightly, intently listening as she chatted with her hands animatedly waving and her face full of sunlight. He knew, he knew, he knew.

“You don’t suppose,” Keigo continued, and Ichigo did suppose. Ichigo knew. “They’re dating or something, do you?”

Ichigo shrugged and clenched his pencil even tighter.

“Weird,” was Keigo’s opinion.

Ichigo frowned. Weird? Why was it weird? His best friend and the most amazing… and his other friend. What could be more natural than that?

“Why is it weird?” Ichigo finally asked.

“Well, I dunno. I guess it’s not that weird, come to think of it. Chad’s a nice guy, Inoue’s a nice girl, but… I always kind of thought she… well, whatever, guess I was wrong.”

Ichigo tapped his pencil against his paper. “She what?”

“Hm?”

Ichigo looked up at Keigo, scowling at his friend’s clueless gaze. “You said ‘I always kind of thought she…’ Kind of thought she what?”

“Oh.” Keigo looked uncomfortable and turned his attention back to the outdoors. “Well, it’s stupid, I guess. But I could have sworn she had… I dunno.”

“Keigo, I swear to—”

“All right! I thought she was kind of into you, but—”

Ichigo snorted to cover the sudden storm in his chest at the idea of Orihime being “kind of into” him.

“Yeah, well, see why I didn’t want to say it?” Keigo grumbled. “It’s stupid.”

Stupid is right.

“Oh boy,” Keigo continued after a moment. “Yeah, they’re definitely dating.”

Ichigo couldn’t stop his head from swiveling over to catch what event had Keigo so sure, and there they were, standing way too close to each other, with Orihime’s arm looped through Chad’s as she beamed up at him like he was the most amazing, interesting, and lovable person she had ever known.

Ah.

Well.

Ichigo cleared his throat.

He was happy for them. So happy. So very, very fucking happy. Really. His best friend and his… Inoue. What could be better?

It had not escaped his attention that Chad and Orihime had spent a lot of time together for quite a while. They had started spending more time together in order to strengthen their powers for, of all things, him. He felt like he didn’t deserve friends like them, but they certainly deserved each other.

He was so happy about this. So happy he could cry.

“Ichigo, you okay?”

He looked back down at his paper. “Super. I just have to finish this, ‘kay Keigo?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said and went back to watching the happy couple.

It was his own fault that he felt like he had missed something important. There was never any guarantee that Orihime felt the same way. She could have rejected him, but at least he would have been able to tell her. Now he couldn’t say a word about it. Ever.

A thousand things always stopped him. This war, that war. Feeling like he couldn’t be with her because he was powerless and therefore useless to a spiritually aware person like herself. And then plain old fear of rejection stalled him. He always had an excuse ready, but he thought eventually, when the time is right when the planets are aligned when everything is perfect, he’ll tell her.

He always thought he would get a chance. Idiot.

Her laughter slipped past the windows and tickled his ear.

Keigo jumped when Ichigo’s chair shot back as he suddenly stood to his feet.

“You done already?” his friend asked.

“Have to do something before practice,” he said shortly, quickly packing his bag. “Later.”

“Okay, later.”

He was determined to be happy about this. His friends deserved all the happiness in the world, every drop. Which is why he wasted no time, marched up to them, tried to smile as much as he could, and said,

“I just wanted you guys to know, that I’m happy for you.”

Chad and Orihime looked at each other with twin expressions of bafflement. So they were already in sync. That was… adorable. Really.

Orihime spoke up first, “Happy for us about what, Kurosaki-kun?”

He shifted from one foot to the other. “Uh, sorry, was it supposed to be a secret?” Then maybe you shouldn’t make it so glaringly obvious, an awful sneering voice said from a dark corner in his mind.

Orihime’s big brown eyes blinked owlishly, and Ichigo had to look away because she was too pretty and it hurt. “Is what supposed to be a secret?” she asked.

“Look, I won’t tell anyone, but you guys…” He waved a hand vaguely between them. “Dating. That’s… great, and I’m happy for you.” There. He straightened up and looked first at Chad who looked shocked and confused, and then at Orihime who looked shocked, confused, and… hurt? He blinked, sure that he was seeing that wrong.

“Ichigo,” Chad rumbled. “You think we’re dating.”

No, he knew. “Well, you spend a lot of time together and,” he did the vague hand wave thing again. “It’s kind of obvious.”

Orihime blushed and snatched her arm out from Chad’s. Ichigo stared at the sudden space between his two friends. So in love she didn’t even notice what she was doing, apparently. Wonderful. He was so happ—

“Kurosaki-kun,” Orihime began. He winced because her voice was too pretty, especially when she said his name, and that hurt too. “We’re not dating.”

He looked up at her, but she was looking down at her clasped hands.

“Oh. You mean, you’re not dating yet.” Because he knew. He knew he had lost his chance; he felt it in the gaping hole in his chest.

Chad cleared his throat, but Orihime was the one who spoke. “I—I have to get to work, excuse me.” And with that she ran off. Ichigo stared after her and the dust trail she left behind and wondered at the strange crack in her voice.

“Ichigo,” Chad said, bringing his attention back. “We need to have a long talk.”

Ichigo felt the sudden need to sit down. Chad wanted to have a long talk, Orihime seemed upset that he would be happy for them, and it was becoming pretty clear that they really weren’t actually dating or even planning on it.

Maybe he didn’t know anything, after all.

Truth be told, nothing would make him happier.

He checked the time and began to count down the hours until her bakery closed.

au

Orihime yawned until tears popped into the corners of her eyes. She sighed and aimed an accusatory glare at her fishing line and a sad glance at her bucket of tiny fish. It had been less than successful fishing that morning, needless to say. Lately, she had been having terrible luck and had to placate her patrons with promises and watch dismally as they moved to other fish stalls. Her customers would be beyond unhappy if she didn’t catch some decent fish before it was time to get back to the—

“Oh!”

A hard tug at her line nearly sent her overboard, but she snapped her knees up and anchored her boots against the side of her boat while gripping her hold on her pole. She squealed in delight at the fish that was testing her arm strength to the limit. The size of it… it felt like a tuna!

With rapid and sure movements, she secured the rod and began to draw in the string. Several times, she was sure the line would break; but after nearly a minute of cautious, arduous labor, one firm tug brought a large fish tail up and over the side. She barely took a moment to gasp at its size and the beauty of its red and orange iridescent scales. Focusing, she grabbed a pole, sunk the net into the water, and struggled to find the head of the thing.

With one final tug, she brought more of the fish on board and, for the first time, she began to worry over whether she could handle whatever this was. She shook her head, put the image of the elated faces of her customers at the forefront of her mind, and just then felt her net hook over the head. There was little left of her strength, but she shouted and heaved her prize up and into her boat.

She cried out as she fell back, the heavy weight falling on top of her, and barely avoided smacking her head on the edge of the boat.

Gathering her wits, she readied herself for another battle, the net still secure in her hand, and focused her vision on what creature was weighing her down.

Orihime blinked. Blinked a few more times. Shook her head. And stared.

“Um…” was all she could find to say at the moment, for underneath her net was not the face of a large, panicked, and flopping fish; but it was the face of a large, wet, and furious man.

Her eyes took in his orange hair, the spiky tendrils dripping water in front of his fiercely scowling face. Something warm bloomed in her chest as she took in his features, and she found she liked his face quite a lot, frown and all. Although, that was probably a funny thing to think about when she should be figuring out what on earth was going on. But then, she frequently thought of odd things when she should be thinking of other things. For instance, she shouldn’t be staring at his dripping wet and naked torso—she should be more concerned about how human skin faded into fish scales.

“Oh my goodness.”

The fish… man… thingamabob… growled, and she started.

“Oi, mind gettin’ this thing off my head?”

Her mouth opened and closed like a… well, like a fish. “You’re a… a…”

His brown eyes narrowed.

“…a mermaid!”

“Merman,” he corrected.

“Oh… my goodness.”

“You said that.” He frowned down at the boat as he tried to lift himself off of her. His head jerked forward when the back of his neck caught in the net, and he glared at her again.

“I’ve…” Her free hand began to reach out. “Never seen a mermai—merperson before.”

“Clearly,” he grouched, eyeing her creeping hand.

She frowned. “No… that’s silly, isn’t it? You’re just in a very clever costume, right?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine, whatever. Can you just take the net off my head?”

“Oh! Yes. Sorry, sorry!” She lifted the net off his head, set it aside, and watched in wonder as he struggled to move to a sitting position, grumbling under his breath the entire time. The shimmering scales of reds and golds were beautiful under the matching colors of the rising sun. She reached out and touched the scales, only to yank her hand back when he jerked away and hissed at her.

As he scowled and looked her up and down, his tail fins lifted and bent towards him as he reached for the hook.

“It’s… an amazing costume. You can’t even see the legs and it feels so… real…”

He only grunted while examining the damage to his fin.

Orihime looked at the slight damage regretfully. “Here, I can get it out.”

He looked at her from underneath his eyelashes of deep suspicion.

“I’ve gotten hooks out of thousands, millions of fish! How about you?”

His frown reluctantly eased. After a few pensive moments, he began to twist his body until the fin was aimed towards her. Orihime grasped what she thought must be his feet inside there somewhere, and settled them on her lap. As she examined the hook, she glanced up at him.

“So, I’m Inoue Orihime, what’s your name?”

Silence followed, and she almost thought he wasn’t going to answer until he said, “Ichigo.”

“Ah, strawberries!”

He gave her a surly look.

“You know, this feels exactly like real scales and fins. Are you in a movie or something?”

His face twisted in confusion, and she didn’t know quite what to do with that.

She slipped the hook out and discarded it, giving him a light tap on his feet… or whatever. “All done! There’s a tiny hole there… I would fix it for you, I’m actually quite good at sewing, but I’ve never seen anything like this material before.”

“…Thanks.”

The muscles in his arms bunched as he lifted his hips up to the edge of the boat and twisted around, settling tail fins into the water with a sigh.

“Um… If you need to get somewhere, I can take you.”

He glanced back at her. “…No, I’m fine.”

“Oh, okay. Well, see you.”

He frowned a bit at that and then turned away and jumped in the water.

She quickly moved to the side of her boat to watch him, her eyes growing large when his tail fins lifted and splashed in a very real way. She continued to stare long after the final ripple had reached the shore, realization slowly dawning on her.

“I think… I think that was a real mer… man…” she said to herself. After a few more moments of contemplation on mermaids and their lifestyles and what they do for fun and what they eat, she soon realized that they eat fish. And if that’s the case, they must be the reason for the sudden fish depletion. She jumped up and rushed to get her boat moving in the direction of the fleeing mermaid, her heart fluttering, determined to come to some kind of human-merman fishing agreement.

crack

Ichigo pauses in his finger tapping to stare at a display of small boxes, certain that he’d seen one of them rattle. He continues to stare at them until his eyes begin to water and he’s forced to blink; when his eyelids open from the brief blink, he would swear he caught one of the boxes at the tail end of a rattle.

He finally shrugs to himself, mutters about old men and their weird shops, and gives in to the small bowl of chocolates on the counter and their little sign’s imploring words, “Eat Me”. Maybe not the wisest thing to do, eating candy laying around in a shop where boxes jumped around on their own, but it was free and and it was chocolate and Ichigo was only human… ish.

“Ah, Kurosaki-kun!”

He looks up and waves at the girl coming from the back of the shop. At the sight of her, he feels a tingling on his tongue that seems to shoot up to his brain. He frowns and quickly swallows the last of the melting chocolate. “Hey, Inoue.” His tongue is practically buzzing when he says her name. “What are you doing here?”

Her cheeks are quite pink and as she moves closer, her usual flowery, sugary scent was mixed with dust and sweat. It should maybe not be enticing at all, but nonetheless he’s leaning towards her a little more and breathing in a little deeper.

“Training with Sado-kun and Yoruichi-san. What are you up to?” she says brightly. That was always the thing with her, everything was so bright. Like she was constantly challenging the sun for its position in life. In his opinion, she wins hands down. But that would mean losing her, so he’s perfectly content to let the sun continue on in ignorant bliss.

Ichigo scowls at his weird thoughts.

A box rattles.

“Um…” he says. The little sun in front of him is beaming expectantly. She had asked him something… “Oh, uh, Urahara wanted something, I’ve been waiting on him.”

She opens her mouth to say something—something amazing, probably—when the sound of clogs clopping against wood approached and the blond oddball sailed in.

“Ah, Inoue-san, you’re all finished, good good.” Urahara cocks his head at Ichigo. “And what can I do for you this afternoon, Kurosaki-san?”

Ichigo feels his eye twitch. “You told me to come here.”

The fan opens and flutters. “Did I?”

His fists clench and his lips curl into a sneer, but then he notices long hair swaying as she looks back and forth between the two. He feels himself relaxing a bit, for some reason, his eyes glued on her hair. It’s ridiculously long and ridiculously shiny and he wonders if she would let him run his fingers through it some time.

He blinks.

“You did,” Ichigo replies finally.

Ichigo forces his gaze up at the shop owner and tries to narrow his eyes menacingly, but they seemed to be determined to drift back to her hair. “It was written on a banner hanging in my room when I got home.”

He glances up at Urahara long enough to see him slide his gaze the counter where the bowl of chocolate sat. Whatever he saw there seemed to satisfy him. Ichigo frowns suspiciously. Or tries, anyway. Orihime is tucking her hair behind her ear, and that is very distracting so his frown melts. Were ears supposed to be pretty?

“Oh? Well, dear me,” Urahara faux frets. “I have no business with you, that I know of.” His fan flutters innocently. “Either old age is catching up with me finally or Ururu-chan has been getting into the wrong boxes again, poor dear.”

“Oh,” is all Ichigo says. He knows he should be furious that Urahara wasted his time and dragged him down here and that the writing on the banner dripped blue paint onto his floor, but then Orihime was staring him with those impossibly big eyes and a cute little frown. He finds he doesn’t much care about anything else except the tiny crinkles between her eyebrows. It was always adorable when she frowned, because while others’ face might contort into deep creased intimidation, her face made only the slightest changes. It was like her face wasn’t used to frowns, and it didn’t know quite what to do so it just reluctantly put in the tiniest creases between her eyebrows to show that it was somewhat aware of what it was supposed to do.

Because she is the sun, you see. And suns don’t really frown. He would tell her not to confuse her face like that, but then, it’s awfully cute.

“Kurosaki-kun?”

“Hm?” He likes the way she says his name and constantly wonders what it would sound like if she said his given name, what her lips would look like curving to form each syllable. The mere thought gives him heart palpitations.

“Are you feeling all right? You look a bit… glassy-eyed.”

He blinks languidly. “Mhm, fine.”

She looks like she doesn’t believe him and purses her lips a little. He thinks he’ll study those for a while.

“Inoue-san is right, Kurosaki-san. You do look strange. Maybe you should take the boy home.”

“Huh? Oh! Sure, of course!” Orihime looks up at him, and he thinks maybe he should stop watching her lips move, but he doesn’t. “Kurosaki-kun, is that all right?”

He nods. Vaguely aware of what he’s nodding to, but content to do whatever she wants to do.

“Okay, well, see you around, Urahara-san!”

“Buh-bue, Inoue-san. Stay safe and I do hope you feel better, Kurosaki-san.”

Ichigo shrugs because he doesn’t know what Urahara is on about. Orihime is walking him home and he’s never felt better.

She smiles warmly as she brushes by him to go to the door, and his heart sings as his feet follow.

He’s watching her hair sway back and forth, back and forth, her feet doing a little bounce as she walks. She’s humming something, and he feels a sloppy grin spread over his face.

Her hair flips as she looks back at him, smiling, but then the smile drops and her eyes widen.

“Kurosaki-kun? You really don’t look well at all.” She’s stopped and he stands in front of her, leaning towards her a bit. The back of her hand is against his forehead and he closes his eyes contentedly. “You don’t feel warm.” He opens his eyes and she tilting her head with that adorable out-of-place frown. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because you’re so pretty,” he says.

He straightens a little and his smile starts to slip. He hadn’t meant to say that. He thinks he should be feeling something… like embarrassment. She certainly does, if the red filling her face is anything to go by. He likes it when she blushes, and she seems to do it a lot around him. He wonders why that is.

“Wh-What?” she says.

He watches, almost detached, as his hand reaches out and touches her hair. It’s just as soft as it looks, he thinks happily as caramel colored strands run along his palm and fingers. She’s making funny noises.

“Why do you blush around me so much?” he asks, genuinely curious.

She makes several more noises. All of them adorable, none of the informative.

“I-I-I think we better hurry and get you home.”

“Your home?” he inquires.

“What?” she squeaks.

“I asked, are we going to your home,” he repeats patiently. Once he’s started touching her hair, it’s nigh impossible to stop. He tucks it behind her ear, like she did earlier, and notices her breathing is starting to sound funny. He feels rather funny too, actually.

“Um, no… yours…” she says in a strangled voice. Her fingers are twisting around each other and he wishes her fingers would twist around his.

“Oh, my house is not very private, though.”

She’s staring at him like he’s gone mad, but there’s something else. Underneath her expression of horror and embarrassment and my-friend’s-gone-bonkers, there is something else and he wishes he could put his finger on it. Speaking of fingers, he decides his should join hers in this twisting game, which makes her squeak again.

He likes making her squeak, and he wonders what other noises she can make. Like what if he moves closer… No noises, but she is breathing rapidly and retreating rapidly. But there is a stone wall on the other side and her back soon hits it. He grins at the audible gasp and places his hands against the wall on either side of her head.

“This is cozy,” he comments.

She whimpers. “K-Kuro—”

He presses his finger against her lips, shushing her. Her eyes widen and then go cross-eyed when she tries to stare down at his intrusive finger.

“You are incredibly adorable, do you know that?”

She shakes her head, her coloring reaching the purple stage.

His finger slips off of her lips and down to her chin, resting there for the moment. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

He watches her lips move soundlessly as she attempts to melt into the stones. “K-K-Kurosaki-kun, we really, really need to get you home.”

Ichigo nods, and she looks relieved until he leers. “Privacy is best.” He leans in close, brushes his nose across her cheek, ghosts his lips over her ear, and buries his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. “You smell incredible,” he groans.

Orihime says something that sounds like “oh god” and her hands press against his chest, firm but not really pushing. If she is pushing, it’s not much of an effort.

She clears her throat. “K-Kurosaki-kun?”

“Hm?” he says against her ear.

“D-Did you touch anything o-or… eat anything at Urahara’s shop?”

His fingers trace her cheekbone as he answers. “Some chocolate. Do you want some?”

“I…” Her hands are definitely pushing on him now, and he reluctantly leans back, still smiling at her purple face. “I would, actually.”

“Maybe some other time,” he murmurs. He is just discovering how soft the skin on her arm is, and chocolate is the furthest thing from his mind.

“Oh, b-but, I think, um… there’s this really p-private place at the shop.”

His eyebrows lift in interest. “Private?”

“Super private! And closer.”

He leers again. “Eager, Inoue?”

A really strange noise is trying to struggle its way out of her throat, but she tamps it down with lips pressed and nods.

“Well then, what are we waiting for?”

When she’s given the room, she nearly leaps away and begins to walk quickly back in the direction they came. But Ichigo is having none of that, and immediately catches up with her, draping an arm across her shoulders and holding her close. He grins at her sputtered, half-hearted protests.

They reach the shop, and Orihime struggles to open the door and walk in with him draped over her. He could make it easier on her, but he’s a bit too busy smelling her hair.

“Oh my,” Urahara says.

Ichigo frowns at the intrusion and glares at the shocked shop owner.

“U-Urahara-san, I think,” she grunts, and he wonders if he’s leaning on her too heavily. But she’s so warm and soft, it’s difficult to not want to simply drown in her. “I think Kurosaki-kun ate something funny.”

“Oh? Here?”

“Where’s the private room?” Ichigo asks.

Orihime groans. “H-He said he ate chocolate?”

Urahara stares for a moment and then picks up the bowl of chocolates on the counter and sniffs delicately. After a moment, he puts it back and smiles sheepishly. “Whoops.”

“Whoops?” she asks as she pushes at a wandering hand.

“Someone switched the chocolates. Terribly sorry, I’ll be right back with the antidote.”

“Hurry!” she called after him.

“Room,” Ichigo growls, impatient with meaningless talk of chocolate and antidotes.

“J-Just wait a second, Kurosaki-kun.”

“Okay.” He blinks. “It’s been a second, let’s go.”

He grabs her by the waist, lifts her up, and slings her over his shoulder, grinning at her squeals.

“Oh dear,” Urahara says as he re-enters, holding a single chocolate.

“She said there’s a private room here?”

“Uh…”

“Wait!” his captive screams. “Chocolate?”

“Right here, Inoue-san.”

“K-Kurosaki-kun, I… let’s have some more chocolate, okay?”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Um… I just… really, really want chocolate?”

After a moment, Ichigo sighs and lets her slip down the length of his body just until her toes reach the floor. She tries to move away, but he clamps his arm around her, holding her close. He watches impatiently as she holds her hand out towards Urahara, who places the piece of chocolate, similar to the one he ate earlier, in her hand.

He’s confused when she offers it to him. “I thought you were the one who wanted—”

“I do! I do, but… I thought… I thought… you should try it first.”

He raises his eyebrow. “But he only brought one.”

Her face looks like it’s about to explode. “I… know…”

“Inoue-san!” Urahara gasps.

Realization hits him and he grins like a loon. “I see. Okay, but only if you feed it to me.”

Her nervous eyes flutter up to his, and with a shaky hand, she brings the candy to his mouth carefully pressing it in with one finger, which he kisses. lightly licking off the trace of chocolate. She bites her lip and looks like she’s in great pain.

The chocolate hits his tongue, and he feels tingling again that shoots up to his brain.

And then he crashes off of the cloud he hadn’t even known he’d been riding and hits planet earth with a force that nearly knocks the breath from him. All he can think is oh no, oh god, oh fuck.

Slowly, carefully, his hold on Orihime loosens. She quietly steps away, but he can feel her eyes on him.

“Urahara?” he begins, the mortified cursing still running around in his head. “What was that?”

A nervous laugh sounds. “Oh, well, that is an invention of my own. It makes a person rather amorous towards the person they l—”

“Urahara?” he interrupts.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to murder you in your bed.”

“Ah, good. All is back to normal.”

“Um, I-Inoue?”

“Y-Yes?”

“I, uh, well, I think you should know, and don’t take this personally, but um, I don’t think I’ll be able to look you in the eye for a while.”

“I understand completely, Kurosaki-kun.”

The classroom was silent except for the occasional rustle of papers. Sometimes she wondered if she was a little too diligent in getting her homework done; she really should pace herself so she’d have something to do other than doodle during study hour. But then, what else would she do in the evenings, she thought gloomily and then with a few shakes of her head, warded off the encroaching depression.

Her forehead crinkled when she heard hissing. It made her pencil want to draw a snake, but she hated drawing snakes; they always turned out looking more like squashed earthworms. Maybe she should try drawing them coiling instead of slithering…

The hissing was starting to sound suspiciously like her name.

“Inoue!” the snake hissed loudly.

All heads turned, and she blinked at the orange-headed frowning snake with two bright spot forming on his cheeks.

“Kurosaki-kun?” she hissed back.

The snoozing teacher snorted and hacked, but thankfully didn’t rouse.

With a nervous glance at the slumbering guardian and a few pointed scowls at some curious classmates, he crept over to her desk and squatted down next to her. She stared at him and futilely struggled to fight the blush that crept over her face at his close proximity.

“Wh—” she quietly cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh,” he bounced on the balls of his feet a little and scratched his cheek. “Well, I was wondering if I could borrow your Biology book? We’ve got homework due next period and I forgot and… apparently everyone else in my class forgot too… but I figured you usually have your homework done?” He blinked up at her hopefully, looking very much like a frown-y, pleading puppy.

Orihime swallowed; and then wondered if she should be flattered that he thought of her and her work ethic or despair that he knew of her lack of social life and therefore of course she would have it done. Not that she didn’t have a social life, she did! Just… not much of one. More than she used to, but when most of one’s friends have families of their own and Chad can’t come over every night she’s alone and Uryuu is a stubborn asocial constantly-in-denial butthead (she loved him dearly, but honestly, would one night of Scrabble and snacks once in a while really kill him?) then one’s social life became a bit limited.

She pulled herself from her thoughts and realized her intruder was smiling a little and looking at her doodles. He looked back up at her and said, “Cute.”

Her hands were suddenly flying into her bag to retrieve the heavy textbook as she recited a firm, scolding mantra to her pounding heart: he meant doodles not you. Doodles not you. Doodles not you.

“Here you go!” she whispered loudly, hoping he took her franticness for her usual ever-eager-to-help-girl-scout-salute attitude.

He barely caught the book that was practically thrown at him, rocking back on his heels a little. She eyeballed his hand that reached out to grab her desk for balance—hands really had no business being that attractive. They were just hands, for heaven’s sake.

Ichigo stood up while thanking her, but shifted a little and didn’t leave right away. She would almost say he was lingering, but that would be silly. Her neck craned to look up at him and saw he was tilting his head, examining her drawings. It didn’t help her pounding heart at all when he leaned over to point at something, his arm brushing her shoulder.

“What’s that?”

Orihime tore her gaze from his face and looked to where his finger (again, why does a finger need to be attractive?) was pointing.

“It’s a dragon,” she said.

“I know, but—”

“Ah, the wheels?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, dragons mostly fly right? I figured they can’t actually walk very well. Kind of like chickens, only in reverse. So, why not give them wheels so they can get around easier on the ground? I think it makes them a bit more approachable too. Who is going to run screaming from a big adorable lizard on squeaky, rainbow wheels? It would do wonders for dragon public relations.”

She looked up again when his body started shaking and grinned happily at the little puffs of air coming out of his nose from held back laughter. Kurosaki Ichigo laughing was a very rare thing, and it immediately chased out any remaining gloomy thoughts.

He quickly reined himself in and gave her a fond look—which made her heart melt into her shoes—and told her he would get it back to her later. She nodded and rested her chin in her hand, watching him leave and envying her textbook tucked under his arm just a little. As she looked at her textbook, something niggled at the back of her brain—something she was forgetting…

“Psst, Orihime-chan.”

She turned around to see an eager classmate of hers waving at her. “Yes?”

“Is that your boyfriend?”

Orihime blushed. “Um, no. A friend. Without the boy part. Well, I mean of course he’s a boy, but—”

“Is he single?”

“Um…”

“Wasn’t that Kurosaki Ichigo?” another girl said. “I heard he’s a gangster or something. That hair…”

Orihime opened her mouth to defend her friend, but yet another girl piped up.

“Maybe he’s going for the pop idol look? He certainly didn’t look scary.”

“I used to have a class with him, and he was always frowning and giving people dirty looks, but lately…”

“I know right? He gives off a different vibe. And just now… did you see him smile? I’ve never seen him do that before.”

“He’s—”

“Gorgeous.”

Orihime turned back around as the girls sighed and chatted some more about the school’s “reformed bad boy”. She let out a sigh of her own, feeling more miserable than dreamy, though she couldn’t quite say why. Maybe because they were referring to Ichigo as a bad boy which he wasn’t and never had been, but she was hesitant to correct them since they seemed more than a little enamored with the idea.

“I remember hearing that he killed someone, though.”

There were shocked gasps and exclamations, and Orihime’s hesitancy left her in a rush. Without thinking, she whipped around and whispered sternly, “Kurosaki-kun is brave and noble and a good friend and the kindest person I know, so I… I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t spread rumors about him.”

For a beat, their faces were frozen in shock before melting into regret.

“W-We’re sorry, Orihime-chan.”

“Yeah, we were just talking and weren’t thinking…”

“If Inoue-san vouches for him, he must be okay.”

There were murmurings of agreement.

Orihime’s face softened; she hadn’t even realized she’d been glaring. With a nod and a grateful, reassuring smile, she faced forward again. She frowned a little when she realized she may have done damage to his reputation; but then, he was never clear on what exactly that reputation was. Surely not the gangster type that killed people. Whatever the case, she certainly wasn’t going to let a rumor spread that he was a cold-blooded killer; not on her watch, no sir.

She took a deep breath, and refocused on her creations. She’d no more relaxed when the niggling came back to bother her. She frowned at its insistence; the niggle told her that she was forgetting something extremely important. Homework she’d forgotten? No, it felt like something of life-altering importance. Her pencil tapped at her dragon on wheels as she went back in her mind to the events of Ichigo borrowing her textboo—

Her sudden gasp was so loud and harsh she started coughing and sputtering on swallowed air, stirring the teacher to mumble “silence, you teenage bums” before thick lips flapped and fluttered back into sleep.

Her textbook.

She rested her head in her hands as heat covered her face and neck. A vision floated past her closed eyelids: Kurosaki Ichigo written in flourishing letters surrounded by cutesy drawings and… oh no, there were hearts. She distinctly remembered several awful, horrifying, evil little hearts. The urge to moan and scream was barely tamped down; it probably helped that her entire body felt too numb to even move.

“Are you okay, Inoue-san?” a concerned student whispered.

She lifted her face out of her hands and gave her classmate a strained smile. “Peachy. Just… remembered something I forgot to do. It’s silly. It’s fine. Really.” A nervous laugh punctuated her assurances for good measure.

Concerned Student looked even more concerned, but decided to let it go and leave Orihime to her silent freak out.

How could she be so dumb? Doodling in a textbook. Doodling in the one textbook her crush borrowed. Doodling of all things his name. With hearts.

She hated doodling. Hated the word doodling. Awful, awful word.

If there was ever a time for the earth beneath her feet to open wide, swallow her, and digest her in its molten lava depths, now was the perfect time.

She waited for a couple of minutes while she fiercely prayed.

When the floor didn’t so much as crack, she began to wrack her brain. She would need an explanation ready for when he gave her funny looks later; because there was no way he would miss it. Even if he did, she couldn’t relax on the tiny chance that he would somehow not see it. She needed a plan. She was good with plans. She was also good with hiding her feelings from Ichigo. She could do this.

A tiny voice in the back of her mind suggested that she take the opportunity to tell Ichigo how she felt about him; the rest of her mind laughed so hard that the tiny voice was sent back into its dark corner, cowering.

She could quickly write the names of all her friends in all her textbooks: This is what I do, Kurosaki-kun, and I line up my textbooks and pretend they’re all of my friends. We have very nice chats.

Except that for one, that was further down the crazy road than even she was willing to travel; for another, that was defacing school property. She had done it once, but that was absent-mindedly. She couldn’t bring herself to do it again, especially for such a silly reason.

Oh, that’s not my work. Someone else must have done that. I lend my books out all the time, you know.

Too bad she was fairly certain he would recognize her handwriting; double too bad she was now completely certain he would recognize her artwork.

I heard you’re playing for the basketball team this week! I thought I’d make you a banner in support and was practicing and mistook my textbook for my notebook (cue nervous laugh track).

Not too shabby, except that it would seem odd since he had been selling his services for months and she had never done anything besides pop by to watch the occasional game when she wasn’t working or doing club activities of her own. He might buy it though… Maybe if she told him she had done it at the first of the year because she thought he was joining a team, not all the teams. When she realized her mistake, she scratched the idea.

She was also going to have to scratch this idea, though; because as much as she wished she could, she couldn’t outright lie to him. He was her friend…

Orihime groaned as quietly as she could manage and rested her forehead on her desk. She was doomed. That was all there was to it. Completely and utterly doomed.

Ichigo finally finished his homework just in time for the next class to begin; homework that he hadn’t paid a whole lot of attention to because he was busier running through all the reasons why Orihime would have doodled his name in her textbook with—he paused to double check the flourished doodle for the umpteenth time—with hearts.

The teacher droned a bit and when he noticed papers passing, he flicked his paper to the person in front of him.

He wasn’t an imbecile, he knew why a girl might write down a guy’s name with hearts, but that couldn’t be Orihime’s reason. Besides, it was Orihime. When did she ever follow convention?

“Dude, what the hell?”

Ichigo scowled up at the person in front of him waving a paper. “What?”

“Since when is your name Inoue Orihime?”

He blinked and grabbed his homework. Sure enough, he’d written Orihime’s name where his should be. With a lot of grumbling and a low curse he quickly erased it and put in his own name as his classmate whined about getting him all excited that the Karakura Princess had transferred to his class.

His eyebrows frowned so hard by the time he handed the paper back, he could barely see.

The bold classmate whispered back to him, “Hey, you gotta crush on her or somethin’?”

Ichigo gave him what he hoped was a very scary glare, but the guy just raised his hands defensively. “It’s no big deal, join the club. We’ve got gals and guys of all kinds, might as well add a money-grubbing punk to the mix.”

The Inoue Orihime Fan Club member shrugged at Ichigo’s sneer and turned back to face the front when the teacher barked at them.

A light bulb went on in his head. He’d accidentally written her name down because he had been thinking about a problem concerning her. That was it, nothing earth-shattering. Only a bit of good old fashioned worrying about something relating to a friend, nothing to do with having a crush on her.

(Side note: he did have a crush on his bubbly friend—had been nursing it for quite some time, actually; but he preferred to keep that under wraps 99.9% of the time. Under layers and layers of wraps until his crush was relatively the size of a pea and no princess, especially not the Karakura Princess, would ever be able to find it. It held zero relevancy to the matter at hand, anyway.)

In conclusion, Orihime had been intently thinking about him and had absently written his name. The hearts… well… she doodled. The hearts were random. She could have doodled ice-skating crickets, but hearts absently fell from her pencil as absently as she’d written his name. That it was in a textbook was very telling as the Inoue Orihime he knew would never consciously deface school property.

Add to all that the fact that she let him have her textbook, it obviously didn’t matter to her that much. Later, she will probably cheerfully take the book from him and if she notices her doodle, she will be more upset about the defacing thing and not give him and what he thought more than an indifferent shrug.

Ichigo’s chin scrunched in satisfaction, and he ignored that he actually felt worse after coming to his conclusion.

“Orihime,” Tatsuki said after listening to her friend’s Problem. “I feel it is my duty to inform that you are not good at hiding your feelings for the idiot.”

“But—”

“I know, I know, but honestly? I think he knows. He’s just buried it somewhere and convinced himself he doesn’t know. But even he won’t be able to avoid the truth literally staring him in the face.”

Orihime groaned. “Wh-Why are you grinning, Tatsuki-chan?”

“‘Cause you’re finally gonna bag the brute!”

Keigo was feeling just a tad excited because Ichigo had initiated a conversation with him in the hallways. In front of everyone. A conversation. And “a tad excited” for Keigo meant that he was literally bouncing from foot to foot.

“Hypothetically…” Ichigo began.

“Yes, yes?”

“If a girl writes someone’s name in a notebook or textbook or wherever…”

“Mhmm?”

“And it’s surrounded with drawings of, oh for example, hearts…”

“Hearts, got it.”

Ichigo cleared his throat. “What would that mean, do you think?”

Keigo gasped. “A girl wrote your name in her notebook? A real girl? You?” He stopped bouncing so his jaw could land on the floor. “Hearts?”

“I was actually counting on you not to be smart.”

“Oh. My. God.”

Ichigo sighed and pushed Keigo’s invading face away from his own. “Forget it. And don’t tell anyone about this!”

“So,” Mizuiro began. “I hear—”

Ichigo interrupted him with a loud “ugh”.

“Who’s the girl?”

“It was supposed to be a hypothetical.”

“Well, obviously, this hypothetical girl has a major hypothetical crush on hypothetical you.”

“There’s no way she likes me like that,” Ichigo muttered before turning narrowed eyes on Mizuiro. “Also, never telling you and if you dare breathe a word…”

Mizuiro held up one hand as the other pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Gossip is an evil sin as far as I’m concerned.”

By the last period, the entire school was buzzing about the mystery girl who had a crush on scary, trouble-making Kurosaki Ichigo and had scribbled his name in her notebook—which quickly escalated to writing her name with his inside a heart to writing her name with his surname to writing his name with her surname to Kurosaki actually being the one who cutely doodled the name of his crush.

Orihime found herself pleadingly gazing down at the floor when she discovered a crack in the hallway. It was her only hope, now.

Ichigo, despite the entire school being of a different opinion, stubbornly held onto the belief that there was no way Orihime had a crush on him. He didn’t know why everyone had to take simple little things and blow them out of proportion. Didn’t they have tv dramas to feed their thirst for this kind of thing?

When Ichigo left the classroom after the final chime, the entire school seemed to be stalking him. Why, he had no idea. What did they expect would happen?

He considered that maybe this wasn’t the best time to return Orihime’s textbook to her, but shook off that thought. If she felt nothing like that for him, which he was sure about, then why hide? He was simply returning something borrowed, the school had no way of knowing that it was the textbook where he’d found the doodle. Orihime would act like she always did, probably wonder out loud about his entourage and ask him if he was going to be on tv again. His stalkers would grumble in disappointment and they’d all go home and never speak of this again.

As he continued down the hall, the source of his trouble suddenly appeared around the corner, making his heart stop and then pound.

“Inoue!” he called, wincing at his overly loud voice. The crowd behind him sucked in a collective gasp, and he winced again.

Her focus snapped to his face and her eyes went wide and her cheeks turned bright red.

It was only because of the embarrassing rumors, he told himself. She heard about the rumors and remembered what was in the textbook, and she’s just embarrassed.

“K-K-Kurosaki-kun!” she squeaked.

He stared at her for a moment. It had been a long time since she had stuttered like that around him. Blinking away any stray thoughts, he reached into his bag, frowned as he ignored the breathing down his neck, and lifted out the textbook to hand to her.

The red in her cheeks spread to the rest of her face and then down her neck. Apparently, it was contagious because he could feel his ears then neck then cheeks turning just as red.

“Uh,” he waved the textbook towards her. “Th-Thanks for letting me borrow you’re, uh, book.”

She stared at the book in his hand as if it were a viper.

All he had wanted was to do his homework. Just trying to be a good student, and look what it gets him.

“Inoue?”

“A-Ah, yeah. Thank you. I mean, you’re welcome.” She snatched the book from his hand, tried to shove it in her bag, and dropped it to the floor with a bang. “Um.” She picked it up and carefully put it in her bag. “Well. See you.”

Ichigo nodded. “See ya.”

He had barely gotten his words out before she spun on her heel and sprinted down the hall.

The crowd began muttering.

“Inoue Orihime? She’s the girl? But that’s impossible!”

“It has to be a mistake.”

“Didn’t the rumor say notebook? That was a textbook.”

“Inoue-san is a model student, she wouldn’t write stuff like that in a textbook.”

“It’s definitely a mistake.”

Ichigo gave the crowd his best death glare, but they were unfazed as they continued to speculate and scoff. Emphasis on scoff. And while Ichigo kind of agreed with them, he couldn’t help but bristle. He wasn’t that bad.

He started to saunter down the hallway, intent on leaving this asylum, until he froze mid-stride. The crowd. Inoue hadn’t said a word about them. Why hadn’t she said anything? She would have made a joke or come up with some story or—in fact, she hadn’t said much at all. Which was extremely unusual as she always had something to chat about after school. She had barely even looked at him.

In all the fuss, Ichigo forgot that she hadn’t acted at all how he had expected. That was not normal Orihime. And if that wasn’t normal Orihime then his theory was shot to pieces. That would have to mean—

“Literally staring you in the face, Ichigo. What is it gonna take, honestly.”

Ichigo looked down at the irritated face of Tatsuki, and then before his brain could catch up, his legs broke into a dead run, leaving behind a shocked and disgruntled school body.

He was outside the school building before he caught sight of her retreating figure. “Inoue! Wait up, I—no, why are you running faster?—Inoue!” Holding tightly onto his bag, he sped up to a sprint. His long legs finally overtook her, and he grabbed her arm, spinning them both until they came to a stop, facing each other.

“Inoue—”

His breath caught at the wild, panicked look in her brown eyes—eyes brightened by a worrying sheen.

“Kuro…” She trailed off as her brow furrowed and her eyes dropped to his chest. Her eyes blinked a few times before looking back at up him, the sheen gone; an unnatural smile forcibly sliced across her face. “Forget something?”

Startled, Ichigo suddenly felt at a loss. She had switched gears, and he didn’t know how to get back. Or if he wanted to get back. Or even what exactly he needed to get back to. His brain still hadn’t caught up with the rest of him.

“You know,” he said, his words tumbling out. “I… I was thinking about you earlier.” Her red face got a little redder and her smile fell as she pressed her lips together. “And… it was the weirdest thing.” He scratched at the back of his head. “You’ll find this funny,” he said awkwardly. “I actually wrote your name on my homework instead of mine.”

He forced one corner of his mouth to go up and watched as her eyes widened.

“Maybe not that funny,” he muttered. “Uh, anyway. I guess, ‘cause I was thinking about you so much, I subconsciously wrote your name. No doodles or anything, I don’t really draw… but I figured it… when you…” He gestured towards her bag and noticed how she held it closer to her body. “It was the same thing, right? My name… in your… uh…” His gaze dropped to where she began nibbling her bottom lip. “Book. Your textbook. You were… thinking about me or probably worrying about me and subconsciously wrote my name? Isn’t it… funny we both did that?”

Her eyes dropped a bit before she nodded, but not before he saw disappointment flash across them. He could have been mistaken… but no… He had planned on giving her a way out, a way to make sure their friendship stayed on track; but the stilted words continued and he was almost helpless to stop them.

“But it’s… it wasn’t quite the same was it?” Her eyes flashed back up to his face. “I mean… What I’m trying to say is… you weren’t worrying about me… as a friend. Or thinking about me… as a friend.” His knew his face was as red as hers at this point. “It was something else, wasn’t it?”

Her mouth immediately opened and then closed again; her eyes darted about as her face got impossibly more red.

And in a moment of clarity unclouded by his usual vehement denial, Ichigo knew exactly what she was about to do.

She was going to lie to him.

His pounding heart sped up and rammed against its cage. It confirmed everything. The only reason she would feel a need to lie to him is—

“I don’t—”

“Because,” he said, quickly interrupting her. “If it is something else, that’d be… convenient.” Convenient? “Good. I mean, great. Really, really—damn it.”

Her nervous eyes stilled and slowly lifted to meet his.

Ichigo swallowed. “Because… it’s something else with me, so…”

Her lips parted and her eyes grew wide in disbelief.

Ichigo watched her closely. “Am I… Am I making any sense, to you?”

She jerked her head in a few nods. “I… I think so…”

“Good, great.” Better than great. “Um, so… it’s getting pretty late.” He paused to glance around, checking for anything or anyone that would interrupt this again. This was important, this time. He looked back down at her, smiled a little at her shocked brown eyes still searching his face. “Inoue, can I walk you home?”

She blinked up at him for a while until her face relaxed and her slow but brilliant smile made his heart perform somersaults.

“Yes, Kurosaki-kun, you can walk me home.”

Orihime shyly adjusted her bag and began to walk towards her home; Ichigo easily fell into step next to her, their hands dangling free between them.

After a couple of minutes, Ichigo was relieved to feel his blush finally start to go down.

And then he felt her warm hand slip into his, and the blood cheerfully rushed back to splotch his skin. He cleared his throat and firmly returned her hold. Glancing down at her, he smiled a little when he saw she was sneaking a glance of her own. She bit her lip and smiled as she looked forward.

“Um, I don’t think…” Orihime began. “Just so it’s clear, it was something else with me too.”

Ichigo was sure that his chest would burst any second now and make a huge mess. “Well,” he coughed. “There were a lot of hearts. Bit of a giveaway.”

She snorted an embarrassed laugh and lightly ran her shoulder into his arm.

Ichigo smirked, guided her away from a telephone pole, and linked his fingers with hers.

He looked around the area she had insisted on dragging him to. The place was quite pretty, he supposed, what with the waterfall and the flowers and the birds singing and such. But he had no idea why she felt she needed to tow him here now of all times. Not that he didn’t enjoy spending extra precious time with Rukia, but he really had work to do.

He had told her as much, but she had just grumped at him and told him that no, what she had to say couldn’t wait and that if he didn’t come with her, she would never speak to him again.

Renji didn’t believe her ultimatum for a second, but he followed her since she did not usually resort to such dramatic tactics, so this must be important. Besides, it couldn’t take more than a minute for her to say what she had to say.

At least five minutes after they had arrived, they were still standing there and Rukia had not said a word except to yell at him to shut up whenever he tried to say something. She had even glared when he had scratched the back of his head. So he quietly stood, arms crossed, careful to keep his foot from tapping.

Also, she was wearing a dress—a pretty white thing with tiny blue flowers. There was even a blue and white flower pinned in her hair. Which was not all that unusual since it was her day off and Rukia liked dresses, but she just looked a little more... dressy than usual. Like she had put in extra effort, sprinkled a little fairy dust on her already beautiful self. She was like that—perpetually lovely, like a star, but every so often, like a star, she would be especially brilliant.

Renji held back a sigh. She was making him think kooky thoughts while he was forced to just stand around and watch her nerve-wracking behavior. Theoretically, he could gladly stay here and watch her all day no matter how bizarre she was being; but in actuality, he had responsibilities to get to and things he had to do. Surely she of all people understood that.

He scowled at that thought.

Wasn’t that one of those things that always kept them apart though? Either or both of them always had things to do, after life career ladders to climb, captains to best, noble families to join, baddies to battle, battles to train for, human punks to save. And the two of them were always so thoroughly understanding of each other, putting on happy smiles and giving congratulatory handshakes. All the while, their bond got a million little tatters and fractures until it felt like the slightest breeze would softly topple it, carrying the dust and debris off into unreachable dimensions before either of them realized, or maybe even cared, what had happened.

They had mended it, sure, and they were closer than ever; but he couldn’t get away from the old fear that was usually content to stay in some dark corner, yet always eager to rise up again if given the opportunity. It was always there to encourage his fears that something someone might some day take her away again, mocking him while they whisked his lady away from his clumsy paws because, you big idiot, you had your chance and you wasted it. Twice.

Renji deadpanned at a nearby bush. He seriously needed to get out of here before he became a complete melancholic poet. His brow furrowed thoughtfully. Who was that guy Ichigo admired so much? Rattlelance? No, he was pretty sure it started with an ‘s’. Shakespoon? No...

“All right!”

He nearly leapt clear out of his skin at her sudden proclamation, his focus returning to her face. She was in full battle-stance. Which would have been a little funny in her pretty dress, except that Rukia was never funny in battle-mode. He gulped and watched her warily, having zero predictions at this moment.

“Here’s the thing, Abarai Renji.”

He held his breath. Using his full name was not a good sign.

“I’m in love with you.”

Renji froze, blinked, and wondered how the hell the birds could continue twittering so cheerfully when the world they were all dwelling in was currently tilt, tilt, tilting until soon it would be completely upside down.

Her chin snapped up a little higher. There wasn’t even a trace of blush on her cheeks. Her neck was looking a shade or two off, however. “I just thought you should know that.”

He was aware that his head was doing some sort of a drunken semi-circle nod. Maybe he was drunk and this was all some alcohol-infused illusion. Except that he knew this was the middle of the day on a work day, and he valued his life too much to try and pull that on his captain. Rangiku may think it well worth mountains of paper work, but he heartily disagreed.

Rukia looked down at her dress and tugged at the skirt. Her lips pressed together. She looked annoyed.

“Well, anyway. You have things to do.” She gave him a noblewoman’s flippant wave of her hand and frowned towards the waterfall. “You may go.”

Now it was Renji’s turn to stand around and make funny faces. When he finally found his voice after a series of fish-like motions with his mouth, he said, “Could you say that again?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You may go.”

“No, the other thing. The... big thing.”

Rukia sighed impatiently and repeated, “I’m in love with you.”

He licked at his lips. “And by ‘I’m’, you mean you, Kuchiki Rukia.”

She slowly nodded.

“And by ‘you’, you mean me, Abarai Renji.”

She narrowed her eyes, but nodded again.

“And by ‘in love’, you mean... in love. Not love as friends or sibling love or anything like that, but… love.”

Her eyelids fell halfway to stare at him stonily. “I’m beginning to reconsider it, but yes, that’s what I meant.”

He listened to the birds and the waterfall for a few moments. “Can I kiss you, then?”

She blinked and the colors at her neck began to rise up to her cheeks. “Well, I suppose that would... wait.” Rukia frowned at him suspiciously. “Why do you want to kiss me?”

“Why? What do you mean why? You just confessed that you’re in love with me, that’s why!”

She flinched. “Again, a feeling I’m reconsidering considering the idiotic male my heart has decided to attach itself to.” With a sigh, she crossed her arms, her feet spaced wide. “My feelings have little to do with your reasons for wanting to kiss me.”

“What? They have everything to do with it!” He could hear himself sounding a little panicky. But why was she stalling? This was all so unreal, he felt he should grab the opportunity before Rukia recalled that the idea of a star loving a dog was insane and should be stopped.

“I have come to realize that I have strong romantic feelings for you, but all I know from you is that you have enough attraction towards me to want to kiss me. And it seems, from my point of view, that most men would like to kiss most passably pretty women of their acquaintance. So that means little to me. I’m not about to let you take certain advantages just because I confessed to certain feelings.”

He stared at her, and she stared back. “But... I love you, too, Rukia.” He almost felt like adding a didn’t you know to it. It had so long been a part of who he was—not just a feeling or a thought but a literal almost physical part of him… He wanted to scream that of course he wants to kiss her because of course he loves her. Fact: his hair is red. Fact more… fact-y than his hair being red or his eyes being a little beady or there being a secret stash of horrible love poems written about Rukia in his quarters: Renji loves Rukia. A fact so big and so sure that he forgot he had to speak it.

Her eyelashes fluttered once, and then kept fluttering, her eyes growing bigger by the second until they resembled dinner plates. “You do?”

Renji nodded, struggling to seem remotely cool and manly despite the feeling of a dam having broken in his chest. He suddenly wanted to show her every single thought and feeling that he had kept tightly tucked away for decades. “I’ve loved you for a very long time.” He was vaguely aware of taking a step towards her and hoarsely whispering her name.

But then she was frowning again and held a hand up to stay him.

“You said ‘for a very long time’?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

Renji cleared his throat. “Uh, decades?”

Her temper immediately flared up and overwhelmed the peaceful little clearing.

“What?!”

He winced, wondering what was so wrong about that, besides being pathetically embarrassing for him. And wasn’t that at least a little romantic? Or flattering, maybe? Didn’t women love this kind of thing? Her head lowered until he couldn’t see her eyes.

“Do you mean to tell me that you have had feelings for me this whole time and realized them and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Well, yeah, but I-”

“You bastard,” she hissed.

His eyes went wide at her venom and the daggers that were coming from her eyes when she lifted her head to look up at him. She jabbed her finger at his chest. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve agonized over my feelings? How long I debated whether I should tell you?” She stopped poking his chest to wave her hand in a large arc towards the waterfall, and then gesturing at her dress as she spoke. “How much effort I put in to getting the confessing scene right?”

Renji looked around, then back down at her. Confessing scene?

Rukia straightened her back, arms akimbo. “And you tell me that you have been sitting on your feelings all this time and not doing a damn thing about it? Not telling me or even giving a hint of what you felt? Just hiding them away, probably moping around like some martyr?”

He opened his mouth, but then closed it again. He tried to get angry, tell her that he hadn’t exactly been enjoying himself by hiding his feelings. Tell her that he had lived with this agony so long, it was one of his closest friends and that she probably couldn’t say as much about her agony. Hers was probably more of a familiar acquaintance. But he couldn’t get angry, he just felt wretched. Because why had he hid his feelings in the first place? Not only because of a fear of rejection or of ruining their friendship, but to keep her from feeling confused and prevent her from anymore pain. He didn’t want her worrying about him and his feelings every time they were together.

But all that was for nothing because here she was, angry because she had been confused and in pain. The last thing he ever wanted to do was cause her even an iota of the agony he had gone through.

“Rukia, I-”

“Damn it, Renji!”

She looked away, squinted her eyes, and set her lips in a thin line. That set of actions was oh too recognizable to him, and his insides began to tear. It was what she did when she was concentrating on not letting even one tear escape.

There was only one thing he could think to say, and then he would commit to following up that statement for the rest of his life. “Rukia, I’m sorry,” he said with a crack in his voice in match the one in his heart.

Her head whipped back around, ready to glare and probably say something scathing, but her expression suddenly softened. Her big violet eyes were making little darting movements like she was catching every nook and cranny of his face, and he could almost see something fall into place in her brain. Her soft expression took a turn for the land of regret and apology.

There was a definite shift in the air and he felt like he should say something else.

“Can I kiss you now?”

That hadn’t been at all what he wanted to say, but amazingly, she nodded.

Renji sent up a quick prayer that he wouldn’t screw this up, and stepped closer to her, reaching out to cup the side of her face in his palm, his fingers sliding into her short hair. She looked so small, and his shaky hand looked so big. He tilted her head up as he bent his body, lowering his face until he could feel her breath on his lips.

He hesitated and looked into her eyes—they were wide and expectant—and then he finally kissed her. It was a simple, soft pressing of lips. He had waited too long for this, and so he had no intention of rushing it. His hand held her head a little more firmly, and his other hand found her arm, running the length of soft skin until he found her hand. He gently held it as he took in the feel of her lips kissing him back, the little increase in her height as she stood on her tiptoes, her warmth, and simply being able to hold her like this.

Renji didn’t even want to think about the maelstrom of thoughts and feelings that were probably coursing through him somewhere—things he wanted to tell her, show her, ask her. He ignored it all, and just concentrated on the enormity of kissing Rukia and her returning the gesture. The other things could wait.

He pulled away, not wanting to overwhelm her, and watched as she slowly opened her eyes to look at him. She blinked away the glaze clouding her eyes and his heart hitched as a warm smile eased over her face.

“Well,” she said, her words coming out a bit breathless. “Shall I ask you out on a date or you going to do the honors?”

He swallowed thickly as her arms came around his waist. “D-Date?”

“Yes, I believe that’s what we’re supposed to do next.”

“Shouldn’t I… I mean, you’re a noble… Shouldn’t I court you or something?”

One corner of her her mouth twitched up. “Renji, do you even know how to court someone?”

“Well, no, but I could learn.”

“Besides, courting is something you do with the intention of marriage.”

“I know.”

Her eyes grew big again. “Oh.”

Renji cleared his throat and silently cursed his mouth. “Sorry, I—”

“No,” she quickly said, and hugged him tighter as if worried he might run away and pressed her ear to his chest where his heart was pounding at an unnatural rate and had been for several minutes now. “Don’t be sorry,” she whispered.

He rested his hand on her head, his fingers softly stroking her hair. “Rukia—”

“So no courting nonsense, I would rather… date. Like they do in the human world. It looks like fun.”

“Okay.” He gently pulled her away from his chest and smiled gently at her pink face. “Kuchiki Rukia, would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?” He added after a moment, “Tonight?”

Rukia pressed her lips together while her eyes twinkled. “So formal. It’s just me, you know.”

His smile fell as he regarded her seriously and cupped the side of her face. “Nah,” he said as his thumb stroked her cheekbone. “Not just you. It’s never been just you.”

Her face turned bright red and she quickly buried it into his chest, hugging him tightly. “You’re going to be embarrassingly romantic, aren’t you?”

Renji smirked. “Yup.”

She sighed, probably trying to sound exasperated, but the contentment was clear to both of them.

He had the urge to kiss the top of her head, and then the happy thought came to him that he could kiss the top of her head, so he did. All those urges he constantly had to battle to hold her or kiss her or say something stupidly sappy… he didn’t have to battle them anymore. He held her closer at that thought until too many minutes had passed and they had to go their separate ways on their separate clouds.

A bit later, Byakuya looked up from his desk and raised an eyebrow when Rukia floated past his office with a dreamy look on her face, not even stopping to greet him. Nearly an hour after that, both eyebrows lifted when his lieutenant floated by with a matching dreamy look.