Straight from fanfiction.net. I’m too lazy to separate my two longest/complete works into chapters. It’s too troublesome. It’s complete with Author’s Notes.
Title: Your Fading Starlight
Category: Anime/Manga » Bleach
Author: The Crafty Cracker
Language: English, Rating: Rated: M
Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort
Published: 08-20-09, Updated: 12-21-13
Chapters: 36, Words: 183,431
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Orihime is a girl who struggled to live in the streets of Inuzuri – the poorest district in all of Edo. There, she stayed, living a life of an impoverished folk, and finding her way out of misery through her best friends Tatsuki and Renji, and her wonderful “adopted” little siblings, Jinta and Ururu.
But the townsfolk, whom Orihime owes a big debt to, were now after her to claim their money, and she desperately sought ways to pay them back.
Until one day, she agreed to a mysterious man named Urahara Kisuke to sell herself to a rich man just to save her friends.
And what will she do if her new owner forces her to marry him?!
Your Fading Starlight
Chapter 1
Balancing Forces
“Ow… ow… ow…” Orihime whimpered, massaging her bottom. Tears threatened to sting her eyes as she adjusted her body to put less pressure on her swollen backside. She looked at the skies above, praying for some miracle to take the pain she felt away.
She had just received three blows at the back from Mitsuhashi-san, who was forcing Jinta to work for him to pay for the cabbages they owed him. Orihime saw the big man pulling Jinta’s arm, attempting to hit the boy with a stick. Luckily, she arrived just in time to shield the little boy from the blows and instead receiving the attack.
To appease the beefy man, she agreed to be the one to work for his shop. Mitsuhashi let them off the hook for another two days. But who knows how long this temporary peace would last?
She moved to her side a little, her head still in the direction of the gaping hole on the roof, showing those twinkling stars in the heavens above. She tried counting them.I know how to count, she thought wryly. Orihime knew money, and for that, she learned how to count even when in the slums where people were considered stupid and uneducated.
Stars, she thought. Why are you all so far away? Are you trying to escape my reach?
Inoue Orihime hated the stars. She hated them for being so high above. She hated them for being within the center of peace and tranquility – safely being held by the calm and mysterious night sky. She hated them for looking down at her, showing off their glint and sparkle, winking mischievously at her as if mocking her that she could never understand what it felt like to be just like them.
She hated those stars. She hated the light they gave.
She sighed, catching a glimpse of four people who seemed to be in deep sleep, languishing about in what little space they had in this cramped ‘home’ they had.
Abarai Renji, a man with a shock of crimson hair, was lying down nearest to the door, his long mane surrounding his sharp-featured face in disarray. He was snoring slightly, huffing up a bit of the hair on his face and showing hints of the tattoos that covered his body. Covered his – everywhere. He was considered as the punk of Inuzuri and no one dared cross him, unless you want a taste of his fist and a doze of his anger.
But in their little family, Renji was gentler, and was given the role as the ‘protector.’
Next to him, a little boy with the same shade of hair slept, open-mouthed, with drool hanging on the side of his mouth. Little Jinta, the boy Orihime tried to protect. A gutsy little person with a temper that rivaled Renji’s, he was the boy whom was the ‘gang leader’ of his small group of friends in Inuzuri. But because of this, he was often in trouble. He was always caught stealing something from the stalls, or tricking the owners. And as always, his Orihime-neechan was there to save the day. But despite Jinta’s rough exterior, he would be nicest towards Orihime, often helping Renji in hard tasks just to follow her orders. He was a difficult child to take care of at first, but in a two years that Orihime has spent with the boy, he has grown more caring and helpful to others.
Beside Jinta was a girl curled up tightly, looking like a ball. She had jet black hair that was parted neatly in the middle and covered her face entirely. Orihime smiled to herself. Ururu, a shy but extremely helpful girl, was Jinta’s opposite in every way. She would often sit or help uncomplainingly even when matters grow worse and worse for them each day. She would offer Jinta her spare food, even though she was still hungry, just to feed the hyperactive boy’s dissatisfaction. Her shy smile was often seen on her face, but her eyes were cold and sad. There was something about her that seemed very fragile. But Orihime and the others who really knew Ururu knew better. This girl could be tougher than Jinta when agitated. One time, Orihime found a beaten up, beefy boy that tried to punch Jinta. She was about to scold the young boy, when Ururu timidly admitted that she was the one who did so and only did it to protect the food they gathered from the bully.
On Orihime’s other side was a girl whose black hair was cropped short with a frown slashing across her thin lips. Her form was unusually carefree as she was in her slumber, far from the always guarded and prepared stance she makes for real life. She was Orihime’s best friend, Arisawa Tatsuki. Tatsuki was a young woman unlike any other, and many people of Inuzuri seldom treat her as a female. She was tough and roguish, like a man, with discipline and principle that was hard to come by in a woman. She stood tall amongst the hard street life of the poor. Whenever she walked, she didn’t earn teasing and degrading stares from the wayward men of the slums. They feared and respected her. She could take down a man twice her size if she wanted to protect something – her friends and her dignity. She was Orihime’s loving friend, who always cheered her up in times of trouble. She was Orihime’s pillar of support – her source of strength. Orihime felt proud to have such a friend. She was mostly the reason that she could stand up now and be happy. And even when Orihime picked up two children from the sidewalks in charity, even though the three of them (Renji, Tatsuki and herself) were already struggling, Tatsuki supported her decision and even took turns to look after the two kids.
Peaceful moments like these seldom did last, and she was truly grateful for it. She didn’t want to be away from these four people whom she learned to love. Even with all the trouble that has been occuring in their daily lives – all the occasional outbursts of townfolk whom they borrowed money and asked food from, they still stuck by each other. No one leaves. One for all, all for one. It was like an unspoken code that bound them together through almost anything.
Orihime sighed contentedly and looked up at the stars once again. If I have these people who’re with me now, I would never need that sky and those stars.
She closed her eyes.
“Orihime,” a voice spoke. “What are you doing?!”
She looked up at the woman with disinterest, hiding the conflicting emotions within her. It saddened her to stay away, but she knew she needed to. She discovered something that was truly painful for her – her existence was something that should not even be realized.
“I’m keeping these away,” she replied nonchalantly.
“You have to go back to the house,” the voice convinced once more. “Your mother and father are coming home.”
“Mother and father?” she repeated. “What mother and father?”
“What are you saying?”
“What am I saying? I thought you knew,” Orihime said with a smile twisted in grief. “Do not lie, Haruka-san.”
The woman was stunned. It was the first time that darling and caring child addressed her in such a way – such a cold and uncaring way.
“Orihime…” Haruka whispered, “Orihime-sama.”
“Stop calling me like that,” Orihime said, her eyes hidden by the shadows of her hair.
With that, she turned and ran away.
Away from that life. Away from it all. She was never going back. She hated to suffer like that. She despised all of those people. She despised those faces with fake smiles, curious eyes and greedy hands. She disliked their sugar-coated words and their honeyed tongues and movements. She abhorred those actions that seem to degrade her very existence.
She ran into the night. She never glanced skywards like the way she carelessly used to. She loathed those stars that twinkle in the night sky – those high and mighty jewels of the eve, which seemed to be dazzling everyone. But she knew those stars are a sham. Those stars will never shed tears like she had. She had fallen from grace. They had fallen from grace.
Orihime woke up in a start.
That dream, she thought. That dream. What was it? Why has it been haunting me ever since the past week?
She didn’t know that face. The woman she addressed as Haruka. She wasn’t even sure if she was the girl in the dream. But she was the one talking. She wasn’t sure of that dream – it gave her a feeling of creeping uncertainty that bothered her for almost over a week now. She didn’t like the feeling at all. It was like it was something of the past.
She shook her head in silliness. How could it even possibly be? I’m poor! No one would call me ‘Orihime-sama’ and there wouldn’t be a chance in ANY of my lifetimes that I would be ever addressed that way.
Orihime had a very vague memory of anything that had happened to her before she was seven years old. But she didn’t care. She was a wanderer, and Tatsuki saved her from complete starvation and death.
Her first memory was lying down, almost lifeless, in the outskirts of Inuzuri, hunger yelling in the bottom of her stomach. Pain brutally knocked her small body as she was being stepped on by some boys who were picking at her. She groaned in protest, but in the harshly parched throat of hers, no sound escaped. She didn’t force herself to move any longer. She didn’t have the energy.
A yell and a thud – that was all she heard next. Then a pair of concerned, dark eyes that gave her hope.
Orihime sighed to herself as she pulled herself from the cold floor that was her haven every night for nine years. Rays of morning lights spilled through the holes of the ceiling, and into the window that was in front of her.
Memories of before she was seven years old? Why bother? She was perhaps too young to even remember anything. Plus, she was too hungry to even try to think about it.
She let out an energetic breath as she stood up, looking at her four companions, who were still asleep. She took careful steps towards the door, careful not to wake them from their rest.
As she stepped outside, the birth of morning’s light greeted her, as the cool breeze of the young dawn welcomed her. She breathed in slowly – to comfort her stormed thoughts, and to give sanctuary, even a little sanctuary, to her heavily protesting stomach.
Two days, she thought wryly. I haven’t eaten for two days.
Her stomach sang its angered hymn again. She frowned to herself as she started marching towards the market.
Renji didn’t make any earnings yesterday, since he got into a fight with the owner of the new shop he was working in. He came home with a foul mood, leaving the whole district tending to a nearly dead Azuma-san.
Tatsuki, who was also out yesterday to get some money, came back with nothing. She intended to steal from a man who was busily finding whores for himself. Unfortunately, a guard caught her in the middle of the act and tried to chase her. She had no time to get the perverted man’s coin sack and she’d rather risk another day being hungry than to be caught and beheaded.
Orihime closed her eyes and tried fishing out from the sleeves of her untidy yukata. Nothing.
They had no money to spare.
Should I ask for some food again? She thought nervously.
The marketplace was the area in Inuzuri that Orihime dreaded the most. Every storekeeper and owner knew her. Everyone knew Inoue Orihime.
Why?
She was the one who owed them money.
She owed every single shop in Inuzuri some money, for all the food she asked of them and promised to pay back. For all the damages done by Renji in his street fights, Tatsuki in her stealing, and Jinta in his mischief. And for some reason, all of them were saved by Orihime, by promising the offended people payment. For reasons also unknown, the people believed Orihime, and let her three friends off the hook just for her.
Who would believe Inoue Orihime, who also had no money and who was also a companion of the three same people who wrecked their stores and robbed them of money?
Because of the way Inoue Orihime looked.
If you were a stranger, someone who didn’t come from Inuzuri, you wouldn’t believe that Inoue Orihime was one of the poorest people in that district. That is, if you were to judge by her looks, and not her clothing.
Her skin was creamy and fair, albeit stained by a bit of grime and dust. Her build was beautiful – her long shapely legs pushing through her simple kimono. Her body was that of a full-fledged woman who bloomed early and deemed as the most beautiful. Her narrow waist, giving way to rounded and firm buttocks were a sight that most of the men drool over. Her breasts were full and rounded, ones who were buried in the perverse thoughts of the street men of Inuzuri. Her hair was the color of dark, rich honey which flowed to her back in waves that seemed soft even to the eyes. Her over-all appearance was that of a princess – someone who doesn’t seem to belong to the slums. And the way she moved and the way she talked – all of it was refined, smooth and gentle, like she was a curve among the rugged edges of the town.
With a look of her gray eyes that seemed to see through a person and a breath of her sweet voice, men and women who were angered by her ‘family’ would calm down.
Unfortunately, Orihime knew that these techniques wouldn’t last. It only spared them temporarily. And now, all of her companions’ offenses were to be paid by her, since she vouched for them.
I can try my luck for now, she thought with newfound confidence. Who knows, she was treading on a very thin line right now. She would never know what people would ask for her just to pay back for the money they owed.
She continued her walk towards the marketplace, and when she finally did arrive, she felt her body slowly grow numb as eyes of hatred welcomed her in their chilling embrace.
“Isn’t that the woman who owes everyone here money?” she heard an elderly woman whisper.
“Yeah,” the man beside her replied, “I heard she whores herself out to pay off her debts.”
“Disgusting!”
“So that’s where she uses that body of hers. I thought she couldn’t do anything with it.”
“I guess that’s her role in that house filled with scum and asses. Since they have no money, she’s the compensation.”
“What is she doing here now?”
“I guess she’ll ask for some food?”
“Money, maybe?”
“No way! My business will close if she continues this!”
“That piece of filth! Why can’t she find a decent job?!”
“I thought she already worked as a whore?”
Orihime closed her eyes as she tried to block away the degrading comments her ears were involuntarily catching. But the voices were too loud. She opened her eyes once more to scan the area for signs of a kinder being who would let her have some food for herself and her friends.
“YOU FILTHY GIRL!” a screech came out of nowhere.
Orihime felt her eyes go wide in pain as a wrecking blow exploded on her back. She turned her neck to face her assailant. It was Shiyo-san, a middle-aged woman with really big lips and a flaring nose that seemed to often smell something horrible. Her shriveled hands were holding a bamboo stick and her frail frame was shaking with hatred. Her small and squinty eyes were narrowed upon Orihime in disgust and annoyance.
“WHERE’S THAT MONEY FOR ALL THE THINGS AND FOOD YOU BORROWED FROM MY STORE, HUH?!” she shrieked, not caring if all of Inuzuri, or even Edo, heard her unrestrained scream.
“I-I’m sorry, Shiyo-san,” Orihime whispered, trying to get up, “I will try to pay you as soon as I can.”
“And when is soon?!” the woman yelled back, “You bunch of scum owe me three weeks’ worth of food! And I’ve been asking you for a month now! I SHALL HAVE NO MORE EXCUSES!”
“Please,” Orihime said, raising a hand to plead. “I am very sorry, but we still have no money and – ”
“Damn you!” Shiyo said, raising the stick once more to hit her.
Orihime closed her eyes, waiting for the blow to fall upon her. But none came. She opened her eyes to see what was going on.
A man in a dark green yukata wearing a striped hat stood before her, holding the stick Shiyo-san intended to hit her. He was chuckling slightly as he broke the stick effortlessly into two. He adjusted his hat to hide his eyes as he spoke to the shaking woman before him,
“That’s not nice of you, Shiyo-san,” he said in a teasing manner.
“What are you doing here, Urahara?!” she spat, trying to still her quavering voice.
“Nothin’ special,” the man named Urahara replied, “I was just in town to give out some supplies to you poor people, and here I see you hittin’ this poor girl.”
“So what?! She owes me a lot of money!”
“Tsk tsk,” he said, “You owe me a lot of money as well, don’t you remember?”
To Orihime’s surprise, Shiyo said nothing. It seemed like this man before her had some sort of power over the vendors here. Even the brawling men weren’t doing anything to intervene. She hastily looked around to see their reactions – they all looked fearful.
“I shall forget all the money that you owe me if you let this little lady here off the hook,” he continued then turned his head to the side to address the people watching, “And the same goes for all of you.”
Murmurs erupted from all around, ringing in Orihime’s ears. The man did have a lot of influence around these parts of Inuzuri. She briefly wondered why.
“All of our debts?!” a man shouted in disbelief.
“I won’t repeat myself again, Big Mouth-san,” Urahara said mockingly. “Now, did I make myself clear?”
“Hai, Urahara-san!” almost all of the bystanders replied.
“Good, good,” he said, waving off a hand and fixing his hat, “Now I have to go. Take care, Shiyo-san!”
Then he turned around and faced Orihime, tossing her some gold pieces. But when he looked at her, she observed his expression change to something of surprise. His mysterious eyes widened for a fraction of a second under the shadow of the brim of his hat, then turned away, walking hastily.
“Wait!” Orihime shouted, running after the enigmatic man, “Urahara-sama!”
She ran after his rapidly retreating form until she found herself at the back of an old shack. She stopped suddenly as the man she was following paused, then turned to her, this time with his annoying smile back in place.
“What is it you want from me, little lady?” he asked airily.
“I just wanted to thank you for what you did,” Orihime said, bowing. “I promise to repay you.”
“Repay me?” he said mockingly, “When you can’t even pay off that old lady?”
Orihime reddened at this and frowned, “Forgive me, but I have nothing to lose by showing my gratitude, and if you refuse to accept it, then I shall readily withdraw it.”
To her surprise, he chuckled, “I’m Urahara Kisuke, missie,” he said out of nowhere. “You can say that I am the supplier of everything you see in this bustling market.”
Now I know why they’re all so scared of him, she thought.
“I’m Inoue Orihime,” she said, noticing once again that the man’s expression changed once more to shock then went back to the usual.
“You say you wanna repay me?” he said.
“Hai.”
“You’re family’s in a lot of trouble?” he asked.
“As it is obviously seen,” she replied sadly. “And by family, we are talking about two of my closest friends and two of my siblings.”
“Siblings?” he inquired.
“We’re not really blood-related; I just took care of them.”
He chuckled again, in that knowledgeable manner that seemed to annoy and scare her, “Wasn’t that nice of you?”
“That’s the right thing to do,” she said.
“Hmm…” she heard him whisper as his gaze swept over him in a way that made her uncomfortable.
What am I bargaining for? She thought in worry, praying that this man in front of her may not be some sort of pervert.
“You definitely could do,” he whispered.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“Are you willing to sell yourself?” he asked, with no hesitation.
“What?!” Orihime said in alarm. “Sell myself?!”
“Mm-hmm,” Urahara said with a nod and a smile. “You look quite fine, and in exchange for yourself, I shall assure you that your friends would be living a better life – a way better life.”
Orihime felt her world swirl around her. Sell myself? To this man?! And leave Renji, Tatsuki, Jinta, and Ururu? Where will he take me if I said yes? What will I do? What will he make me do?!
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing of the sort that you’re thinking of,” Urahara said with a chuckle. “I do not do whoring.”
Orihime huffed in relief. “Then what?”
“You shall be of service to someone who really requires your need.”
“Am I to be a maid?” she asked.
Urahara stared at her in a puzzling manner, “You can say that.”
Orihime thought about this, and knew that if she did this, she would be helping her friends a lot. But she didn’t know if she could stand being away from them for so long.
“Do I get to see my friends?” she asked.
The man laughed and opened a fan to cover the smirk that slashed across his face, “You’re selling yourself, lil’ missie. Do you think your allegiance still lie on those friends of yours? You should devote all of your time to the person who saved you from starvation.”
Orihime frowned and looked at Urahara Kisuke squarely in the eye. “I don’t think I can do it,” she replied. “Go look for someone else.”
To her surprise, Urahara didn’t push on further and merely turned around. “Hai, hai,” he said in abandonment. “I wonder if I can find anyone like you, Orihime-sama.”
Orihime’s eyes widened and asked, “Orihime – what did you call me?”
To her shock, Urahara Kisuke was already gone.
That again, she thought. Now I have to find another way to pay for my debt to that man.
She knew she was letting go of what possibly be the only way to pay back for what Urahara Kisuke had done. She knew she was being ungrateful by not accepting his offer, and that she had let go of what could be her family’s only salvation from hunger. She was being selfish in choosing to be with them rather than to give them their needs, but she couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t know what to do without her precious nakama. She was dependent on them as they were dependent on her – for all the little things in their simple lives. If she went away with Urahara Kisuke and sold herself to him, what would happen to her? She didn’t want to be abused. She knew that by giving herself away, she would be in a life of torment, this time without her friends.
Orihime walked back to the market to make some use out of the money Urahara had given her. She went to the nearest and cheapest stand to buy some vegetables and a slice of meat. She ignored the alarmed and curious stares the people were giving her. She didn’t want to know what filthy thoughts they were thinking, and she needed to go home soon.
“Nee-chan!” a voice called out.
Orihime turned and saw a grinning Jinta running towards her. The young boy paused in front of her to catch her breath and spoke, in an authoritative manner,
“Where have you been?!”
“I bought food, Jinta-kun,” she replied, smiling gently at him.
“WOW!” Jinta said in excitement, browsing through the contents of Orihime’s basket. Orihime smiled as she saw the obvious hunger in Jinta’s eyes as she walked away from the gossiping market with him.
“I’m going to cook a delicious meal, okay?” she said.
“But nee-chan, where did you get the money to buy food?”
Orihime debated whether to answer Jinta’s question honestly or not. She decided in choosing the good path.
“A man gave me money.”
“A man?!” Jinta said in surprise.
“Yes,” Orihime said. “And now, because of him, we’re free from debt.”
To her surprise, Jinta frowned, “Don’t tell me that that man fancies nee-chan.”
Orihime laughed at this obvious display of jealousy, “No, of course not!”
“Then why would he give you money and free us of debt?”
“I don’t know,” she said in a soft voice. “Really, I don’t know.”
So guys, this is my new fic. It’s kinda interesting for me to write long chapters for a change. I’m having severe story/fan fic overload this past few weeks so as you have noticed, I have been updating Lasting Accidents more and more. After posting this, I shall try to update Bloody Banquet and perhaps two days after this one, I’ll be updating Sen no Yoru o Koete. 😀
I hope you liked it! Leave a review please! 😀
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
I’m glad you guys liked my first chapter. I’ll now go on with the second. I enjoy writing this fic in a different manner. I’m loving it in an unusual sort of way, so I hope that the passion would pour through my writing. ^^,
Chapter 2
The Rising Tide
“Where did you get all the food, Orihime?” Tatsuki asked, peering over her best friend’s shoulder, looking at the food being cooked and laid down the unkempt table. She was wondering at the moment Orihime arrived at their doorstep, with an ill-hidden ashen expression on her face with a frowning Jinta beside her.
Tatsuki hoped hard that nothing bad happened to Orihime at the market. She felt sympathy and guilt towards her friend. Orihime was always the one who bore and kept up with the ills they brought upon her. And she did all of these things unflinchingly, like she was being a glutton for punishment. She would just smile that gentle smile of hers and ease them.
Orihime, what will we do without you? Tatsuki wondered.
Orihime took a deep breath and faced her concerned friend. “A man gave me money to buy food,” she stated.
Tatsuki blanched and gripped Orihime’s shoulders tightly, “Did he make you do anything? Did he hurt you? Dammit, tell me who he is, Orihime.”
Orihime giggled. “Don’t worry Tatsuki-chan,” she said. “He’s name is Urahara Kisuke and he’s a good man, though a bit strange.”
Tatsuki’s eyes widened in recognition, “Oh! Urahara-san! I know him. He gave me money too, once. He’s the owner of the whole marketplace, I think!”
Orihime was mildly surprised that Tatsuki already knew the man. But then again, her friend had more ‘encounters’ with the market than herself, so she would know. The orange-haired girl pondered on what would happen if she accepted the offer. And the way the strange man called her…
“Oi… Orihime!” the voice said, searing through her storming thoughts as a blurry hand impaired her vision, waving frantically at her face.
“W-what?” Orihime said with a dazed expression. Tatsuki eyed her suspiciously as she went on with her tirade.
“I hope he didn’t say anything funny,” Tatsuki said. “He always says stuff like I should work for him or whatnot.”
“Work for him? You were asked if you were willing to be sold?” Orihime asked, a flabbergasted expression on her face, recalling the events of the day. The man might be truly perverted, seeing as he was fond of helping out every single girl he sees and offers them on something to pay him back for his show of ‘generosity’.
Tatsuki reddened, “No!” she denied. “He asked if I wanted to work for him. Not sell me.”
Orihime’s mouth shaped in an understanding ‘o’. Why am I the only one getting the unusual offers?
She continued cooking the food. What was stranger was that Urahara Kisuke called her the name that she refused to remember. She mentally shook her head. Her thoughts were leading to an impossible direction, and she didn’t like the way they went this time.
“URURU!” Jinta’s voice screamed, ripping the silence and tension within Orihime. She whipped her head wildly to turn around.
The young girl had bruises all over her body. She was panting heavily and held an almost vacant expression on her face, her eyes seemed glazed and her mouth in a tight line. She was in much pain, Orihime could tell. Alarm swept over her as Ururu fell over, Jinta catching her in the nick of time.
Orihime went numb as she felt her legs carry her towards the injured little girl. Tatsuki was cursing and muttering incoherent words under her breath. Orihime knew that when her best friend acted this way, she was too furious and shocked to say anything more and would probably destroy the nearest thing, or person, she would lay her hands on.
“Where the hell is Renji?!” Tatsuki half-yelled as she reached for Ururu’s falling form.
“What should we do now?” Jinta said, tears spilling over his eyes.
“I’ll take her to the doctor,” Orihime said. “Tatsuki, you look for Renji. Jinta, I want you to stay and take charge of the house while we’re gone.”
Jinta nodded and Tatsuki already left. Orihime took the beaten Ururu in her arms and started running as fast as her legs could carry her.
Oh please dear Lord, she whispered to herself, help Ururu. Please.
The little girl let out a cough. Orihime looked down in horror to see that the little girl has blood oozing out the side of her mouth. She doubled her pace as she reached the doctor’s clinic – a wooden house with a modest bearing.
“Doctor, doctor!” Orihime called out frantically.
The doctor named Asuma came out, scowling at them deeply. He took one look at Orihime and frowned deeply. He turned and made his way back into his house.
“Please!” Orihime pleaded, running towards the doctor as tears ran down her cheeks. “Please help her… she’s bleeding!”
“Pay your debts first!” Asuma spat.
“But… but Urahara-san – ” Orihime started, but was halted by the doctor’s laugh.
“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, girl, but I’m the only one in this town who doesn’t owe anything to Urahara Kisuke,” Asuma said. “Nor am I a part of the marketplace in the beginning. So shoo! Stupid girl!”
Orihime’s eyes filled with tears as she held on to Ururu’s unconscious form.
Who did this to you, Ururu?
She didn’t want to give up just yet.
She ran again towards the doctor as he began closing his doors on them and gave it another try. He was the only doctor in town. She needed his help.
“Please, I have several gold coins here,” she tried again.
“NO!” the man yelled. “As if those gold coins can pay for the amount of medicine and help you owe me!”
With that, he shoved Orihime. She gasped and waited for the hard ground to catch her, but instead, a cold wall of something hard, but smooth, caught her. Pale hands wrapped around her shaken form as she caught a whiff of a masculine scent.
She raised her eyes to look at her savior.
It was a young man about her age, with jet black hair and deep green eyes. His expression was stoic that it was almost scary – the way you couldn’t read what he thinks about, or if he has any emotions at all. He was fairly tall and quite handsome, despite his pale self. However cold he might seem, he bore a grace in his movements and a subtle aura of command around him that made Orihime think that he was a nobleman.
When he gave her a gentle push to steady her form, Orihime could also say that he was strong, albeit a bit skinny. But she still felt that he had a muscular and well-built form, and she was right, as she regarded him with admiring eyes now that she’s on her feet.
She was right in concluding that he was rich since an elegant chariot waited a few meters away from the doctor’s place.
“What are you doing to this woman?” he finally spoke out, in a deep, velvety voice that made Orihime’s knees go weak.
“I… I – Ulquiorra-sama,” the doctor said, whose mood suddenly went from foul to nervous.
“How much does she owe you?” the young man named Ulquiorra asked again.
“Two hundred gold pieces,” Asuma said quietly.
Two hundred gold pieces? Orihime gasped, her thoughts in a whirlwind, I owe this man that much.
But she shouldn’t wonder anymore. When Ururu and Jinta were mere toddlers, they were often sick. Especially Ururu. Orihime often went to Doctor Asuma for help. She also had to admit that when she first became a part of Inuzuri she was also sickly, since she wasn’t used to living off in the streets.
“Consider it paid,” Ulquiorra said, which shocked both Orihime and the doctor.
“What?” Orihime said in a daze.
Ulquiorra turned to look at her. Orihime went rock still under his scrutinizing gaze and noticed that his eyes had shown a bit of emotion – something she couldn’t quite identify. But there was something there.
He turned quickly away from her and faced the shaking doctor. “I shall have my assistant deliver the money in the morning,” Ulquiorra said. “And you give Doctor Unohana what she wants. I came here to tell you that. I am not a messenger boy of any chance so you should do your errands quickly. I came here on a special favor. So if I catch you lounging about in your trash of a house, I shall make sure this day would be your last.”
Asuma nodded quickly and hurried into his house, shutting the door. Orihime stared at the interesting man who threw off the dangerous threat, feeling a warm sensation in her chest that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Ulquiorra looked at her again, making her blush, “What are you still doing here, woman?”
“Ah… eh…” Orihime stammered, feeling her words fly out into the air with this handsome being’s presence. “I was about to ask Asuma-sama to heal my little sister, Ururu.”
An eyebrow cocked on Ulquiorra’s usually stoic face, “Your sister?”
“Yes,” she replied.
Ulquiorra said nothing and turned around, his coat tails swishing with him as the pristine white of his clothing made it clear to Orihime the ranks that separated them.
She hugged Ururu tightly to her shaking form. Now what do I do?
Orihime’s eyes widened when Ulquiorra suddenly turned his head back to their direction and said in a deadpan voice, “What are you still doing standing there? Come with me, woman.”
He’s helping Ururu! Orihime said to herself in delight as tears went out of her eyes again. She followed the kind gentleman to his carriage and went in after him, settling across him.
“Thank you, Ulquiorra-sama,” she said with a smile, tears still running down her face.
Ulquiorra looked at her in a strange manner and reached inside his pocket. Out came his pale hand after a few seconds, with it, something white and folded.
Orihime squeaked when he reached out and dabbed her face with what he was holding. A handkerchief, she realized, amidst her blazing thoughts.
She reddened as Ulquiorra reached out with his other hand and grabbed her free arm. He placed the white handkerchief firmly in her hands.
“Stars should not cry,” he said, in his usual deadpan voice. “They lose their sparkle when they do that.”
Orihime’s gray eyes went wide. This stoic man just associated her with the stars – the element of the sky she resented the most. What’s more, she called her one. But what’s stranger was that she liked it. It was as if her established resentment towards stars won’t be the same anymore.
She clutched unconsciously at the handkerchief and hid her small smile and blush as she looked down at a surprisingly calmly sleeping Ururu.
Is she already okay? Orihime thought.
The carriage suddenly went to a halt. Orihime looked at Ulquiorra in question, and he, as if reading her mind, answered,
“I shall drop you off here. I shall have one of my servants who is with us now to take you to Doctor Unohana. Do not worry about paying, it’s already arranged.”
Orihime’s eyes sparkled in delight as she beamed at the composed nobleman. “Thank you so much,” she said, her voice almost breaking and in a near sigh.
Ulquiorra regarded her with mildly surprised eyes and nodded, clearly dismissing her.
Orihime went down quickly and was ushered into a quite impressive mansion as the carriage left. She wondered briefly when she will meet Ulquiorra again until the man beside her cleared his throat.
Orihime nearly jumped, forgetting that she was with Ulquiorra’s servant. It was a man with blonde hair, his face drooped in eternal sadness, it seemed. His hair was styled a bit unusually, with a huge chunk of it almost covering his entire left eye and parted at the back.
“I am Kira Izuru,” he said. “I shall now take you to Doctor Unohana.”
Orihime nodded, “Thank you,” she said, bowing slightly as she held on to Ururu.
When she entered the oak doors of the mansion, a girl dressed in black clothing bowed and welcomed them.
“Isane,” Izuru said. “Ulquiorra-sama requests that Unohana-sama help this girl.”
Isane nodded. She bowed to Orihime and took Ururu from her arms. “If you will follow me, Madame.”
Orihime nodded and followed the taller woman. She observed her surroundings. This doctor must be really amazing for earning this much.
They stopped when they reached the room across the hallway. Isane knocked.
“Unohana-sama,” she said. “Here is the patient Ulquiorra-sama has requested that you look after.”
Orihime’s eyes widened in surprise. They were already anticipating her arrival. Just how many minutes have passed when she met Ulquiorra. How fast! For someone to relay a message like that…
In her thoughts, she didn’t realize that the door was already opened, revealing a woman with a peaceful serenity about her. Her jet black hair was tied in a loose braid in front of her, quite an unusual hairstyle, if one might observe. Her smile was warm, as were her eyes, which were a deep midnight blue.
“Come in,” she said.
Isane and Orihime went in the spacious room. The taller woman put Ururu down a bed as she excused herself.
“Thank you, Isane-sama,” Orihime said, smiling at the female.
Isane gave her a smile in return and bowed. She closed the door behind her.
“What’s your name?” a gentle voice said from the bed beside Ururu.
“Inoue Orihime,” she responded.
“What happened to this little girl?” Unohana asked, as she puttered around for things that are foreign to Orihime’s eyes, and with a skill that was impressive, started working fast on Ururu’s injuries.
“I don’t know…” Orihime faintly said.
“She has taken quite a hard beating,” Unohana said gently.
Orihime felt her eyes sting once again. She was unable to protect Ururu. All of this was her fault. She felt her throat fill up with bile once again at the frightening thought that they could have lost Ururu out of neglect. She didn’t have to ask what happened anymore. It was quite clear – the little girl had been beaten up by the townsfolk. The same thing happened to Tatsuki almost three months ago. Orihime didn’t know why they still did this. She thought they were already free from debt.
She felt the wave of tears come once again and she mentally reprimanded herself for this show of weakness. She quickly dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief Ulquiorra gave her. She caught a whiff of his smell and blushed slightly.
“You are lucky that she hasn’t lost much blood yet,” Unohana said. “Lucky Ulquiorra-kun was there to help. Such a sweet boy.”
Orihime almost agreed verbally when she stopped herself. How could a peasant girl like me be with a nobleman such as Ulquiorra-sama?
“She has a fractured right arm, so I suggest that you let her take it easy. She also has a crack on her lower rib, so she can’t move for a while. I might suggest that you let her stay under my care for a while,” Unohana said. “You can visit her any time that you like.”
“Is she going to be okay?” Orihime asked in worry.
“Yes she will, Inoue-san,” Unohana said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Thank you very much,” Orihime said. “I have to hurry home for a while. I have to inform my friends of Ururu’s condition.”
“What about her family, dear?”
Orihime winced. The woman was quick to notice that she wasn’t related to Ururu.
She smiled weakly, “In our place, friends are family.” Then she left.
Unohana smiled knowingly. She looked after the girl as she ran, the doctor’s mind in a series of thoughts.
Orihime ran as fast as she can, eager to tell Tatsuki and the others of the good news. She thanked God that Ururu was okay, and that Unohana-sama was a very skilled doctor.
She stopped to catch her breath and let the pain on her left ankle subside. She nearly sprained herself getting to the outskirts of this place. She was surely a bit far away from home. Inuzuri was a very poor district, and having been able to reach the nobleman’s realm named Seiretei was something she had never dreamed of doing.
Again.
She looked around nervously and searched for a carriage to take her back to Inuzuri. As of now, she had the capacity to take a carriage, since she has money. But it would take her a gold piece to get to her home. It was a waste, but she needed to get home soon.
And away from here.
Unconsciously, she opened the handkerchief Ulquiorra gave her. It had intricate embroidery of the initials U.S.
S must be his last name. I have to know him more, Orihime thought. To thank him…
And she knew the stars shone down on her that night, the moment she met him.
End! You can stop reading now guys. This is TOTALLY UlquiHime *laughs**
Please leave a review if you can! 😀 Thank you! 😀
* I love copper-neechan, Eneyla-neechan, Star-chan-neesan… all of my BA nee-sans! The UlquiHime parts are for BleachOD-neesan, though she won’t read this because she isn’t exactly an IchiHime shipper. 😀 *
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
NOTE: NOPE THIS IS NOT AN ULQUIHIME FIC. I WAS KIDDING IN THIS INTRODUCTORY POST BELOW (SEE SNICKER AS SIGN OF IRONY) LOL!
My humor is lame like that.,XD
Okaaaay~~ double update. Methinks. 😀 Thanks to all those who reviewed the earlier chapter.
Warning: this fan fic is purely UlquiHime, so I suggest you check the way you put in the characters in the search engine. (*snickers*) I might have made a mistake and put it in IchiHime… *scratches head*
Okay, on with the chapter.
Chapter 3
The Time of Being
“Tatsuki-chan,” Orihime said, her voice fading into the darkness that surrounded them.
“Are you sure about this?” Tatsuki asked, her back to her best friend.
“Nee-sama,” Jinta murmured out of the darkness.
Orihime was sure Renji was also there, but the redhead was saying nothing. It was like this every night Ururu was gone. But right now, it felt darker and colder. Orihime knew why – she was the cause of this. But she didn’t want to do it. She just had to. To avoid events like what happened to Ururu.
The townspeople were still angry as Orihime thought. And now, they were set on punishing her family. They weren’t intending to hurt her, and she was now called “Urahara’s whore”. So now that they lost their capability to harm her, they had put it in their mind to do the horrid acts on her friends.
Ururu was the first victim. Orihime’s eyes swept over to Jinta, whose left eye was swollen. He had been the next. He was lucky that Renji was lounging near the area and stopped the raging bullies just in time. Jinta was tough, but he was still a child.
“I’m sure of this,” Orihime responded, bowing down and observing her hands.
“What if something happens to you?” Renji’s gruff voice came out of nowhere. “We won’t be there to protect you.”
Orihime smiled weakly, “Nothing will happen to me. And if ever there will be I am responsible for this decision, so I would not regret it.”
“We won’t be there to help, you know,” Jinta said, his voice cracking. He was clearly on the brink of crying. Orihime moved towards Jinta and embraced him tightly.
“If my security is the only way I can protect you, then I will give it up,” she said.
“Orihime, please don’t do this,” Tatsuki pleaded, finally looking at her best friend. She was instantly stopped when she looked into Orihime’s gray orbs. It was filled with determination and hard resolve. Nothing could stop her now.
“What if that cheeky Urahara dude did something to you?” Renji asked again, his voice filled with disgust.
Orihime laughed, though it was hollow and mirthless. “I think he won’t do anything, Renji-kun,” she said. “He may be weird, but I saw that he might be a decent person.”
“I can say that as well,” Tatsuki agreed. “But still Hime, to be sold to some unknown place just to spare us from harm’s way…”
“Tatsuki-chan,” Orihime said. “Let me do this. I want to protect you. And if I work for Urahara-san, you won’t go hungry for another day! Think about it.”
“I’d rather die hungry as long as you’re with us, Hime-neesan,” Jinta said, wiping his tears with his dirt-stained arm.
Orihime forced her tears back. She shouldn’t show any signs of weakness – any sign that she was doubting or regretting this decision. If she sold herself to Urahara Kisuke, she could assure protection for her family. They would have the capacity to buy off whatever food they wanted. They would have clean clothes. They would be happy and healthy. They can go on without her.
Tonight would be the night that Urahara Kisuke would take her to a new place. She felt deep inside that she was ready for whatever was in store for her. She didn’t need to know what it was right now; all she knew was that her heart was set on it.
“What will we say to Ururu?” Tatsuki asked, after a few quiet moments.
“I already told her when I visited her earlier this morning,” Orihime said in a hushed voice.
Silence.
A sudden sound of horses braying and a stop of wheels were heard not too far from their little home. Orihime looked up at the hole in their roof.
Stars.
We’ll meet each other again.
The sound of footsteps intruded the silence. A sound of a chuckle. A gruff ‘yes’. There were two men approaching their house.
“Inoue-san,” Urahara Kisuke’s voice floated, invading their silence.
“Hai, Urahara-san,” Orihime answered, standing up, feeling the stares of Renji, Tatsuki and Jinta on her.
“Let’s talk about our contract in the carriage,” the man continued.
“Why can’t you just talk about it here?” Tatsuki spat, suddenly entering the silent exchange.
Urahara covered his grin with his annoying fan, “It’s because it is a matter of privacy. And do not worry Tatsuki-chan; I won’t sell your precious Inoue-san into prostitution. She would have a much more honorable and fitting job.”
Orihime smiled reassuringly at Tatsuki as she walked with Urahara. An older man with glasses and a mustache walked towards them, bowing deeply.
“This is Tessai, my assistant,” Urahara said.
“Good evening, Tessai-san,” Orihime acknowledged, bowing back.
“A pleasure meeting you, Inoue-sama,” Tessai said.
Orihime flinched. She always flinched when she was addressed with the honorific ‘–sama’ or ‘-dono.’
She couldn’t bear to look back at her friends’ heartbroken expressions; for fear that she might hold back and withdraw from her conviction. She just walked with Urahara Kisuke and his assistant to the beautiful carriage. The ride wasn’t even stationed far away from her old house, but it seemed to take her forever to get there.
When she finally reached the carriage, she let out a sigh of submission to her fate. She went inside and settled herself on the seat, followed instantly by Urahara and Tessai.
The carriage began to shake, and she felt the thing move. The scenery outside the window began to move faster when she heard a piercing yell into the starry night sky.
“ORIHIME!””
Orihime closed her eyes to shun the pain. Never did she hear Arisawa Tatsuki scream with such pain. Never did she hear Arisawa Tatsuki scream out of solace and sadness. And she was the cause of her best friend’s pain.
You will have greater days without me, Tatsuki-chan, she thought. Don’t worry.
She inhaled sharply and crinkled her nose. The air wasn’t as clear as it was to her before. It was like it carried a soft stench of chaos with it. She didn’t like it when she felt nervous and sad. The combination affected her senses only too much.
“Stop worrying, Inoue-san,” Urahara said out of the illuminated confines of the carriage. “I shall assure you that your friends will be under my protection from now on.”
“Thank you,” Orihime whispered, fearing her own voice.
“Now, on to the business,” he continued, opening his fan to cover his face once again.
Orihime looked up and listened intently, ready for what was to come.
“You will have an unusual offer here, Inoue-san,” Urahara said jovially. “Normally, I would have sold a girl to slavery, but your case is different. A beauty such as yours should not work with dishrags and mops.”
Orihime felt her gut churn at the introductory speech Urahara was giving. She honestly wished she could just be a maid. Then what am I suited for?
“My most loyal and possibly, my richest and most prized, customer is in a bind,” he continued, regarding her with a mysterious twinkle in his eyes. “And you will help him with that.”
“What sort of bind?” she asked, steadying her voice and was surprised that her words came out firmly.
“You will marry him, Inoue-san.”
Orihime felt her world spin. She felt her insides wrenching and her blood run cold. Marriage?! This was much, much more than what she thought she was bargaining for. And who would the man be? She didn’t even know him! And if he was rich, why would he want a peasant bride.
“You are more than what I expected when I laid eyes on you,” Urahara said, looking outside the window. “And do not worry. The man you are about to marry is of royal descent. He has wealth both in Japan and in Europe. He has stayed in this country for about three years now, since his father requested it of him.”
So what if he’s royal? Orihime wildly said to herself. I’m about to be married to him! It’s not part of what I was expecting! He might be an old man for all I know.
As if reading her mind, Urahara continued, “You are lucky enough that this man is exactly your age. To clarify what I meant by royalty, I meant that he is one of the grandsons of the King of England.”
What?! The grandson of the King of England?! Orihime’s brain was spinning more. She didn’t know that she will go back to the thing that she left for years ago…
“But we have a special case with him. His father is a rich Japanese businessman and his mother, a princess,” he continued, orienting her on the man who was going to be her husband. “They met here in Japan when the princess was on a vacation and they married secretly. But the king was not pleased. He nearly disowned the princess but when he found out that she was pregnant, he gave her a chance.”
Orihime was only half-listening to the story. She couldn’t force herself to listen well when her senses were going awry. She just stared at Urahara with a glazed expression.
“Now, your betrothed’s father has been appointed as the Governor of Japan. But when the princess died of an accident years ago, it has never been the same for them. They were teetering in the eyes of the king. The only way for my customer to gain back his rightful title and all that goes with it is if he married a pure British noblewoman.”
Orihime’s eyes whipped up to Urahara Kisuke with shock. Cold water might have sprayed from everywhere, since Orihime shivered involuntarily at what this man before her was saying. How did he know?!
“You can’t possibly hide yourself in the midst of commoners, Orihime-sama,” Urahara said with amusement. “With the way you look, you stick out like a sore thumb.”
“H-how do you know me?” Orihime said shakily.
“Inoue Orihime, duchess of Brooklyn,” Urahara Kisuke proclaimed. “Your wealth is still as intact as ever even after your parents’ deaths. A tragedy in one of your parents’ foreign escapades took their lives.”
Orihime winced at the professional manner he talked about her parents’ deaths. She just kept silent, however.
Yes, my parents did love to travel. And when Japan became a colony of the British Empire, they went for a visit, with me and my brother Sora. That day when I woke up, they were already gone. The maids have told me that the three left to buy me a surprise birthday present. But in exchange for the celebration of my life…
Their lives were taken away.
Orihime had to admit that she was surprised that her wealth was still intact. Because the month that came after her family’s deaths were brutal to her. She was often asked to sell her properties, or give it to her uncle for protection. But she would not. To avoid the selfish and greedy hands of those who pursued her, she left the estate they had in Japan and wandered amongst the Japanese common folk.
“Who took care of it?” Orihime asked out of nowhere.
“Your aunt,” Urahara replied.
Orihime couldn’t help but smile – a soft and small smile. Her aunt Rangiku, the only relative who was truly sweet and kind to her.
“Now, there is no worthier match to our young friend,” Urahara said in a dreamy manner. “You shall help him restore his rightful claim to the British throne. I have found such a genuine jewel! Imagine, I have owned the slums of Japan in a long time, but never in my wildest dreams did I think that the missing duchess of Brooklyn was amongst them!”
“D-does my… ah… the prince?” Orihime wondered of the title. Since Urahara nodded, she decided to continue, “Does he know of my status?”
“Yes. He is well aware,” Urahara replied. “You shall meet with him tomorrow, after we bring you back to your home for a while and let you re-acquaint yourself to your servants who have missed you intensely.”
Orihime’s eyes widened. I’m going back.
The carriage came to a stop, without Orihime being aware that they had reached her mansion. She looked outside, spotting the dazzling lights of the huge place that once belonged to her parents. She took in the sight of the spacious gardens where she and Sora played tag and whatever game they could think of.
The gates opened and Orihime felt her heart miss a beat. She didn’t know what to do once she stepped inside the mansion. What would her servants say? Their mistress left for nine years. What was more disgracing was that Inoue Orihime lied every day of her life in Inuzuri. Nobody knew this, but Orihime had an uncanny ability to reject things in her mind. When she wanted to forget certain things as a child, she would forget. When she reached the poverty-stricken areas of Edo as a child, she vowed to forget her past life. The dreams that haunted her were unreal visions, she convinced herself that. She lied to her own thoughts. She had forgotten, that’s what she bore into her head years ago. The woman named Haruka, her parents’ and brother’s deaths, her estate, her title – everything about her past, she had buried well into her mind. But now, in an instant, they were all flooding back. Orihime couldn’t do anything about the force that came rushing in – the force in which one calls the past. A little girl within her screamed in protest. The girl didn’t succeed entirely in forgetting.
She was born as a noblewoman, and now she had inherited her parents’ titles. She would be married to the grandson of the King of England who was a ‘half-breed’. All the niceties and foulness of the society she had been raised into all came rushing back to her in a sickening force that she wanted to vomit, along with all the lies that she fed to herself and let her mind believe in.
No, she did not have amnesia, though she wished she had. She had developed an entirely new story within her own while she was little, forcefully pushing away all the memories of nobility and its evil.
“Welcome home, Orihime-sama,” a voice said, knocking her back to reality. She didn’t realize that Urahara Kisuke had already left and that she was standing in the receiving area of the mansion, the staircase welcoming her as it loomed in front of her. The house’s carpeted interior covered the shiny marble underneath. The paintings, chandeliers and furnishings were still the same and were kept well. She spotted the huge portrait of her family on the right side of the huge hall and she closed her eyes in rejection.
“Do you need anything, Orihime-sama?” the voice said again.
Orihime opened her eyes. It was Haruka. The young woman who was her nanny back then was now older. She guessed that she was already in her late twenties. She didn’t know how to react to what she said. The maid had a soft expression in her eyes, and it was clear that she was fresh from crying. Her relieved and caring smile was there, and Orihime could feel the guilt bloom deep within her for treating the woman the way she did as a child, when she left.
She couldn’t do anything to appease for her sins now, but she could do one thing. Orihime strode gracefully to Haruka and gave her a warm embrace, tears softly trickling down her gray eyes as she felt the woman sob against her shoulder.
“I’m so glad you have returned, Orihime-sama,” Haruka said while she cried, “So glad… everyone is so happy. We thought you…”
“Ssh,” Orihime said, letting go. “It’s alright. I’m safe.”
Haruka composed herself and smiled. But when the woman looked at her dear mistress, her eyes widened in shock and frowned, “What god awful clothes you have! We must remove you from them, immediately!”
Orihime laughed softly when Haruka’s gentle hands ushered her upstairs and into her old room. Orihime let her gaze wander onto the old interiors of the house, reminiscing the happier times she spent in the mansion.
When they entered her room, her mouth dropped into an inscrutable line. Haruka let go of her mistress as Orihime wandered into the room, looking at the place in which she sought comfort whenever she was hurt. But she could only count the times that she was truly hurt. And that was the time her parents and brother died.
The white sheets were still there, with her favorite embroideries of hibiscus flowers. The curtains shielded her from the chilling night air and the furniture were still that of a little girl. She saw her stuffed toys that were arranged in an orderly manner.
She knew this was all Haruka’s doing.
“I thought you would still come home as a child, Orihime-sama,” Haruka said from behind her, “So I let your room stay this way. But I see I was mistaken. We can never thank Urahara Kisuke enough for bringing you to us.”
Orihime looked at the woman sadly, “I’m sorry, Haruka. I –”
“We understand, Orihime-sama,” Haruka said. “Now, please go to rest. I have already prepared the hot bath and I shall bring a change of clothes in a while. Please, rest.”
Orihime nodded and waited until Haruka left. She went to the adjoining room and removed the kimono – very old, worn and dirty clothes that Tatsuki stole for her when she had grown a bit bigger in womanly sizes.
She folded them neatly and put them somewhere where Haruka could see it. Orihime wanted to let the woman wash it and bring it back to her. Inuzuri was a life she had never wanted to forget. Never ever…
Orihime settled herself into the hut tub and started to relax when thoughts of Renji, Tatsuki, Ururu and Jinta came back into her mind. She couldn’t relax one bit when she knew they were lying down on the hard, cold floor and were cramped in that space.
She would have to help them when her contract with Urahara has taken effect. The man had given her his word. And if he didn’t do it, she would personally give her friends the life that she wanted them to have.
“May I come in, Orihime-sama?” Haruka’s voice from the other side of the door said.
“Yes,” Orihime called out.
Haruka entered and hung her clothes near the tub. She took one look at the dirty clothes Orihime laid down and nodded. Orihime smiled. Haruka sure knew what things around her meant to her, and would gladly take care of whatever she deemed important.
“Are you going back to Brooklyn, Orihime-sama?” Haruka asked.
Orihime hadn’t thought about it, but knowing her present condition, she couldn’t go back to England any time soon. But if she were to be introduced to the King any time soon, then she would be going back earlier than she expected.
“I think so,” Orihime replied, the feeling of sadness enveloping her once again. She would be leaving Japan, her friends – her friends that were her family for the past nine years.
“Hey Haruka,” she said.
“Yes, Orihime-sama?”
“Do you think I can hire servants that can come along with me to England?”
Haruka remained silent for a moment, “I think so. Since a noblewoman brought them, they would be accepted. Why do you ask?”
Orihime smiled as a solution formed to her mind. She could give her friends comfortable lives if they lived with her. She was sure her future husband would comply. She was doing him a big favor by marrying him after all.
“I am hiring my friends,” she answered.
“The people who took care of you while you were gone?” Haruka asked. When Orihime shot her a questioning stare, she blushed, “Urahara-san told me all about your life in Inuzuri, Orihime-sama.”
“Oh,” Orihime said. Urahara Kisuke certainly did know a lot.
“So, do you know that I’m getting married?” Orihime asked.
When Haruka gasped and let go of the brush she was holding to tend to her mistress’ hair, it was clear to Orihime that she didn’t know.
“What?” Haruka breathed out.
“Urahara-san made me come back to you,” Orihime said with a small smile, “But I did not know I was coming back here. I thought I would be sold to slavery to spare my friends. But I didn’t know I would be sold for marriage. But I have to get back to my old life to help my friends and marry the man.”
“Who is he, Orihime-sama?”
“I do not know his name. But Urahara-san said he’s the grandson of the King, that his father is the governor of Japan and that his mother is a princess,” Orihime said.
“Kurosaki-dono!” Haruka gasped.
“You know him?”
“Only too well. He often appears in social functions. Forgive me, Orihime-sama, but a couple of parties that your aunt Rangiku hosted were held here. Kurosaki-dono often attended since he and Rangiku-sama are friends,” Haruka said apologetically.
“It’s okay,” Orihime said. She could forgive her aunt readily. She knew that Matsumoto Rangiku had an addiction to parties and drinks. It wouldn’t be surprising if she used her niece’s mansion to host one of her grand social gatherings.
“What’s his name?” Orihime asked.
“Kurosaki Ichigo,” Haruka replied, getting the towel and wrapping it around her mistress.
Kurosaki Ichigo, Orihime thought.
“But I worry about you mistress,” Haruka said.
“Why?”
“Kurosaki-dono isn’t a very approachable person. His Highness is often seen frowning and isn’t very good company when I saw him in Rangiku-sama’s parties. He would often leave her partner and sulk off somewhere,” Haruka answered.
Orihime regarded Haruka with surprise. She felt a bit nervous about what was to come. So Kurosaki Ichigo was the common royal brat? She was deeply regretting her decision now. She didn’t want a husband that would ignore her and make her do his every whim. She would be married to a frowning young man who was surely fat, ugly and insecure. She laughed to herself for her overactive imagination but sobered almost instantly. She didn’t want to be treated like an object. But she got herself into this mess. It was her fault too. She wasn’t marrying for love as she dreamt when she was a little girl. She was marrying for convenience, just like many nobles. She wasn’t as lucky as her parents who were arranged, but fell in love with each other in the end.
“I can’t do anything now,” Orihime said, forcing a smile. “I can do it, don’t you worry.”
Haruka nodded reluctantly, helping Orihime get into her night gown. She brushed her mistress’ hair until it grew shiny and soft. She prayed to the heavens that her mistress would finally get the comforting future that she deserved.
End! Well, that was long! PHEW! I don’t want to change the names to western format and I will keep the –sama and –dono honorific, even though Orihime’s and Ichigo’s titles are western. I’m just merging east and west. Or else, to put it simply, I’m too lazy to make up new names and such (ROFL). And yeah, Orihime didn’t forget who she was. She just blocked out her memories. She didn’t want to remember. 😀
R&R! 😀
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Sorry for the late update. 😀 Been busy with school and stuff. Thanks for all those who read and reviewed my story.
I’m not usually one to be mean/mad in my author’s notes at the beginning of the story, but I just wanted to say, for some people who sent me messages in my account here for this story that if you’re angry that it has UlquiHime in this story, then don’t read it. It’s just part of my objective as a writer to not only focus on just IchiHime and to put some conflict in the story. Forgive me if my writing is not up to your taste.
As for many more who like the way I write, thank you so much for being open to many ideas. 😀 *hugs
Okay, here I go…
Chapter 4
Forbidden Delights
Orihime cracked a gray eye to the sound of the birds chirping mercilessly outside her window. She had intended to rest, but she did not expect her to be resting for so long. When she looked out the window, the sun was already over bright. She wondered why Haruka did not wake her.
She sighed in relief. At least I meet with the prince well into the afternoon, she thought with relief.
But still, this was no time to dawdle.
She reached for the golden rope hanging on the side of her bed – a thing which when pulled, would call on Haruka to her bedside.
She pulled it and waited patiently.
A smile graced her full lips as she heard hurried footsteps approach her bedroom door. After a few more seconds, a knock came. “Orihime-sama, may I come in?” Haruka’s gentle but rushed voice came.
“Yes,” Orihime answered.
Haruka came in, her face wreathed in smiles. “What is it that you require, Orihime-sama?”
“Could you just take care of my bath please? And a change of clothes,” Orihime said. “I’ll just prepare the rest for myself.”
“Oh no!” Haruka said. “I possible cannot let you deal with things on your own. Let me help you, Orihime-sama.”
Orihime gave the woman a small smile. She could see the sincerity pouring out of the older woman’s dark eyes, and she could never deny her of what she wishes. Not now that she had caused her so much pain and anxiety.
“Alright then,” Orihime said in a hushed voice.
Haruka beamed, “Hai, Orihime-sama.”
Orihime waited patiently on her bed as Haruka went to the adjoining room, puttering with things here and there for her mistress. Orihime could smell the faint scents of oil, soap and perfume and she sighed.
This was the life she was accustomed to. She remembered when she was in Inuzuri. There were times when she did not even take a bath for a whole day if she were too busy. Sometimes she would just find the nearest clean well and scrub herself, or just whatever means to be clean and presentable.
She wondered briefly about her friends and how they would come to live with her as her servants. No, not my servants, she scolded herself. My friends… welcome to my home.
However, she was bothered as to how they would accept that their Orihime was actually from English nobility, with riches far greater than they could ever imagine. The auburn-haired beauty sincerely hoped they wouldn’t shun her for who she really is.
She closed her eyes to block out the sudden emotion that she was feeling.
“Orihime-sama,” Haruka said, mildly surprising her from her reverie. “The bath is ready.”
Orihime nodded and followed Haruka into the bath room where the tub eagerly awaited. Orihime took off her clothes and settled herself into the warm, perfumed water. She sighed contentedly, buy almost felt guilty afterwards by the pleasure she was feeling, while her friends probably were suffering and struggling to live another day again.
“Haruka,” Orihime said, as the other woman soaked and brushed her hair.
“Yes?”
“Have you already called for the servants I asked you to hire?” she asked.
“Yes, Orihime-sama,” Haruka responded gladly. “In fact, they will be summoned here at dusk. They shall start working tomorrow.”
“Good, good,” Orihime said in relief. “Thank you, Haruka.”
She could hear the older woman’s giggle of delight in pleasing her mistress and Orihime smiled at such loyalty this woman showed. She would never understand why someone like her, who abandoned her old home, would deserve such a wonderful lady in her service.
Orihime regarded Haruka with gentle eyes as she questioned, “Have you found anyone special yet, Haruka-san?”
Haruka instantly reddened at this and shifted her attention on the work – giving it too much attention. “W-why do you ask, Orihime-sama?” she said, obviously frazzled.
“Hmm…” Orihime said, “I was wondering why someone as beautiful and kind as you would remain under my command when you could have found happiness elsewhere.”
Haruka gave her a strong look, “I love my work, Orihime-sama. I have vowed to the late Lady Inoue that I will take care of you with all I can give.”
Orihime smiled gently. “Thank you for that,” she replied, closing her eyes and forgetting the world once in a while. She didn’t want to think of what was to come between her and the man named Kurosaki Ichigo.
“Are you nervous, Orihime-sama?” Haruka asked out of nowhere.
Orihime opened her eyes and let the words sink in inside of her. She really didn’t know. She felt anxiety creep over her, but somehow, a strong feeling suppressed it. Like, she was ready to face anything as of now.
“I do not know,” she replied sincerely.
“What are you still doing here, Ichigo?” Kurosaki Isshin asked, eyeing his son with an amused eyes. “Aren’t you going to meet your bride-to-be tonight? You must get ready.”
“Hn,” Ichigo replied, saying nothing. He looked outside the window of his study, remembering the words from his grandfather’s mouth the very first time he gave the old man a visit.
“I shall not give you your rights,” the king said. “Even though you are the son of my eldest child… as of now, you are my oldest grandchild, but still, I cannot give it to a half-breed. Marry a full blooded noblewoman, and I shall give you what is rightfully yours.”
Ichigo’s fists tightened, fire sparking in his eyes. He would not lie to himself. He did not want the throne. He did not want any of it… but his mother… oh his sweet, loving mother.
“Promise me, Ichigo… promise me to be of service to your country. Something I never did do… Please.”
“Y-yes, mother.”
She died. There she went, up to the heavens… where she rightfully belonged, leaving him with a burden that felt so sickening and great that it crunched his soul.
“You want help?” Urahara Kisuke said, opening his fan as he was about to leave the things he personally delivered to Ichigo. Some things that no one should know… not even his very own father.
“Help in what?” Ichigo snapped.
“You know what I mean,” Kisuke said in that annoying manner of his. “I heard of what happened between you and the king.”
Ichigo gritted his teeth, not understanding how such information can reach this man’s ears. “What about it?” he said, lowering his head.
“I might just have the right girl for you,” the merchant said, enigma shrouding his voice.
“The right… what?” Ichigo asked in disbelief. “What do you mean? Are you going to bring some European noblewoman here in Japan?”
Kisuke chuckled in a manner that made Ichigo grit his teeth harder together. “No, Kurosaki-sama… she’s already here.”
“Already here?”
“Yes. She’s a pure noblewoman living in Japan.”
“Do you take me for a fool, Urahara?!” Ichigo half-yelled. “There are no pure noblemen here. The only ones I have heard of are the Inoues and they are already six feet under the earth!”
“My, my, you underestimate my ability to dig information, Kurosaki-sama,” Kisuke said, eyeing him squarely. “It might surprise you, but the youngest child of Inoue-sama is very much alive. And she is a young woman right now. Of marriageable age.”
Ichigo stiffened. Could such a woman be the answer to his problems? He contemplated, then searched Urahara’s face. There was a glint in his eyes – an indication that he really meant what he said.
“Where is this girl whom you speak of?” Ichigo asked, relenting.
“She has left her residence,” the man replied, eliciting a shocked and angered expression from the orange-haired prince. “But I have now found her. According to the servants, Inoue Orihime-sama, princess of the Inoue clan and the remaining heiress of the Brooklyn fortune, has left their estate here in Japan because of shock and depression upon her family members’ deaths. Now she is among the slums of Inuzuri, living the life of a peasant.”
Ichigo’s brows furrowed. Which silly noblewoman would sacrifice all of her wealth to depression and live in the slums? But he did not voice out that thought.
“From what the sources say, she has become quite a beautiful sight – a flower unbefitting the torn areas she is living in.”
Ichigo contemplated for a moment before giving a slight huff. “Find this woman, and bring her to me. I’ll pay you for your trouble.”
Urahara Kisuke grinned. “Gladly.”
And that was the start of it all. Truth be told, Ichigo didn’t mind at all that he hadn’t met this lady. He was far from a besotted romantic who still hoped for a marriage out of love. This was the real world, and his grandfather was making him taste every single drop of the bitter medicine life has to offer. But he would take it – as the first Princess Masaki’s son, he would take on this challenge head on.
Isshin observed his son in silence, his eyes softening into a sad hue. He never wanted his son to suffer for something that was not his fault. As a father, he should have known better than to let the young man venture and meet his grandfather. That sick old man has now forced Ichigo to do the unthinkable.
But as the older man looked at his son’s eyes reflected on the fine mirror of his study, Isshin saw the familiar fire of determination that once sparked the eyes of his lovely wife. Isshin knew that when Ichigo had that look he was ready, and all the dark-haired man could do was sigh in compliance.
“Tonight, right?” Isshin asked once more.
“Yes,” Ichigo answered.
“Then we better get ready for her.”
“Orihime-sama,” Haruka said. “Your friends are here.”
Orihime’s lips broke into a full smile as she hastened to meet her friends. She had just finished preparing for her meeting with her mysterious ‘fiancée’ and was feeling the huge waves of anxiety settle in. But at the thought that her friends were already in her house thrilled her. Haruka had assured her that she had explained quite well to the group of the circumstances involved about their hiring and their new mistress’ situation, but still, Orihime wanted to explain herself.
“Orihime!” a voice pierced the air as Orihime’s foot finally alighted on the reception hall. Tatsuki, already in her work clothes, ran towards Orihime at full speed, hugging her hard that knocked her breath out of her.
“T-Tatsuki-chan!” Orihime exclaimed. “It’s so nice to see you!”
The raven-haired girl finally let go of her and to her surprise, whacked her hard on the head. Orihime looked at Tatsuki in surprise, and was even more shocked to see tears forming at the edges of her ebony eyes.
“You idiot,” Tatsuki said as more tears flowed down her cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell us who you really were?”
Orihime’s eyes suddenly went downcast. “Would it have mattered who I really was?”
“Well, not really,” Renji interrupted from behind them, pinching Orihime’s cheeks. “Don’t get us worried like that again, you brat.”
Orihime laughed as she went from hugging Tatsuki to Renji, who blushed as red as his hair, then patted the auburn-haired girl on the head.
“Orihime-nee!” Jinta yelled, with a sniffling Ururu behind him. They both hugged Orihime.
“I’m sorry if I made you leave, nee-chan,” Ururu said sadly, looking at her toes.
Orihime let out a kind smile and crouched down to the girl’s height level, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t say that Ururu,” she said. “I would do anything for you all, you should know that by now.”
“Yeah, b-but,” Jinta said, who was looking around in awe. “You never told us that you were this rich!”
Orihime laughed slightly. “This is also your home now.”
“And you look like a princess!” Jinta added, his face bearing that usual admiration he gives whenever he looks at his onee-san.
Tatsuki was staring at her friend with a gentle expression, “I always knew there was something too beautiful about you that did not belong to Inuzuri.”
The noblewoman looked back at her best friend, her eyes sad, “I had to leave…”
“We know,” Renji said, “You don’t need to explain anymore.
Jinta, Ururu, and Tatsuki nodded in agreement. “That assistant of yours sure was kind,” Tatsuki added. “She explained everything already.”
Oh Haruka, Orihime thought, smiling to herself.
“Now she said that you would meet the chap today,” Tatsuki said in a serious tone.
“Yes,” Orihime replied.
“You don’t have to do it, nee-chan!” Jinta said loudly. “I’ll protect you if ever he’s mad… ya know, if you don’t go!”
“It’s really okay, Jinta,” Orihime said. “Please stop worrying about me.”
“If we live here, you’ll be married into another household,” Tatsuki said. “We won’t be seeing you. It’s the same situation if we just stay in Inuzuri.”
“I shall be coming here everyday,” Orihime said. “The Inoue estate belongs to me now. I cannot leave it as it is.”
Her friends’ faces brightened.
“Orihime-sama,” Haruka said from behind her. “It is time for us to leave. Urahara-sama’s carriage is already waiting at the grounds and he is awaiting you in the porch.”
Strangely, a slight cold washed over Orihime’s guts. She did not trust her voice to utter a word as she smiled at her friends in goodbye. All of their eyes were concerned and it broke her heart making them worry like that. With one last look, she gave them a reassuring glance and went outside the great oak doors.
Orihime stepped outside, with Urahara in a formal attire that she had never seen him wear, waiting. The man smiled at her with his usual enigmatic smile and bowed deeply. He ushered her over the grand carriage waiting for her, bearing the governor’s seal.
“You look absolutely heavenly, Orihime-sama,” the light-blonde said, eyeing her with appreciation.
She blushed slightly. “Thank you very much.”
“Ah, I forgot,” Kisuke said, grinning apologetically. “I forgot to introduce to you, Kurosaki-sama’s closest friend, Ulquiorra-sama.”
Orihime’s brows furrowed in confusion as Kisuke gestured to the man beside her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she finally realized that it wasn’t only the two of them in the carriage. This man, who had a very dark and stoic presence that melded with the dim confines of the carriage, was present, his silence not making his presence known.
When Orihime finally took a good look at him, her hand came up to her mouth.
Ulquiorra… No wonder the name sounded so familiar.
It was the man who rescued her that day… when Ururu was so ill.
The ebony-haired man slightly bowed his head in acknowledgement, his green eyes cold and his pale skin in contrast with the dark interiors of the carriage.
Orihime was still eyeing him in surprise, unable to return a gesture of etiquette. Her heart was thumping so fast that she could hear them bang in her ears. Her stormy eyes searched for any signs of recognition in his stoic face, but there was none. The fluttering butterflies in her stomach ceased dramatically. She suddenly felt sad that this man beside her did not recognize her anymore.
But who would? She had changed from that worn out girl with a tattered kimono back to the English noblewoman she was – with all the make-up, clothing, and accessories befitting a woman of her rank.
She gave him another quick look, drinking in his noble bearing. She instantly regretted that this man was not the person she was about to wed, and that she also had the misfortune of knowing that he was Kurosaki Ichigo’s best friend.
“Orihime-sama,” Kisuke said.
She jerked awake from her thoughts and regarded her companion with a questioning expression.
“As I was saying, Ulquiorra Schiffer will be the one to lead you to the prince once you arrive at the manor,” Kisuke continued. “Since he will be the one who will report to the king of the union that is going to happen.”
“T-thank you, Ulquiorra-sama,” Orihime said, feeling more depressed at the role this gentle man in a cold mask was taking in her life.
“It is my job, do not thank me,” Ulquiorra replied in that deep voice of his. The sound caressed Orihime’s ears, making a heat of a blush threaten to creep to her cheeks. She quickly suppressed these dangerous thoughts.
You are to be wed, Orihime! You have no time and luxury to fall in love with this man!
Unbeknownst to her, Urahara Kisuke was observing her actions in an amused manner, before opening his mouth and saying, “Are you alright, Orihime-sama?”
Orihime looked up at him. “Yes, I am,” she said, feeling her resolve quickly come together.
The ride suddenly lurched to a stop. A portly man opened the door for them, with Kisuke quickly stepping outside first, followed by Ulquiorra. Orihime’s whose knees suddenly felt weak, had trouble stepping down of the carriage, when a hand suddenly shot out to grab her gloved ones, lending her balance.
Her eyes shot up in surprise as she traced the owner of the pale hand. It was Ulquiorra.
She reddened incredibly, lowering her head to hide her blush from those intense green eyes. “I’m sorry for that,” Orihime said, flustering slightly.
When his strong hand left hers, she suddenly missed their presence. Unconsciously, she held her hand close to her chest, feeling her heart pound against the part of her body he touched.
“Welcome to the Kurosaki manor, Urahara-sama, Ulquiorra-sama, Inoue-dono,” a man with gray hair and kind deep blue eyes said, bowing gracefully as he gestured them into the reception room.
“I shall take my leave now, then,” Kisuke said, bowing slightly to Ulquiorra and Orihime.
Orihime felt her insides squirm as she remembered that Ulquiorra would be the one to lead her into meeting Kurosaki Ichigo. She watched helplessly as Kisuke hastily left, leaving her with the silent man.
“Let’s go,” he said, piercing the quiet grand hall with his ominous voice.
Orihime nodded and followed his sure footsteps, observing him with admiration from behind. He walked lithely, with a purpose to his every footstep, as if nothing could ever stop him now. She could not quite read him, which was maybe why she liked to be close to him… and maybe why she was so attracted to him.
“In here,” he said, opening a door painted in white. He walked right in, clearing his throat to make his presence known to another man who guarded the doors.
“Ulquiorra Schiffer, Count of Wickle and Inoue Orihime, Countess of Brooklyn,” the man announced.
Orihime followed Ulquiorra into a huge room filled with ornate decorations – a design that meets East and West. There were Japanese paintings and fine Chinese pottery, along with Elizabethan sculptures and brass furniture. Expensive gold and silver lined the cabinets and tables, the seats with a fine velvet cushion to them. The Royal seal crossed with the Governor’s seal perched atop the fireplace, symbolizing the power the man she was going to marry was going to inherit.
The draperies were parted to reveal the stars, winking at her mischievously. This made her bite her red lips, remembering what Ulquiorra said to her, and the irony of her position right now, standing between the man she was very much attracted to and the man she was about to marry. The stars were there to witness her glory… and her downfall.
Heart… stars…
Heat… cold…
Green… gray…
Her knees were shaking once again, but she suppressed it, walking to the center of the room where Ulquiorra gestured her to sit.
“Wait for them,” he said, giving away a hint of concern in his lifeless emerald eyes which Orihime caught, making her smile slightly.
“Kurosaki Isshin, Governor of His Majesty’s Colonial Japan, and Kurosaki Ichigo, First Prince of England,” the man announced once more, making Orihime jolt awake and stand up, her feet feeling so cold that she wasn’t sure they were there anymore.
“Ah, sit down, sit down,” the older man with dark hair said, smiling at Orihime with warmth. She was filled with relief that the governor wasn’t a really old man who was very cold and unwelcoming. Instead, he was the exact opposite. Orihime knew that he had to be somewhere well into his forties, but his physique and smile was youthful, his steps filled with purpose and noble bearing that she doubted that he wasn’t of the English nobility. However, his Japanese looks of ebony hair and eyes showed that he was not, but this did not lessen the instant respect Orihime had for him. His eyes were intelligent and assessing, but still soft. His smile was clearly sincere, with a hint of a boyish tone to them. His slightly unruly beard and hair made his looks less formal, and it was a good sight.
Orihime curtsied to Kurosaki Isshin gracefully, giving off a megawatt smile that made the old man chuckle.
“This woman would be your undoing, Ichigo,” he said gruffly, patting his companion’s back.
This made Orihime’s eyes, who were appraising the older man before, land on the man beside Kurosaki Isshin – the man she was about to marry.
Kurosaki Ichigo was also not the man she expected him to be.
From what Haruka told her, Orihime imagined an ugly brat who often wore a scowl and had an overbearing attitude about him. Or even perhaps a very handsome guy who looked close to a girl, with feminine features and movements that made him very narcissistic. But the man before her was far from her imaginations.
His physique was similar to his father’s – rugged, tall and strapping, underneath those elegant clothes of his. His skin was a wonderful cross of the Asian and European hue – not too fair and not too pale. Just right. His face was shaped in a wonderfully masculine mold, not feminine at all, with all its angles and edges. He had strong cheekbones that gave way to deep, chocolate-brown eyes. His hair was unusual – a bright carrot-like orange arranged in wild spikes. His thin mouth was pulled down in a frown, a feature that Orihime noted to be the only thing she got right, since it was what Haruka had said about him.
Kurosaki Ichigo was handsome in a rugged way, far from the elegant man beside Orihime. He walked with agility and his eyes were alive and observant. But his aura repelled people. His look gave off a warning to all those who would dare to meet his stare, as if he was challenging anyone who could hold him off for more than a second.
However, Orihime was entranced by this. She was afraid of what kind of man he might be, and she had a slight conclusion that he could be a rough and cold husband – something she did not like to have.
Unaware to her warring mind, Ichigo’s mind was in chaos too, overcome by surprise and annoyance. Annoyance because he knew that his father would start teasing him madly and surprise because Inoue Orihime was also far from what he had expected.
He had expected a cold and haughty woman who had her noble arrogance mixed with the rowdy commoners’ traits. A feral woman. But the young woman before him was not. Her deep purple dress accentuated every curve of her luscious body, which was probably the best female form he had ever seen. A very noticeable chest begged for attention despite the modest collar of her dress, which gave way to small hips then a great bust. She was fairly tall too. Ichigo assessed that her height reached just below his chin. His eyes went to her face – the face of an angel, a goddess. She had big, stormy gray eyes that looked innocent, yet aware. Her skin was creamy and soft to the eyes. Her hair, something that noblewomen often wore in buns and other designs just to tame their locks, were simply formed into soft curls at the ends, showing that her auburn hair was beautiful enough to be let loose.
There was an over-all gentleness and warmth about her that reminded him of his mother.
Mother…
Now that he thought about it, she does resemble his mother.
Is this some kind of sick twist of fate?
“You know,” Isshin said, with a hint of laughter in his voice, “you can stop staring at her now and start introducing yourself.”
Ichigo threw his father a filthy look. It was the second time in a matter of minutes that the older man had teased him. The carrot-top closed his eyes in devastation as he imagined the days that would come.
“Good evening, Kurosaki-sama,” Orihime said, her voice startling Ichigo from his thoughts. “I am Inoue Orihime.”
She curtsied afterwards, giving off another smile, but not as bright as the one she gave Isshin. Ichigo couldn’t blame her. This was a political marriage after all.
“Kurosaki Ichigo,” he responded, bowing back.
“Enough of this informality,” Isshin said, waving his hand in discomfort. “An impending marriage should be met with a happy disposition, not a mechanical one! Be more ecstatic, boy! You’re bride’s beauty is the stuff of legends and fairy tales!”
Orihime’s eyes widened when Ichigo reddened like a strawberry, whacking his father’s head so hard that the man toppled over. She gasped as she ran to assist the governor, but a hand halted her.
“Let them be,” Ulquiorra said, closing his eyes in impatience. “They always act like barbarians.”
“What did you say, you bastard?!” Ichigo grunted, turning his full-blown angry stare at Ulquiorra, who just huffed and looked away.
Orihime giggled at this, earning her a surprised look from Isshin, Ichigo and Ulquiorra.
She blushed at this and said, almost apologetically, “I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re all so lively.”
“A good mind and a good sense of humor too,” Isshin nodded approvingly. “Such a lucky bloke you are, my son!”
Ichigo ignored his father and just looked at Orihime. This was probably more than he bargained for.
A meeting filled with wrong impressions and forbidden delights, that was how one could summarize this night.
And the stars were the witnesses once again to this encounter.
[Side note: I just discovered what a beta/beta reader is a few weeks ago coz I’ve been curious. I see my favorite writers thank their betas and something like that. I am now saying sorry if my works have typos and errors. Since I don’t know what betas are, I don’t have one. Haven’t had one. Sooo lame of me… Thanks to Eneyla-nee for enlightening me on this matter. ^_^]
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Thanks to all those who reviewed. Really wonderful people you are.
Blitch – I shall read your works when I finally have the time. And I shall gladly leave a review. Thanks! 😀
Eneyla-nee – I remembered asking you, but it was a long time ago. 😀 Thanks for the review.. 😀
And to all those who did, I love you all~
Vergil – here’s the surprise. *lol
You guys might wonder why I chose this title for this chapter. You shall soon find out why… it just seems befitting. 😀
Chapter 5
Hana to Akuma
(Flowers and Devils)
The wedding was over. The excruciating anxiety, done.
Kurosaki Orihime now sat in her bedroom, a single candle illuminating the darkness that surrounded it. She didn’t find the will to light up the other sticks. Her wedding had been over hours ago, and hours from now, it will be morning.
She looked at herself in the vanity mirror, her body still clad in the extravagant wedding gown she wore. Her new husband did not speak to her at all during the wedding. He left her to her own devices.
Not that she minded. She was happy about this, just looking at the fake faces of the fraudulent well-wishers made her sick to the core, and she didn’t trust herself to open her mouth. She just returned the phony gestures.
And her mind was far away, staring at the best man of the wedding. The man named Ulquiorra Schiffer.
She sighed to herself as she wondered how it would feel like if the pale-skinned man was the one she married. He had been especially kind of her at the reception of her wedding; assisting her while her own husband didn’t mind her. The way his hand felt on hers when she had difficulty walking. Ulquiorra never left Kurosaki’s side, and Orihime wondered if he was tasked to remain there so that he would be the one to look after her.
Her impressions and thoughts of redeeming Kurosaki Ichigo in her eyes disappeared during that day. He was an uncaring man. He did not even bother to engage in a civil conversation or even return the gestures of the people who greeted him. He would just nod and stare. And his stare would frighten people.
Orihime would sometimes suppress a chuckle at the way the people would react, but no one dared to do that. The bright orange-haired young man, even though he was like that, was still the first grandson of the King of England. No one would dare incur his wrath.
She had heard that two days from now, they would set sail for England for her to finally meet with the King. She felt excited, thinking of the days she would spend on a ship, looking at the open seas. She closed her eyes as she dreamt of a pirate ship attacking them, with little blue men as a pirate crew, tying them to the sails and letting the birds feed off their bodies.
Inoue Orihime had a vast and possibly, gruesome imagination. But she loved imagining things. And she laughed mentally at the funny sight of her husband dangling atop the highest point of the sails, flailing and asking someone to put him down.
Her imagination back then let her picture for more than one time what it felt like to be in her own wedding – united with the man who made her dreams come true, who would make her heart soar and flutter, who would make her flush, who would sing her praises and love everything about her. Her handsome man – who would protect him with his body, heart, and soul. A man she would swear lifetimes of love and devotion to. Their wedding would be the most epic of all weddings – an event to cap off the love story of destiny and unending loyalty and romance. Extravagance would adorn it, but then none of it would matter since the best thing about it would be the man she would share it with.
Then he would sweep her up in her arms and carry her out of the others’ range of vision. He would take her to a quiet place away from the world and kiss her softly. Then with a passion, taking her to the highest points of heaven, letting her float to the most ecstatic form of bliss. He would make sweet, slow and passionate love to her, and she would feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
But today, at her wedding, the real thing was nothing like her imaginations. There was no husband by her side. There was only a man with orange hair – a prince, yes, but he was not quite there. She could only see his back and she could not stand by his side. A man so distant that she could not even touch him. There was no love. There was only the ceremony, but it was empty. There was no love story, no destiny, no lifetimes of devotion. They were committed to be husband and wife, but only in name.
And the real tragedy was, Orihime was staring off into the eyes of a man she should not desire, a man who could make her happy just by giving off small gestures out of his cold exterior. A man who could have made her dreams come true, if only he was the one who was in her husband’s place.
Green, gray…
Gray collided with green.
He stared back at her, a hint of a question in his eyes as to why she had been staring at him during the whole affair.
She would lower her gaze and blush. She could never tell him.
Even in the short span of time she had known him, she had grown to like him – be so attracted to his presence that she would forget everything.
Orihime blinked as she stared again into the mirror, a tear unconsciously slipping down her cheeks. After the wedding, she was instantly assisted to her new bedchambers in the Kurosaki Manor. She was accompanied by a servant, since her husband already went ahead and did not look back.
More tears came to her eyes. She did all of these for the sake of saving her friends. Yes she did so; she had already spared them by going back to her old life and giving them hope. That should be enough to make them happy and that should make her happy.
But why were these tears coming out from her eyes?
She gasped as a hand suddenly shot out of the darkness, wiping the tears away from her eyes. Her eyes widened as she looked into the hardened gaze of something sinister.
Black eyes with yellow irises.
Black and yellow, gray…
Gray collided with black and yellow…
Those eyes were the only things she could see in the darkness of her room, piercing through her body and making her shake in fear. She started to move, to get out of the monster’s grasp, but his hand went around her cheeks and grabbed her face firmly.
She winced at the pain she felt from the grip, more tears flowing from her eyes.
How did this thing get into my room?! Who are you? Please… let me go…
The face moved closer to the light and to the side of her face. She could feel its cool breath tickle her nape and closer to the back of her right ear.
A whisper came, out of a voice she had heard before.
“It’s me.”
Ulquiorra could not sleep. He was on his bed, lying beside his discarded shirt. He stared at the velvet canopy above him, trying not to think – trying not to feel.
He was completely immersed in thought, thinking about the beautiful young woman who seemed to be quite smitten to him. He had caught her many times, staring at him with longing in those gray orbs of hers.
He was bothered by it. No one has ever given him that look, as if he was wanted. He didn’t believe in the existence of romantic emotion. Love, in general.
What is a heart?
What makes it beat?
Why do we love?
Why would someone look at one person and see the world fade to the background, only picking up the tiny gestures and tiny movements as if that person is the only thing that existed?
How does it feel to love someone?
What does it take to love someone?
Why would someone risk their sanity for love?
There is no heart.
There is only foolishness for those who consider themselves in love.
He had experienced it first hand. From his mother.
His mother, the daughter of a duke and a geisha. An unwanted child whose beauty was used and abused. But then she met that man while she was pregnant with Ulquiorra – a man who took her in and married her. A man who gave her a ray of hope.
Except that the light coming from his was pitch black.
Ulquiorra knew that his mother loved that man strongly. His adoptive father. But he was a harsh and sinful man – a man fraught with ambition and desire. He was corrupted and twisted. But he was someone Ulquiorra admired.
The green-eyed young man admired anyone with a sense of direction in life and one who took things in great care and calculation.
He did not mind that he was left alone here in Japan to take care of their properties. He did not want to see his mother begging his father’s attention. He did not want to see those cold brown eyes beating the life out of his mother.
He did not want any of it – that love. All he needed was power.
He had met Ichigo when his ambitious father took the time to connect him with the son of the first princess. His father had reminded him that Kurosaki Ichigo was the next in line to the throne. Ulquiorra needed this friendship for a good, political cause.
But then he started liking Ichigo as a person, despite the orange-haired man being stubborn and loud, his complete opposite. But he was serious and determined, so that earned him Ulquiorra’s respect. And they had been genuine friends ever since.
Today would be the first time that he truly envied something Ichigo had…
Why was he thinking about his best friend’s bride?
“It’s me.”
“Who…?” Orihime uttered, her eyes wide with shock and fear.
The face moved to the light.
A shock of orange hair. A masculine face. A twisted grin.
“Kurosaki-sama,” Orihime gasped, her eyes widening into bigger orbs of gray.
It was her husband. But it didn’t seem like him. He looked the same, but the aura and his eyes.
What’s happening? She yelled frantically in her mind.
A tongue flicked out of the man’s smirking mouth, licking her earlobe in a slow and very wet manner, a bit of his drool trickling to her neck and down to the front of her dress. Orihime stiffened, fearing what was coming and fearing this man who was holding her captive.
“I can’t resist the way you looked during the whole fucking ceremony,” the demon behind her said, inhaling sharply at the side of neck. “You smell so damned good.”
“Ku-kurosa – aaahhnn,” Orihime said, biting back a whimper of pain when Ichigo suddenly sunk his teeth to the side of her neck, drawing out blood. He licked it instantly, his warm mouth creating sensations within Orihime that shook her to the core, making her body squirm in warmth.
What am I doing?! Orihime yelled to herself.
Get out of here!
She fought frantically, thrashing around. But her husband was very strong. He held her down to the chair, effectively making her stay put as he continued to suck and lick her wound, lapping at the wound he had created.
Orihime distracted herself with all the mental strength she could muster. The movement of Ichigo’s lips on her skin and the swirling action of his tongue was making her feel unwanted sensations all over her body.
Especially on a certain region she had never thought about before.
“Tastes so good too,” Ichigo said with a groan. He hoisted her upwards, making the chair fall behind her as she stood up. He roughly made her turn to him, his black and yellow eyes piercing down at her body, staring at her lustfully.
Orihime stood there, frozen. She looked into his eyes – eyes that were not of a normal human being. The eyes of a demon.
“Strip,” he breathed, his eyes boring down on hers.
“W-what?” Orihime gasped, feeling her soul leave her.
“You heard me,” he said in a low and lethal voice. “Or perhaps you want me to do it?”
She felt her body stiffen. She couldn’t move.
What are those eyes?
Kurosaki-sama, why are you doing this?
Why do you look at me like that?
Who are you?!
Her thoughts flew out into the air in an instant as a large hand grabbed her left breast, fondling it in slow, sensual movements that made her gasp.
She felt like a whore. She did not want this to happen to her. She absolutely did not. But then here she was, tingling all over as her breasts seem to push into the tight fabric of her clothing – into the playful hands of this devil in front of her.
“Please…” she breathed. “Don’t do this.”
He gave off a smirk – a wide and mirthless smirk. It was horrifying, yet it was beautiful. His handsome face contorted into a look of pure madness and lust. He bent down so that his face was only inches away from hers.
“Just close your eyes and enjoy yourself,” he said, as he crushed his mouth on to hers.
She moaned in protest, gripping his shoulders hard to push him away from her, but when he wrapped his strong arms around her hips, she knew she had already lost. The force of his kiss sent her mouth aching, yet he would lick the pain off, soothing it with a ravaging mouth and a gentle tongue.
He opened his mouth and bit her lower lip, forcing her to open her mouth to him. His left hand brushed her cheek and went down her neck, tilting it upwards.
Orihime couldn’t breathe with the close contact of his heated body and warm breath. She could only gasp to inhale some well-needed air when Ichigo took the opportunity and slid his ravishing tongue into her mouth.
“Fucking sweet…” he murmured, drool escaping from his lips as he sipped her mouth, hungrily lapping at the interiors, sparing no corner of her untouched.
She let out a small scream as she felt his hands rip the front of her beautiful dress, exposing her bodice. His mouth left hers and went down her neck, sucking and nipping at the skin.
Orihime couldn’t think straight. She did not want this. She felt violated – abused. She felt her heart sinking lower and lower. She felt hot tears streaming down her face as she felt him destroy her bodice, exposing her chest to his waiting gaze.
What she resented the most about this situation was that her body was betraying her. She felt warmth like magma sweep into her body and down to her core. Her husband was handsome – devilishly handsome. And he knew how to use his body… and how to use hers.
The occasional licks and bites. The kisses that went from slow to ravaging. His rough hands touching her face, neck and was now threatening to expand its territory down her chest. Her mind was going insane. It was reeling with rejection, fear, doubt, anger, pleasure… pain.
“N-no,” she said again, more tears coming from her opaque gray eyes.
“Yes,” the man before her said, gazing at her with his maniacal eyes. “You can’t say no. You’re mine.”
Mine…
I wish I were Ulquiorra-sama’s.
“Ulq – ” she murmured, in a silent prayer.
She felt his grip around her tighten as his eyes went feral – angry. She shuddered as his mouth pulled to a frown.
“Fucking bitch,” he growled. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you looked at that bastard during our wedding.”
Orihime’s eyes widened. She gasped loudly when the devil’s rough and warm fingers pinched her right nipple. He chuckled darkly.
“See? You like the way I touch you,” he said cruelly. “You belong to me. This ripe little body of yours belongs to me. One more look you give to that fucking bastard and I’ll kill him.”
“Don’t…” Orihime pleaded, wincing again as he grabbed hold of her full right breast, kneading it mercilessly. “Ahh…”
“I’ll rip his head off and feed it to the dogs,” he threatened again, his husky voice reaching her ears as cold washed down inside her body, making her quake in fear.
“Be a respectful and obedient little wife and I’ll spare him,” he added, gripping her breast more as if to challenge her. She let out a small scream as she felt the ache of her breasts consume her and the image of Ulquiorra’s bloody head tossed to the dogs.
She cried silently as she gave a slow nod, surrendering herself to an inevitable fate in the hands of the devil.
Where was that human being that seemed so cold hours ago?
You could have just remained cold to me, rather than torturing me like this… and violating me.
“Good,” he said, taking off his shirt. He grinned wider when he rubbed his bare chest against her taut breasts, eliciting another gasp from the auburn-haired woman. “Such damn good-looking breasts.”
He knelt down so that he would be on level to her heaving chest and licked one nipple. Orihime closed her eyes, hating herself for letting him do this at the same time afraid of what this demon might do to his own innocent best friend.
Thoughts were soon forgotten when he opened his warm mouth and consumed her right breast, taking in all that he could, sucking at the soft flesh like a hungry child. Orihime bit back a groan as her hands unconsciously went to his spiky locks and gripped them tight, pulling a few strands off his scalp. The devil didn’t seem to take heed at the short sparks of pain from his head, as he chuckled deeply into her breast, eliciting another choked back groan as the sound produced vibrations that further aroused her already sensitive breasts.
He parted from the contact for a second and said, “I like it when you pull me hard.”
Disgust filled Orihime again. Her hazed eyes looked outside of the huge window adorned with velvet curtains and draperies. The crescent moon shone above them, along with those accursed stars. They were laughing at the utter perverted actions they were making – and the reactions she was making. They were mocking her again.
Stars…
Fade to the darkness.
A firm grip to her left breast and a slow, long lick to her other nipple removed Orihime’s gaze from the accursed night. The beast was staring at her as he sucked on one aching bud, grazing his teeth and biting it delicately as his tongue rolled and flicked on it, wetting the pearl with his warm saliva.
“Look at me while I do this to you,” he said, as he massaged her other breast with his free hand while his other hand went around and grabbed her backside, still covered by the remaining folds of the dress, effectively imprisoning her against him. The action brought her right breast further into his wanton mouth, and she let out a startled gasp.
“Kurosaki… sama,” she said, her head lolling backwards as waves of sensation took over her body, impairing any rational thought. All she could think about where those wet lips on her right breast and those calloused hands on the other…
“I’ll make you scream my name,” he said, as his mouth turned its attention to the other breast but not before marking her other one with a swift bite and a long sensual lick.
She felt her knees give in. He instantly felt this and guided her to her back and on the warm rug, but not quite removing his mouth from her left mound. His mouth widened more as he devoured his feast hungrily, his tongue making circular motions on her areola, making the pink color ripen and freshen. Taking her nipple between his teeth, he sucked and pulled, making Orihime wheeze as another wave of pleasure claimed her body.
Her breasts were already becoming over-sensitive as she could feel the soft night air touching it and making it harder as her husband suckled hungrily at the other.
“S-stop,” she said, biting back another whimper as he grazed his teeth over her erect nipple. Surprisingly, he did stop. Orihime looked at him with wonder and was staring to feel grateful when he suddenly started ripping off her skirts.
The sound of tearing fabric invaded her ears as she trembled, watching him look at her hungrily with those insatiable black-and-yellow eyes. He wasted no time as he shredded the last article of clothing off her body, while staring intently into her scared gray orbs.
This time, Orihime truly and purely felt terrified. She knew very little of the matters that existed between a man and a woman, especially after their wedding night. All she knew that it would be sweet and endearing – the seal of true love so deep that nothing could take it back. But this was not like it. The reality was harsh. There was no love in this deed. It was pure, unadulterated lust.
“P-please stop this,” she begged, closing her legs tightly against each other. The creature before her grinned.
“Stop when we’ve come this far?” he said with a smirk. “You’re already enjoying this. And you said you’re mine… you agreed to me, remember, sweetheart?”
Orihime felt shamed and disgusted. She couldn’t deny what this man said. Her heart and mind denied it, but her body didn’t. Her senses were enjoying everything that he was doing to her. And her body was becoming physically attracted to the dominance, power, and lust this man was exuding. His powerful chest reflected beautifully against the yellow light of the candle, and the ethereal light of the moon. His face, though in a mocking grin, was handsome – a perfect male.
She feared his eyes, but her traitorous body was magnetized to its wildness.
He had turned her into a wanton whore.
He kneeled at her bent feet and held firmly onto her knees. She squeaked in protest as he pried them apart, her efforts nullified under his strength. His eyes went lazy with lust as he looked down at her nether region, his smirk growing wider by the second.
She felt her knees buckle when his hand went nearer and touched her. She let out a suppressed scream of protest, moving away from him. But his grip on her thighs intensified.
“Relax, my sweet little virgin,” he cooed. “I’ll make this easy for the both of us, so behave…”
Orihime shuddered with the endearment, her stomach threatening to throw up any time soon. His face moved to the center of his thighs, his breath tingling at the auburn curls. She closed her eyes shut, not wanting to see whatever perversion he was about to do.
“Look at me, kitten,” he rasped. “You’re already wet for me. You are enjoying this.”
“No… I’m not!” she denied firmly, but was silenced into a screech when his mouth touched her traitorously-awaiting core.
“You smell wonderful,” he said, kissing her swollen nether lips and inserting a long finger into it.
“NO! Aaahnn…” Orihime said, her back arching against his long finger, already buried well inside her. He just smirked as he moved it in and out of her, his finger making loud, squelching noises as her sex became wetter and wetter, oblivious to the pants of denial and frustration that her mistress was uttering. He licked off her juices, already seeping out of those pink lips as he inserted another finger, pounding more forcefully within her.
Orihime could feel her insides ripping as she was being sullied by this devil of a man. She could hear the revolting noises of her wet core, the loud squishing noises it made as her husband rammed his fingers deep within her. The pain disappeared into a hazy form of pleasure, which soon intensified as he flicked her swollen clit, making her scream out his name.
She sobbed. It was all she could do. Her body was clearly not going with what she wanted to do right now.
He lapped at her aching sex as more and more of her essence came out. He swirled his tongue deep against her sensitive nub, then sucking intimately, wanting to taste all of her.
“Such a sweet flavor,” he said in between long licks.
Orihime reddened brightly, trying to suppress the earthquake threatening to overtake her body. But she couldn’t. His long fingers, now three of them, were already deep inside her, making her feel consumed. His tongue and teeth were making her wetter and wetter by the second, saliva and cum glistening on her core.
“Ahh… AHHH!” she bawled, as wave after wave of pleasurable sensations took over her frail form, shaking her body, penetrating her soul. A temporary vision of white encumbered her senses as she shuddered, sweat glistening all over her body as she came.
She opened a hazy eye as she watched Kurosaki Ichigo kneel before her, licking hungrily at his fingers, leaving nothing to waste. His eyes looked even darker – more sinister.
She did not trust her voice. She did not say anything.
She was used. She was abused.
That handsome face… how had it become so evil?
He quickly stood up and removed his trousers, then his underwear. Orihime closed her eyes shut to prevent herself from seeing what was not meant to be seen.
Fingers softly touched her face, making her eyes grow alive with shock. She was briefly startled when her vision collided with those monstrous eyes, which were a bit soft now, as if endearing her to do something.
Hovering above her with his arms holding him up for support, he whispered, “Look at me. Look at what you own.”
He kissed her passionately on her already swollen lips, bruising it further, his tongue plundering her mouth. His tongue tasted odd on hers due to the juiced he had licked minutes ago. She blushed intensely at this.
He pulled away from her and positioned himself right before her entrance. Orihime’s eyes widened in horror as she saw what was to come into her for the first time. He was long, hard, and big.
Painful… this would be so painful.
“Judging by the way you came earlier, I highly doubt that I won’t slip easily inside of you,” he said with a dark chuckle.
She felt him brush against her entrance and she stiffened, readying herself to the pain.
“NO!” a yell came.
Orihime opened her eyes as she looked at the man before her, his face contorted in rage and horror.
“NO, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” he yelled again, releasing her thighs and pulling at his hair. “I’M JUST ABOUT TO FUCK HER HARD, DAMN YOU!”
Orihime sat up and looked at the devil with an expression of shock. What’s happening?
She saw the black of his eyes slowly disappear, white consuming it. His yellow irises were getting darker, their color growing closer to brown.
“I’LL GET YOU, YOU FUCKING RETARDED KING!” he yelled once more, as if fighting with someone inside of him.
His body suddenly slackened, then falling forward. But Orihime caught him halfway.
She could feel his shuddering breath against her arms. Using all the strength she could muster, she half-dragged, half-carried him unto her bed. With a flop, she settled her on the white sheets, confused about what was happening.
Eyes, which were now back to their normal state, laid upon her frightened face with regret. He weakly raised a hand for her to hold, which she did so, albeit doubtfully.
“I’m very… sorry,” he said, his eyes closing at sleep consumed his weakened self.
Orihime’s eyes burst into tears as she curled up beside him – confused, dazed, corrupted and weakened.
My stars have faded…
Boo! *heehee
Tell me what you think. 😉
[Yes. YFS shall be… uh, VERY different from my other stories. Hope you accept this turn of events 😉 ]
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Thank you all for the ton of reviews! ^_^ I didn’t expect this kind of reaction. The amount of it, that is.
To all those who asked, I’m a big fan of UlquiHime… yep, I just can’t parade it on fan clubs and stuff like that, so I can only show it in my own works where no one will shoot me down coz I’m the author. Mwhahahahaha..~! XD
And as for the smut, I’m turning my perverted and artistic volumes up to an entirely new level, making this fic dark and sexy. Seductive, yet with a drama so intense that I sure hope it will make you cry. *heehee
Now I go to my 6th chapter, while I still have the chance to update… coz I’ll be really busy. I may go on hiatus. T_T
Blitch – you can totally kill me now. I haven’t read WCBH yet! D: Due to my very tight schedule, I can only write, then give my work to a friend so she can read, then post it on . D:
Chapter 6
Bind and Repel
Morning light broke through the windows. It was still very early though, and Ichigo’s brown eyes registered the sun pouring down on the bed.
Not his bed though.
His mind whirled as thoughts of the events last night tore into his brain and into his soul. His neck twisted to look at the young woman beside him, curled up into a tight ball. Streaks of dried up tears formed on her cheeks and her lips were bruised. The latter was his doing, no doubt about that.
The whole time that his other side was doing that to him, he was aware. He saw her – her tears, her moves of resistance, her flushes, her sighs, her groans, her half-screams… the feeling of his name rolling out of those luscious lips…
Ichigo felt something stir beneath his skin. It was him.
He cursed and stood up. He assessed his naked self, almost pulling his hair in frustration. He nearly took away his wife’s purity. He was about to do an unspeakable act. Yes, they were husband and wife, but he did not want to do it with her.
Not with his wife.
He wanted to do it with someone else.
Kurosaki Ichigo sighed and closed his eyes. His mind was far from sleep yet. He could not even get himself to relax. He could feel him. He was here. He was near.
A low grumble.
A low chuckle.
He could feel him grinning.
“No…” he groaned, shutting his eyes tighter as if rejecting the creeping presence threatening to claim his mind.
“I want to have her, King.”
“No… I thought you didn’t want Miss Inoue. We agreed on wanting her right?”
“I’m not blind King. This one’s hotter by miles.”
“Damn you…” And these were his last thoughts. His last thoughts in where he had complete control over his body though.
However, his senses went blank. The only parts left were his eyes and ears, as if he was looking out into the world using another person’s body. As if he was merely an intruder in his own body.
He had taken over.
No…
He watched himself go outside his door and walk to the suite directly across from his.
“DAMN!” he yelled to himself as he easily slipped in. His wife did not lock her door!
She was sitting in front of the mirror and had a withdrawn look on her face. Her gray orbs had a hint of mixed sadness and joy.
He resisted his legs as he saw it move with purpose towards the sitting form in front of the glass. He screamed. He fought. He thrashed about his twisted mentality.
But he was too strong.
“It’s me,” his lips moved, without his volition.
He was talking. Completely.
He saw her expressive eyes widen. Surprise turned to confusion. Confusion turned to fear.
“Who…?” she said.
The rest were too sickening to remember.
What was sickening was the fact that he could not control himself.
And what was more sickening was the fact that he touched a woman whom he did not love.
A woman he was far from loving.
He was attracted, and that was already a mortal sin for him.
For his pride.
And for his resolve.
He felt something stir within him as he did those immoral things to her. As he kissed those innocent lips. As he licked her everywhere he could see. As he gripped her breasts, nipped them, licked them… swallowed them. As he touched her wet core. As he sipped her juices and lapped at them hungrily.
He nearly went crazy.
But before he could enter her, he managed to stop him.
Ichigo never knew how lust can empower him so much that he would lose control and had barely been able to get back in control.
His eyes wandered back to the sleeping form on the bed.
However did one woman trigger so much inside of him?
Before she could awaken, he opted to leave.
Thirty minutes later, Orihime stirred. She felt a bit sore in some places where a certain someone fiercely made love to.
Made love?
That was not the phrase to describe it.
Plain sex.
She could no longer feel the tears coming. Her eyes were too sore and dried up to cry any more. She had already crumbled into nothingness.
She had never felt so dirty in her entire life.
What redeemed her from the pit of darkness was that she was spared from losing her virginity. He had regained his sanity just in time…
But not quite in time.
His hands… his rough hands that felt so good against her skin. His fingers skillfully alighting on her – first gentle, then rough. His tongue invading her mouth. Her teeth biting her lips. His warm mouth closing in on her breasts, suckling each with passion. His long fingers touching her in areas that she had never thought about before, eliciting pleasure and pain she had never imagined. Pain within her and pleasure on her body…
Orihime felt her eyes quiver, as if wanting to release more tears, but to no avail. The gray orbs merely squinted to the rumpled sheets beside her, indicating that her husband had indeed been sleeping there.
Kurosaki Ichigo.
Who are you?
Who is that man inside of you?
Orihime knew that the man with ebony eyes was not her husband. Kurosaki Ichigo may be a cold man, but she knew deep within herself that he would not hurt people. He was of proud and noble bearing, and he kept to himself quite well even with his snobbish self. That much Orihime could tell by spending a lot of hours with him during the wedding ceremony. He had dignity and self-respect. He wouldn’t do anything low.
Finding the resolve within her to forgive, but not quite forget, she gathered herself and stood up, walking to her trunk to look for some clothes.
She was glad no one assisted her for this morning. No one should see her rumpled self today.
She quickly dressed and made sure that all blotches were lost on her face. There was much to do this day, like meeting with her aunt at the Inoue mansion.
And she needed to get out of this place for a while. Understanding the situation last night and firmly putting in her head that the creature was not her husband didn’t fully guarantee that she would be acting normal if they met. She wasn’t even feeling normal when she’s alone.
All she could think about was that animal’s touch…
ORIHIME!
Her luscious lips pulled to a frown and she sighed, placing her frustrated face in between her soft hands.
“Orihime-sama,” a voice called out from the other side of the door, followed by a few knocks.
“Come in,” Orihime called back, composing herself.
A young woman with jet black hair worn in a bun entered, her demure steps leading her to her new mistress. She gave a quick and graceful bow, showing a shy smile.
“Good morning, Orihime-sama,” she said in a soft voice. “My name is Hinamori Momo. I shall be your personal maid. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to seek my help.”
“Oh,” Orihime said, gracing the younger woman with a brilliant smile that made the girl blush. “No need to be so formal. We can be good friends!”
Momo blushed more. “Oh please, no,” she said, flustered. “Kurosaki-sama won’t like that!”
Orihime quivered at the sound of the name. She laughed at herself for her silliness. She might be talking about Isshin-san.
Does Isshin-san know about the creature?
“I also came here to tell you that Kurosaki-sama wishes to speak with you.”
I hope it’s Isshin-san.
“Kurosaki…?” Orihime uttered in reluctance, praying for some miracle.
“Ah,” Momo said in understanding. “Ichigo-sama.”
No…
Orihime suddenly felt cold as she followed the petite girl out of the room and to her husband’s study. She didn’t know what she would say, or how she would look him in the eye.
Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is made more important than fear.
She recalled. She would not forget.
She would have to push her own thoughts away and focus on what her husband would say.
“I’m… sorry.”
Did he truly mean it?
But how could she possibly forget when her own body would not let her forget?
“My lady, are you alright?” a voice rang in her thoughts.
“Oh,” Orihime said, blushing slightly. “I’m okay.”
“You suddenly looked red and downcast,” Momo commented. “Please tell me if you have a fever. If I do not look after you well, Kurosaki-sama will be upset.”
“No need to worry about me,” Orihime said, giving the smaller girl a warm smile. “I’m just a bit nervous.”
“Ah, please don’t be!” Momo said, with a small smile on her face. “Kurosaki-sama is actually a very nice person! He found me in the streets and gave me a place to live!”
“Isshin-san?” Orihime questioned, perplexed again.
“Ah, no…” Momo said, pausing for a while. “I call Kurosaki Isshin-sama as Master. Kurosaki Ichigo-sama as ouji-sama. But he says to address him Kurosaki-sama, so I try my best.”
“Oh,” Orihime said, this story of Momo’s giving her another conflicting side of Kurosaki Ichigo. She would have her own questions for him once she gets the chance to talk to him.
“He is waiting inside,” Momo said, bowing as she opened the doors for Orihime. The auburn-haired beauty bowed in return and went inside, stilling her thundering nerves.
The study was cold, even as sunshine poured into the window. Bookshelves lined the sides and portraits hung at the walls, giving the room a very educated feel around it.
“Thank you for coming,” a deep voice interrupted her momentary observations. “I was beginning to think you already ran away.”
Orihime’s eyes widened as her head whipped to the direction of the voice that addressed her.
Kurosaki Ichigo was there, sitting in a fine chair with his left foot perched on top of his right knee. He was holding a black, leather-bound book on one hand and had his chin lazily propped up on another. He was gazing intently at her, his eyes inscrutable, but his frown in place. He seemed to be very prepared and detached about this encounter.
“This won’t take a moment, so you need not sit down,” he added.
Orihime nodded, agreeing to his terms. She would not want to sit down near him anyway. She doubted if she could even walk to him or move an inch further anyway.
“I ask you never to go near me again.”
Gray eyes widened incredulously as they clashed with molten chocolate-brown ones. Orihime tried to look for any hints of reluctance, but there was none. The statement was said in such straightforwardness that she could only stare in disbelief.
“What…?” she uttered, not trusting her voice.
“I ask you never to go near me again,” Ichigo repeated, eyeing her squarely. “I am not sure if I will be able to manage the next time I sexually assault you. It was sheer luck that I was able to pull through last night. So now, I ask you to stay away from me. I shall only see you in functions and public appearances or in any occasion in which our presence together is absolutely needed. Other than that, you are not to see me. If you need anything from me, you can have Momo attend to your needs and I will make sure the rest is taken care of. You are to lock your bedchambers at all times. I have installed additional locks, just in case. Close the windows and secure them. The night is already too cold for your frail self, you don’t need an open window.”
“But – ” she started to say, but was interrupted.
“I shall allow you to go out and do whatever you please, as long as you go with Momo. If you wish to go out alone, at least let the carriage take you to your destination and bring you back here. You need not ask for my permission. I am not your master,” he continued, his eyes never leaving hers. “I apologize once again for the way I behaved last night and I will make sure it will never happen again.”
When Orihime was finally sure that he won’t say anything else, she finally spoke up.
“How can I be assured of the future when I am not even sure about the reason for the past?” Orihime ground out, finding confidence in her voice which mildly startled her.
The question seemed to surprise the young man as well. He closed the book he was reading and looked at her with a troubled expression.
“You tell me to stay away, yet I do not even know what I am staying away from,” she added, reasoning out.
“Ignorance is bliss, princess,” Ichigo said through gritted teeth. “You should choose to hide in caution from things you are too naïve to know of. You will not understand even if I explained to you a million times. Just do as I say and you will remain safe.”
“Then my innocence is evil,” Orihime argued. “If my innocence would leave me blind to the truths, how can I be of help? How would I know that this… thing,” a pregnant pause, “is causing you to suffer?”
Ichigo’s eyes widened as he felt his heart tighten painfully in his chest.
This woman…
“Suffer?” he said, chuckling darkly. “I have never heard of anyone tell me something as amusing as that.”
Orihime felt offended, but said nothing, letting him continue.
“I do not need your pity, my wife,” he said coldly. “I am trying to protect you and I shall not accept your stubborn pleas. I have given you this reassurance that you shall not be touched again. Or do you want to?”
She felt as if cold water was being fed to her forcibly, chocking her senses and making her want to scream out. How could such a man be so cold and heartless?
“See? You were clearly disgusted and disgruntled by what had happened,” Ichigo said, standing up and turned around, facing the bookshelves, his back to the shaking girl. “I am letting you do as you please, as long as you stay away from me. Forgive me if this is not your fairy tale marriage, but as I remember, I have bought you and you have no right to refuse me right now. This is for your own good.”
Orihime stared hard at his groomed back and said, “Then what part of all of this is for your good?”
She left in a second, leaving Ichigo stunned and confused.
“Momo, I do not require your company for today,” Orihime said, as she got on the carriage.
The young woman’s hurt gaze was lowered quickly, bowing respectfully to her mistress. She did not say another word as she turned around and left. Orihime felt a surge of pity and guilt, but suppressed it almost immediately.
Orihime definitely had no option for today but to be left alone. She wanted to clear her mind up before even meeting with her aunt. Matsumoto Rangiku was a very perceptive woman. She would know if her niece was bothered by something and would not cease until she gets all the facts.
The auburn-haired beauty nestled herself on the coach’s comfortable chair and tried to make her mind wander, away from the events that occurred for the past 48 hours. Everything seemed to be a whirlwind of bright, neutral, and dim colors – colors unimaginable. Colors that could have happened in a lifetime but had happened within two days.
She could not make sense of it all.
Her gray eyes skimmed the scenery of the afternoon outside of the carriage’s window. The trudging of the galloping horses and the occasional bumps and throws did not trouble Orihime. She was used to the discomforts of life. However, she was still shocked by her spouse’s decision. She could not even reason out to his impenetrable mind. There was something about him that breathes an air of finality, and he was dead serious about what he had said.
What disappointed Orihime the most was that he wouldn’t tell her.
How can I help when he won’t tell me? What’s the use of being his wife if I could not lend a hand?
“Forgive me if this is not your fairy tale marriage, but as I remember, I have bought you and you have no right to refuse me right now.”
A sudden pain shot through her chest. She should remember those words everyday of her life – a life spent together with him, so that she would not think of crossing the line and even caring about him.
So I have to be obedient? She thought. Yes, I am bought. Yes, this is not my fairy tale wedding. Yes, this is all bad and planned out for me. But can’t I at least act as a wife in return?
Orihime knew that it was a wife’s duty to take care of his husband. It is not in her position to be too meddlesome in his affairs, but when it could directly concern her and her husband’s well-being, can’t a wife act?
The young man might not acknowledge it, but Orihime still cared, even a little. Concern for his safety. And question over that monster lurking in the shadows of his mind.
Not that she would see much of him to care.
But still…
“Orihime-sama,” a low and gravelly voice said from outside, “We have arrived.”
Orihime snapped out of her thoughts and waited for the coachman to open the door. She quickly stepped outside, desperate to remove herself from anything related to the Kurosakis.
“HIME! My dear!” a squeal came from the entrance of the Inoue mansion.
Orihime’s lips broke into a warm smile as a voluptuous blonde covered in a purple dress flew in front of her, crushing her in a suffocating embrace. Orihime’s head was instantly trapped in between two generous mounds.
“Mmph,” Orihime said, “Auntie…”
“Oh!” the woman squealed again. “Sorry!”
She put her niece in arm’s length and smiled at the auburn-haired beauty before her. Orihime returned the warm gesture and observed her aunt whom she missed for so long.
Matsumoto Rangiku – the darling of the Inoue clan. Someone who has never married yet even after years of endless proposals, her beauty is the stuff of many male fantasies.
She did not even look a day older right now. Orihime could only gape, when suddenly, she felt guilty about not telling her aunt about her whereabouts for the past years.
“Hime-chan,” Rangiku said, eyeing her seriously. “Don’t ever run away like that again.”
Orihime could feel tears threatening to spill down her eyes. “I won’t,” she answered. She knew that she had hurt her aunt by sudden departure.
“Let’s talk inside,” the older woman insisted.
“Okay.”
The two walked inside as the doors were opened for them by none other than Renji, who smiled and winked at Orihime. She returned the smile and followed her aunt to the seats in the reception area of the mansion.
Rangiku sat down gracefully from across Orihime and regarded her with a very warm expression that made Orihime feel guiltier. She could tell that her aunt had missed her a lot from that look alone.
“I’m sorry…” Orihime started to say when Rangiku’s left eyebrow rose.
“Sssh…” Rangiku interrupted. “Tell me about your new husband.”
She suddenly blanched. What would I tell her?!
“Ichigo huh?” Rangiku said, chuckling. “I have never imagined that prick take someone as a wife! What surprised me more was that he got to my Orihime!”
“Ah…” Orihime said, blushing slightly.
“I know, I know. I heard about it from Kisuke,” the strawberry blonde said, dismissing the whole thing with a wave of a hand. “I did not agree on the buying part, but at least that made you come back to us!”
“And I also think that you’re a match made in heaven,” she rambled on. “Ichigo definitely needs someone like you, Hime-chan!”
“Someone like me?” Orihime said, confused.
“Yes!” Rangiku exclaimed. “You’ll be the sun in that boy’s dark life.”
“Dark life?”
Something in her aunt’s expression changed, but was quickly hidden by a brilliant smile and a quick nod. “Well, you could see his gloom-and-doom expression pasted on always,” she said with a dismissive chuckle. “It’s time that man had a smile on his face. You could give him a good time in bed – ”
“AUNTIE!” Orihime squealed, her face brick red. Her aunt can be so knowing at these matters.
“But it’s true!” Rangiku said with a dramatic expression. “Without a woman to warm his bed, how can a man truly smile? That Ichigo… I won’t be surprised if I see him all sparkly. With a woman of your caliber, he’s so – ”
“Please, auntie,” Orihime pleaded weakly, too embarrassed to hear more. She couldn’t tell her aunt that they had almost done the deed, when her husband turned into a roguish devil and that his true self wasn’t even willing to take her. She couldn’t tell that a woman of her caliber wasn’t even desired by her own husband, much less look at her as an equal.
Orihime was hurt by this, but the pain wasn’t that much. Her pride was wounded, but that didn’t matter.
Her thoughts flew back to a certain green-eyed man whose eyes would burn down to her soul…
“Hime!” Rangiku said, waving her gloved hands in front of her niece’s range of vision.
Orihime jolted upright, surprised that she was daydreaming in the middle of a conversation with her aunt.
Rangiku smiled knowingly, “Were you recalling the events of the past night?” she inquired teasingly, wiggling her delicate brows.
“NO!” Orihime denied, reddening more. “And nothing happened, auntie!”
The woman sitting opposite her looked at her with an amused expression and nodded in belief. Orihime knew she found it amusing to be back on this kind of terms with her. She also missed the way her aunt would tease her relentlessly.
“I wonder, when will Ichigo man up and do something about this?” Rangiku said, her eyes in a dreamy look. “Really, Hime, I wish for you to be happy. Ichigo is a kind young man, only troubled.”
Why is he being showered with praises while I see nothing of these traits of his? Orihime thought, disappointed. The statements from Momo and her aunt made her want to see this ‘gentle’ side of Ichigo. Something she didn’t know years ago…
“What was he like?” she unconsciously murmured.
“Ichigo?” Rangiku said, catching what the younger Inoue said. “He was the most cheerful young boy then. Always laughing and smiling – as if nothing could ever bother him in the slightest. He would always cling to his mother and he loved the princess so very much, and the same went for the princess. That is, until Masaki-sama died.”
Orihime had heard of the princess’ death, but that was all she had heard. “How did she die?” she permitted herself to ask, wanting to know more about what led her husband to change so much from that epitome of joy and warmth in his younger days.
“From what I have heard, she fell deeply ill,” Rangiku answered, leaning back and twiddling with her glove, her voice far away. “But I doubted that at first. Princess Masaki was the picture of health. Suddenly falling seriously ill was out of one’s thoughts when you see her. But it happened. And she died.”
“Oh,” Orihime said, eyes downcast. Strange how one’s death can change the lives of the people around them. Stranger how one’s loss can wound someone inside so much that they can never be the same. Strangest how one can be irreparable when faced with the death of a loved one, especially if their deaths come in a surprise. She remembered her grave loss. She had died, three times.
“That is why I thought that you would be best for him,” Rangiku commented, eyeing Orihime with her soft aquamarine eyes. “I know you have experienced the same pain as him – a pain which is even repeated three times. However, you have braved them all, and look how a strong young woman you are now.”
“But I ran away from my problems,” Orihime said, feeling burdened once again.
“No, you did not,” Rangiku said, shaking her head. “Choosing to stay away and rid yourself of all bad memories – that is not weakness. Especially when you chose a harder life. Imagine a noblewoman living in the slums of Japan!”
“But if I were given the choice, I would not go back here,” Orihime objected. “So, I was running away. I did not want to remember. I know I’m weak, but – ”
“What’s wrong with that?” Rangiku said. “Acknowledging your fault and weakness is the core value in it. This proves that you’re strong enough. Now you’re back, and you made the choice. Being back to the star in which you were born and facing everything with conviction – that is the Hime I saw when she looked up at me this afternoon. I know when someone has changed.”
Orihime regarded her wise aunt with surprised eyes. In an instant, this woman had lifted her spirits and gave her hope.
“Ichigo has chosen the finest wife,” she told the younger woman with a wink. “He needs someone to put that chaotic mind of his in peace. But you require a lot of patience in doing this Orihime. Ichigo is a very hardened young man.”
Orihime nodded in understanding. She had received the blow of his stubbornness hours ago. She would just have to be patient to make it through.
“And who knows? You might need him too,” her aunt added, giving her another mysterious look.
Ulquiorra looked up at the bloody sky, his expression never changing. An ominous feeling crept over him as he read the letter in his hand once again.
He finally crumpled it and threw it outside the window of the moving carriage, letting it fall to the dusty ground.
He was on his way to the Kurosaki mansion to deliver something to Kurosaki Isshin. He was to give an object which his stepfather wanted to give to the governor of Japan. Of course, Ulquiorra had no choice but to obey his stepfather.
The ride finally lurched to a stop. Ulquiorra got out and in a swish of white coat tails, was already on top of the stairs when he saw a figure just entering as well, clad in a sun-colored dress.
A small squeak and a blush was what he saw next, as Inoue, or rather, Kurosaki Orihime realized his presence and stared at him with surprise.
The hue on her face and the adorable pout of her lips made Ulquiorra feel strange inside.
“Ah! Ulquiorra-sama!” she said, bowing quickly. “I did not know you were here.”
Her eyes twitched in discomfort. Ulquiorra gave her a strange look.
“I am looking for Isshin-sama,” he said in his usual monotone. “Do you know where he is?”
“Ah yes!” Orihime replied, feeling a storm of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “I was just going to the same direction, since my quarters are near Isshin-san’s study.”
Ulquiorra gave her a stiff nod. Orihime felt uncertain if she should start moving, but did so anyway.
They walked side by side and each one of them felt as if this was the longest walk of their entire lives.
“I trust you find your new home good?” Ulquiorra said out of nowhere, killing the silence. Gray eyes regarded him in surprise and Ulquiorra nearly scowled. People reacted like this whenever he would start talking, as if the act was the strangest thing he would ever do.
To his surprise, the small woman beside him started giggling. Giggle turned to laughter, as she blushed gaily, shooting him amused looks.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, giving her a serious look.
“A-ah,” she said, breathing hard. “The question you asked. I did not expect that it would be the sort of thing anyone would ask me.”
“Woman,” he said in a chilling tone, which cut off the bubbly young woman. “Anyone would ask that to a newly wed bride. What should I ask then?”
“Hmm,” she contemplated, an act which surprised the stoic man. Usually when he gave off that cold aura of his, everyone would shut their mouths. But this young woman wasn’t. “I think you should ask ‘did you find your wedding cake delicious?’ or ‘did you see the little blue men in your new home?'”
Ulquiorra looked at her with a perplexed expression. This woman is spouting nonsense. What sort of person would ask about little blue men and wedding cakes?
A grin slashed her beautiful face as she stared far away, “Or if the woman obtained her fairy tale wedding.”
“Did you?” he asked instantly.
The question startled Orihime. She stopped abruptly and looked at the man before her in a strange way.
Ulquiorra looked at her.
That look again.
Such a beautiful face filled with sadness.
Auburn hair, a halo of light.
Gray eyes, a storm in the night.
This woman…
It was the same look she would give him at the wedding. A look filled with pain and longing…
Why are you always giving me that look?
“Why do you look at me like that?” he asked, approaching her.
“N-nothing,” Orihime said, alarmed. “I was just… dazing off.”
“I asked you a question, woman,” he said, stopping a few inches from her shaking self.
“I was not married to the man I’m in love with,” she said, her gray eyes searching the floor. “So I did not obtain my fairy tale wedding.”
“Is that so?” he said, his voice low. Surprising himself and the woman before him, his hand shot out and grabbed her chin, making stormy eyes clash with hard emerald ones.
“Such a shame to see a very beautifully bright star such as yourself dim in the darkness of the night,” he said, lowering his face to hers, until his lips were only inches away.
Orihime blushed, feeling his cold and sweet breath intoxicate her senses. Surprise flooded her body as his lips touched hers – feather-like at first, so soft that she could scarcely feel it.
“Ulqui – ” she muttered, but was stopped when the caress turned into a hard kiss, taunting her lips.
His tongue was as cool as his breath, as it licked her lower lip to ask permission for entrance. She relented, feeling weak in the knees as she clung to his vest, inhaling the smell of him. His tongue quickly dived inside of her mouth, suckling at its sweetness – an act which made her sigh and groan in delight.
The man she loves was kissing her.
Ulquiorra had never felt this way while kissing a woman. His senses were on fire, and something inside of him – a vast emptiness, was quickly being filled up. He could feel the skin at the back of her neck quiver at his touch. Her warm mouth was pleasant and heavenly. Her lips were soft and wondrous.
Why am I doing this?
He pulled away instantly as thoughts of his best friend entered his befuddled mind. Even if they were not married out of love, he could not betray Ichigo.
Gray eyes fluttered open and regarded him again with a longing expression.
But this woman…
This woman would be my undoing.
He could have laughed at himself at the irony of the statement – the same sentence Isshin used for Ichigo when they first met Orihime.
Indeed, there was something about her that would send a man in conflict.
“Good evening,” a voice said from behind them.
It was Ichigo.
Okay.. done.. 😀
I have more surprises in store for you folks, so please be patient. ^^ Thank you! 😀
R&R! 😀
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Okay guys, so this would be a long author’s note to clarify some stuff ^^, ..
To all those who asked if this is not an IchiHime fic, it IS an IchiHime fic. Remember that in my directX07 account, I only write ICHIHIME fics for Bleach and no other pairing. IchiHime is my OTP, I won’t change it. I won’t make a mistake such as accidentally putting a fan fic in the wrong category. I think I’ve been a writer for three years now. It’s impossible for me to make that mistake. 😀 This is part of that thing we call plot. 😀
I think this would be my greatest work ever because I will dare to make what I haven’t seen in other fics before – to make a fan fic so focused and so centered on the present love lives of the characters that you won’t be entirely sure when it will be IchiHime, but it will be. 😀 Please just wait patiently.
Fostersb – your review about why Ulquiorra is suddenly going after Orihime… I have a very good answer for that. But it will come in the later chapters, please wait. ^^
And I’m very surprised that so many of you noticed that Ichigo is in love with another woman! ^^ I only barely mentioned it so that I could test who really internalizes my works. Like, I used two lines for it… XD Please wait patiently for it! ^^
Lunar – thanks for that funny review! ^^ Ichigo would slam me to a wall if he knew what I’m doing to Hime..! 😀
x3Sn0w – the change in writing style is brought up by the change of the genres I’m reading and loving right now. I don’t want sappy romance and accidentally in love stories anymore. I want my fic to be involved with something real – a life where temptations and falsely-interpreted romance arises. Where things are not always what they seem…
Blitch – the kiss cheating… LOL! I loved writing that part… Please wait for MORE of that. *heehee
I’m sure that more than 50% of your guesses would be incorrect in many aspects of this story, and that’s what I like about writing this. But I would love to see your predictions and hear from you. Shower me with love..
Thank you for the reviews! ^^
I hope I reach a thousand! ^^ before I write the tenth.. XD :p (wishing for too much)
Chapter 7
Indomitable Force
“Good evening,” Ichigo said, looking at the pair who was standing in the middle of the deserted hallway.
The auburn-haired woman gasped and looked at him with wide, gray eyes – eyes which bespoke fear and surprise. The ebony-haired man looked as passive as ever, his eyes closed and hid look withdrawn.
Ichigo approached the two and turned to Ulquiorra.
“Father’s in the library. You won’t find him in the study at this hour,” Ichigo said, his voice in dead calm.
“Thank you,” Ulquiorra said, his voice in monotone, colder than the orange-haired man’s. “I shall be taking my leave now. It was a pleasure talking to you, Lady Kurosaki.”
With that he bowed, leaving the two in still silence.
Orihime bowed her head and clasped her hands together against her chest. Her heart was still pounding at the kiss she shared with Ulquiorra, but right now it was mixed with fear.
She had forgotten that she was married.
Married? I thought he had already made it clear that this relationship is strictly business? Her other side fumed.
But still…
“You,” he said, laying his inscrutable brown eyes on hers.
“I – I’m sorry,” Orihime mumbled, not daring to look at his face.
“I said I will give you complete freedom in exchange of not seeing me,” Ichigo said as Orihime eyes shot upwards finally to meet with his. “I shall stand by my promise.”
“W-what do you mean?”
“I do not care if you have as many affairs as you want,” he clarified, turning around. “As long as you do it in places no one can see.”
Orihime stood stock still. This man was giving her complete reign of her life, just to avoid further contact with him.
Does he loathe my presence that much?
She mentally shook her head. This was not a fairy tale love scene. This was the truth. She had to stay away from him. Away from the dangers he might represent and sticking to the agreement which had them in this situation in the first place.
“I do not care if you have my own best friend,” he added, walking away, “but if you are to do it, do it in the dark. I do not wish to be disgraced. If you are going to betray me, do it in silence, for I will not allow anyone to soil my family’s name. It would do us great dishonor if people find out that my very own wife is cheating on her husband.”
Silence.
Pain.
Orihime felt tears slide down her cheeks. She never expected this – the truth slapped right to her face. It was like he was toying with her – letting her think she was free, yet caging her mentally.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, trembling from head to toe.
Ichigo faced her, bored eyes lying upon her tear-stricken face.
“I bought you, remember?” he said. “I thought I reminded you of that. But as I told you, you are free to do anything you please, just stay away from me and deal with you personal affairs in private. Protecting my dignity and yours, if you think about it deeply.”
Orihime said nothing and simply stared at the retreating figure dressed in immaculate black. Graceful and purposeful steps led her away from her sight as she felt her knees buckle under her own weight.
A kiss.
A brief touch.
My beginning.
My end.
She touched her lips, reminiscing in the feeling of Ulquiorra’s cold lips on hers. Strangely, the cold was welcomed. It was sweet and endearing. There was somewhat a show of curiosity in his actions, which deviate from the usually stoic façade he would show.
Thoughts of the exchange quickly blotted out most of her worries, but a lingering sadness remained.
This is the sacrifice Inoue Orihime had taken.
She had sacrificed her precious and peaceful life…
In exchange for going back to privilege…
In exchange for going back to that unwanted title…
In exchange for jewels and clothes…
In exchange of her friend’s protection…
In exchange for other people’s safety…
She had sacrificed a life of love, hope and beauty.
If she were not sold, she could have freely loved.
If she were not sold, she could have freely chose.
This was true regret.
What hurt her most that the time she would be married would be the time she would fall in love. Ulquiorra Schiffer – that silent man whom she did not know so well.
She need not know anything more; she just knew for sure that he was the one.
And yet here she was, in a shaking stupor, under confusion and desolation. She was married to a man she barely knew. A man who would barely let anyone pass the wall he had created around himself. A man who had many secrets to hide. A man who had an alternate identity so frightening that it might harm her any second.
Are you scared?
Orihime blinked a few times before a realization dawned upon her.
I won’t give up.
“I thought I already made it clear.”
“You have.”
“I told you to stay away from him.”
“It was an accident.”
Lies. She tried to reason out. But it won’t do much this time. She had brought this upon herself.
“What are you doing here, then?”
“I feel responsible for my actions.”
“Oh?”
“I am here to apologize.”
“Apologize? Do you think that’s enough?”
Silence. A sound of a door’s lock clicking.
Silence. A sound of a low chuckle and unsteady breathing.
“What do I have to do? You won’t allow me to apologize hours ago.”
“He told you to avoid him. Why didn’t you follow?”
Three seconds passed.
“No answer?”
“I am his wife.”
More silence. A sound of a suppressed gasp.
“Not enough.”
She gasped as she was slammed against the cold wall. His harsh breath was upon her face, heat blasting on her cheeks and hair.
Eyes of the darkest bowels of the night and the fiercest amber pierced down on her face, his face in a scowl.
He touched her lips with shaking fingers.
“Do you know how much it tormented me to see these lips touch another man’s?”
She blanched, her heart thumping fast. She should have expected this. But she had never expected to find him like this – already like this.
He lowered his head and opened his mouth, releasing his tongue from its cavern, lazily letting it sweep over her lips.
“I feel as though I can still taste him.”
“Don’t do this…”
A finely arched eyebrow rose.
“I thought you were here to apologize.”
“Yes I was. And I already have. So let me out.”
“Not enough. Not enough NOT ENOUGH!”
The bellow shook her senses. It rang through her mind and cut through her soul, leaving her shaken. It’s coming.
He slammed her against the wall for the second time, holding her shoulders so tightly that she felt as though they were about to break.
“I will slit his throat. Better yet, I shall slowly detach his head from his body…”
“No, please.”
“Why are you protecting him?”
“I – ”
“You belong to me,” he breathed against her face. “If I ever see another man touching you, I’ll kill him in front of you. I’ll kill for you. Devour for you.”
For you.
Her blood ran cold as his insanity crept inside of her. Green eyes staring up at her, the sparks of life in them gone. Vivid images of his body being mangled by a sword, held by a demon with eyes of the midnight sky.
“No…”
“Then tell me you’re mine. Even if he tells you to stay away, you are not to stay away. You are to remain as my faithful little – ”
“Toy?” she asked, lowering her head so that her eyes were hidden by her hair. “You own me? You bought me? I know that already. Stop repeating it.”
Stunned silence.
Then a chuckle.
“You are more amazing than her,” he grumbled, lifting her chin.
She shivered as their gazes collided. She tried to break the contact, but his hold tightened.
His free hand wandered to her hair.
“More luxurious hair.”
Then to the side of her eyes.
“More luminous and innocent eyes.”
Then to her lips.
“Redder and more alluring lips.”
Then to her cheek.
“Smoother skin.”
Down, down his hand went…
To her chest.
He gripped her left breast hard, eliciting a loud gasp from her.
“Much more bountiful… assets.”
“Stop this!”
Her scream made him chuckle more.
“And you dare to do the gentlest things to a monster. How is that? How is it that you dare to look at me with those eyes of yours that speak sympathy?”
Inhale. She inhaled hard.
“I sympathize with your lack of… companionship and restraint.”
His hand stopped caressing her chin and breast.
He turned his back to hers, which surprised her.
“Your apology… you can pay for it with your body,” he silently said.
Why the sudden lack of ruthlessness?
“You wouldn’t do that,” she said, raising her head in an effort to calm herself.
“What did you say?”
“You wouldn’t do that. Because you won’t get any merit for sleeping with me,” she replied, hugging herself tightly with her own arms, trying to seek comfort with her own body and her own words.
Boisterous laughter ensued, making her jump up in surprise.
He turned around and captured her lips in his.
She struggled, trying to put some distance between them. But her efforts were futile.
She recalled cold and gentle lips. Now, she was experiencing a hot and bruising kiss.
“Merit for sleeping with you?” he said, breaking the kiss for only the tiniest amount of distance. “Are you jesting, my dear? I would very much want to fuck you right now.”
Gray eyes widened. She prayed that by some miracle, she would be saved. Saved by that cold man she did not like – hoping that he would resurface and try to end his own sanity.
“He won’t come, you know.”
“What?” she mumbled, alarmed.
“I have made sure that I am angry enough so that he won’t come barging in. Do you know how furious I am right now?” he asked, pressing her up against the wall, effectively letting her feet dangle in midair as he clutched her shoulders tightly.
“I want to cut you up for the whoring you have done,” he whispered into her ear. “But I want to cut you up inside. Tear up those virginal folds and make you mine. Mine, mine, mine.”
A single tear slipped from her eye.
“Your apology shall be your body.”
She gasped, her eyes wide as he bent over to her. The wind was howling outside, and a streak of lightning lit up the dark confines of the room. He exuded a very dark charisma around him which he lacked when he was sane. His thick orange hair shined against the brief show of light. Despite her mounting terror, she could not help but notice that he was devastatingly good looking.
Her chest was growing more painful, and her insides were coiling up. Her center was growing more heated, as her traitorous body responded to the first person who corrupted it.
He caressed her neck and she shivered.
“See? Your body recognizes its one true master.”
A sinister smirk graced his features as he tore her dress up, leaving nothing on. The sound of the tearing cloth matched with the increasing tempo of the rain and the occasional bursts of thunder.
Cold swept over her as her naked body lay exposed before his lustful eyes.
“Are you scared?” he asked, eyes searching her flushed face.
She did not answer and tried covering her body, but she was stopped when he suddenly moved her hands out of the way and pressed her body against his.
“You should fear for him,” he said slowly. “Take pleasure in what I shall do to you.”
He suddenly kneeled, roughly pulling her legs apart. His nose touched her womanhood as he firmly gripped her hands to stop her from running away.
“Such a sweet scent, princess,” he growled. “And you’re already glistening wet for me.”
“No!” her scream came.
“You.” Lick.
“Are.” Lick.
“Mine.” Lick.
She felt her knees buckle as his hot tongue swept over her already swelling clit, pushing harder against her sleek hole. Up and down the line he went, trying to tease her. The strong movements led her to jerking her body against his roughly swirling tongue, trying to gain closer contact.
“You like it,” he said, chuckling.
She shook her head in embarrassment. “No…”
He let go of her hand and suddenly pushed a very long finger inside of her. She let out a silent scream, fighting to stay standing up. She leaned against the wall and panted, trying to gather herself, but his long finger was moving inside of her.
“It hurts,” she said, wincing.
“Try to relax, princess,” he cooed. “Once you get wetter, it’ll be more fun.”
Squish. Squish. Squish.
She could hear the disgusting squelches coming from her throbbing and moistening sex. His finger entered her in a fast pace, while lapping up the juices that went out of it, trying to take in as much as he could.
“Look. At. Me.” He punctuated each word with the thrusts of his hand, making her gasp loudly. She forced herself to look down to those shadowy eyes.
She shuddered.
They were alive and evil. They looked at her with a cruel expression as he tongued and toyed with her.
She closed her eyes and turned her head away shamefully, her body moving in its own accord. She could not stop herself. She could only react sinfully to what he was doing to her.
Please, appear. Please, get out of your shell and save me.
I can’t get away from this.
“Damn,” he breathed, licking more and more, now using his mouth fully to kiss the tender lips of her nether region. “I can’t take it anymore.”
He stood up and tore off his clothes, leaving him with nothing on. Her eyes went wide again as she sensed what he was about to do.
He grabbed hold of her thighs and lifted them up effortlessly.
So strong.
He put his hands around her waist to align her dripping entrance directly across his throbbing member.
“No… please,” she whispered, tears and sobs choking her.
“You are mine,” he rasped.
Plunge.
A scream.
A scream tearing the night sky as the rain pounded outside.
With every thunder, he took the plunge, matching the ominous rhythm.
She gritted her teeth as she felt her insides being torn up by his manhood. He was hard and pulsating inside of her. She could feel and smell blood falling.
“Blood,” he whispered, as if reading her thoughts. “You smell… so good.”
He pushed her back against the wall and started grinding himself into her, kneading her breasts in the process.
“So fucking hot.” Ragged breaths accompanied the rain.
The sounds of their sexes meeting up. The feel of his entire length burying within her to the hilt. At first it was painful, but she felt herself going crazy in need of the delicious and delirious pleasure he was giving her.
“You like it?” he said, every word stressed by a thrust inside of her, making her scream out his name.
“Ahh…” all she could say.
“How does it feel to be fucked so hard?” he asked, grabbing her hips and grinding into her even more.
“Tell me you want me, even if it is a lie,” he added, leaning over and capturing one nipple in his mouth.
She could not take it anymore. With a scream, she came, convulsing in his arms as she slumped forward to his chest.
But he was still hard inside her.
He lifted her up and brought her to a nearby table, laying her exhausted self there.
“No more,” she said, pleading.
“I’m not satisfied. Not yet,” he said, starting to thrust in and out of her once again.
He stared down at her flushed face, her lips open as she panted and let out small screams. He watched as she dragged her nails down the finely-carved wood. He looked on as she thrashed her head and her gray eyes turned darker in passion.
How could I be obsessed with this woman?
Sweat trickled down from her damp hair to face. Sweat glistened on her bountiful chest, accentuating those pert, pink nipples. Her ivory skin was glowing, and he was the cause of it all.
His smirk grew wider as he pumped more into her.
He watched her red sex, swollen and aching for him, as her fluids ran on her hard cock. The smell of her and him made him grow crazy with want.
“Tell me you want me, even if it is a lie,” he said again.
She gave him a dazed look but said nothing. She did not want to lie to herself, yet she did not want to say things which she might later regret.
How much loneliness did this man endure for him to grow insane? She thought, amidst her own insanity.
She had to show him, somewhat, that she cared, even though they did not love each other. Even though this was all just for lust. Even though she was just his toy.
He continued driving into her with a force that is not that of a human. He could not stop, and she wondered if he would ever do so, since he only became harder and harder within her. Her insides were combusting in the rapid and slick friction between the unison of their bodies.
He grunted as he came inside of her.
Hot liquid poured out of him as she felt tears coming down from her eyes.
He pulled out and smirked – a smirk which made her shiver in fear and uncertainty. He took hold of her legs and pried them apart, watching her from below in a leisurely fashion.
“You are weeping for me, princess,” he said, giving her swollen and bloodied womanhood a long, slow lick.
“Tastes even better,” he muttered, finishing up his job by licking her clean.
She felt her already battered nether region beginning to heat up again. She shook her head shamefully at this reaction, but she had to do it. She had to make her point. She had to awaken him.
She saw his eyes grow wide as she sat up suddenly.
“What are you doing?” he said.
She said nothing and leaned down, her face in a considerable distance from his. She cupped his face with her hands and said,
“Come back, Ichigo.”
“Come back, Ichigo.”
Who is that?
Who is that voice?
I’ve heard of it before.
But where… who?
“Come back, Ichigo.”
Again…
I must come back.
For some reason, I have to wake up.
Fight. Fight.
To protect that voice.
Hours before…
“What are you still doing here, Hime-chan?” a voice came from behind her.
Orihime jumped up slightly and was soothed when she saw Kurosaki Isshin walk towards her. A smile was on his face and this eased Orihime a bit. His eyes were like that of a man surveying his favorite daughter.
“I was admiring the night sky,” she lied, staring up at the dark sky.
“Admiring the storm clouds,” he said. Obviously the lie did not work on him.
She said nothing to defend herself and merely stared up at the violent clouds, oblivious to the threat of rain, lightning and thunder it may present.
“The clouds warn us of something violent coming our way,” she whispered.
Isshin nodded beside her and gave her a serious look. “I know you are not happy here with us,” he said.
She stared at him in surprise. She waved her hands frantically. “No, no!” she said, laughing. “That’s not it at all!”
“You’re not very good in lying, my dear.”
Orihime’s laughter faltered as she stared guiltily at the carpeted floor.
“I know my son isn’t the best husband, but please, try your best to understand him,” Isshin said.
“How can I do that?” she said, downcast. She did not know what to do, especially right now that she had betrayed her husband and herself. I don’t know what I’ll do…
“You remind me of Masaki,” Isshin said out of nowhere.
“The princess?” she asked.
“Yes,” the older man replied. “I know you have the same traits. I feel it. And I think that Urahara did a fine job. I know you can help change Ichigo.”
Eyes from the bowels of hell widened. Amber irises lit up.
A death grip stopped her as his right hand grabbed her wrist. The circulation was cut off, as she could feel her fingers numbing. But she ignored the pain.
“Ichigo?” he said through gritted teeth. “Why do you ask for that bastard? He doesn’t even want you.”
“I know,” she firmly stated, meeting his eyes – this time with more courage.
“But I have to try.”
His eyes widened more.
He grabbed her head and kissed her forcefully. His tongue ravaged the inside of her mouth, making her gasp in pain and pleasure.
“Taste yourself through me,” he rasped. “This is how I want you.”
“Kurosaki-sama,” she said, through their kisses.
“Damn you!” he yelled, slamming her into the wood.
She gasped as she felt her back starting to bruise from the constant slams he did.
“S-stop it,” she said with a wince. “You are not like this.”
“How the fuck do you know how I’m really like?!” he said with a laugh. “I’m a demon, princess. There’s nothing more to know.”
“I know who you are,” she contradicted. “But Kurosaki-sama…”
“Enough!”
Another bruising kiss.
“Stop it,” he said, earning her surprise.
He’s beginning to appear.
“Stay sleeping, King. I’m not finished with her,” the demon’s voice came.
The normal voice took over, “Shut up. Get out.”
“No! I said no!”
“GET OUT!”
He suddenly fell over and went down to the floor, convulsing and shaking. She got up and kneeled beside him, grabbing hold of his shoulders, trying to still his movements.
With all the strength she could muster, she lifted him into her arms and embraced him as tightly as she could, as if absorbing some of his pain.
He continued shaking until it completely ceased.
Ichigo opened his eyes to feel a soft body against his, slender arms tightly around his torso. A hand reached up to the back of his neck, softly caressing and comforting.
Like my mother’s touch…
Auburn hair reflected itself in the thunder, and he knew who she was. He had gone to sleep for far too long.
He inhaled sharply and smelled blood.
His eyes widened as he realized what he did to her.
“Let go of me,” he said.
“No,” she replied.
“Why are you doing this?” he said in a pained voice.
She said the most unexpected thing, “Because I am your wife.”
“I told you to stay away, look at what happened now.”
“I brought this upon myself. This is my punishment,” she murmured. “But at least allow me to act as a wife.”
“I thought you love Ulquiorra, why did you give your body to me?”
She let go of him suddenly, and he felt himself missing her presence.
She stared at him with gray eyes filled with resolve. “I do love him,” she said. “But I am married to you, thus I will do my duties, and stop living in a lie.”
“You – ” he started, but was stopped by her gaze.
“So please, stop hiding things from me.”
Okay, so that’s the end of this chapter. Hope you liked it. ^^
This chapter is short because it’s just about the aftermath of what happened to Ulquiorra and Orihime. We might wonder how his other side would react to this! ^^
He/She refers to Hichigo and Orihime.. XD
Leave a review! It would be much appreciated! 😀
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
8th chapter… 😀
You will see very interesting things here. 😀
Thank you all for the reviews for the past chapter. ^^
Chapter 8
Duty and Desire
“I love you,” he said, blushing and looking away.
Surprised, she did not know how to react to this, so she put it in a way where it wouldn’t be awkward for both of them.
She chuckled but quickly squeaked when he pulled her into a tight embrace.
“Say it,” he said. “Say that you love me, even if it is a lie.”
She could smell him. She could feel all of him. Her senses were soon overwhelmed as the light chill of the autumn breeze swept over her body. But she didn’t mind. She was in his arms after all. And that’s all that matters.
All that matters.
“Please…” he said. “I need you by my side.”
She could only stare…
He stared back…
Stare… stare… stare…
Eyes of the deepest purple… intoxicating, devouring. Looking… searching…
She buried her face in his chest.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“We can’t be together.”
“But – ” he said, but was stopped when she pulled away and turned her back to him.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you to say that,” she finally said, and left.
Forever gone…
But not quite gone.
Three days… it’s been three days since that incident…
“Ichigo,” Isshin said, scratching his chin. “Your grandfather wrote a letter.”
Ichigo looked at his father in surprise. He quickly suppressed the feeling of anxiety and sat straight in his chair. Curiosity spilled over him as he looked at the white envelope bearing the Royal Seal in his father’s hand.
“What did it say?” he asked.
“It says that trusted people and representatives of England are going to come here tomorrow, to check on the authenticity of the marriage and of your wife’s lineage,” his father replied.
“Representatives?” Ichigo said, stunned. “There are people here in Japan like that?”
“Idiot son,” Isshin said, chuckling and shaking his head. “Of course! Or else who would be the spies of England? Who would watch over my filthy, commoner rule?”
Ichigo smirked at his father’s self-degrading statement, “I see that. They won’t let their sight off Japan when they know someone like you is in charge here.”
Isshin suddenly wailed, causing Ichigo to jump. He lunged at his son, a waterfall of tears streaming down his face.
Before he could grab Ichigo, the young man already smacked him with a fist hard, sending him to a crumpled heap.
“You… learned well, my… son,” Isshin said, groaning in pain.
“Isshin-san!” a worried voice came from the doorway.
It was Orihime.
Ichigo’s blood froze as he looked at her face. He still could not get over the guilt he had been feeling since what had happened between them.
Right at this very room.
Isn’t she a tasty parcel, King?
Ichigo’s face instantly froze. Orihime noticed dark lines creep at the side of his eyes. She quickly realized what was happening and tried to ease the tension.
“Ah, sorry,” she said. “I thought something was going on. I’ll be taking my leave.”
She bowed and left quickly, leaving Ichigo in a near frenzied state and Isshin in curious thought.
“Anything happened between you two?” Isshin asked, the question forcing Ichigo to a normal state.
“Nothing,” Ichigo replied, easing his deep breaths.
“If there is something going on between you two, fix it quickly,” Isshin said, toying with the envelope in hand. “Be sure that you’re not hurting beautiful and kind women like her, Ichigo. She is a rare person to meet.”
Rare indeed.
“And you have to settle things with her quickly,” Isshin added. “Or else you won’t make a very good impression on our visitors tomorrow.”
“Would it be a private meeting?” Ichigo asked.
Isshin chuckled as his son reddened furiously. “No,” he answered. “Silly thing, if it were a private meeting, the tension would be more apparent now, would it?”
Ichigo frowned slightly. The old man had a point. If the affair was made to be private, any discomfort and mistake would be noticeable. But if it were a party, Ichigo could do well as long as he pleased the agents and be formal with the guests.
And show them that he got along well with his wife.
How could that be possible? He thought wildly. After all I did…
Then let me take over, King. And we’ll show everybody how well you and your wife get along.
Shut up!
“Anything wrong?” Isshin asked, searching his son’s disturbed face.
“Ah… nothing,” Ichigo said, looking away. “I think I need to get going now.”
“Alright,” Isshin said.
As Ichigo was about to leave, he heard his father said, “Go talk to her and straighten things up.”
He said nothing and walked out.
His eyes.
Orihime knew that he was under the verge of transformation again.
Whenever he sees me, he acts that way. A look – is it all that it takes for him to transform?
She always knew why she had to avoid him, but was it this bad? She never knew what to expect if ever she would come face to face with him in the mansion.
Should I hide? Should I just lower my head? Should I run away?
She needed to help him. But knowing so little about him, she wouldn’t know his habits – where he would go at certain times of the day.
Added to the fact that she could still remember the events of three nights ago, she could not forget. Especially whenever she catches a glimpse of him.
He did not talk to her after that. He might have stayed awake when she fell asleep. When she woke up, she found herself in her room, dressed in sleeping attire, with a blanket nestled on top of her. She was sure that he must have been the one who carried her there.
She had seen the gentler side of him when he remained still in her arms. She wanted to see more of that from him, but it was impossible. Not now when there are so many things between them.
And now that she can’t even go near him without triggering something bad – or inflicting pain upon herself.
“Mistress,” a voice said from behind her.
Orihime stopped walking. She turned around and saw Momo bowing.
“I have a message from Ichigo-sama,” she said.
Surprise crept over her. “What did he say?”
“He wishes to inform you that there would be a party tomorrow,” Momo replied.
“Party?” Orihime asked, confused.
“Yes,” Momo responded. “Representatives from the King of England are coming tomorrow to see Ichigo-sama and his wife. So Ichigo-sama asked me to inform you of the preparations that are about to take place.”
“So does this mean we have to present ourselves as a couple?” Orihime asked, growing nervous.
“Yes, Orihime-sama.”
Orihime blanched. How was this going to happen when Kurosaki-sama couldn’t control himself?!
“Has the prince already agreed with this?” she asked the young girl.
“Yes, my lady,” Momo replied.
Does this mean he had already prepared himself mentally?
Orihime wondered how long they would be able to keep up with the charade. And she was sure that Ulquiorra was going to be invited to the party. She was absolutely sure of that.
“Ichigo-sama asked me to help you in any way I can,” Momo added, bowing once more.
Orihime gave the eager young woman a soft smile. “Thank you so much, Momo-chan,” she said gently, smoothing the top of Momo’s head.
The young girl blushed and looked at Orihime with wide eyes.
“I’m sure you’ll do a fine job,” she said.
“Thank you, Orihime-sama,” the girl said.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Momo smiled and bowed, rushing towards her chores. Orihime smiled after the girl, wishing she could have her life. With simpler things to do… and simpler things to think about.
“Do you think Orihime’s okay?” Tatsuki asked Renji, who was lounging back in a chair, yawning widely.
“I’m sure she is,” he replied. “You know how our Hime is.”
“I know, but,” Tatsuki said, scratching her cheek. She always had this habit whenever she was worried.
“Stop worrying, okaa-san,” Renji said, rolling his eyes. He was stopped abruptly as he was thrown off his chair, the back of his head hitting the base of the wooden table.
“What the fuck did you do that for?!” he yelled, standing up to throw a punch at Tatsuki. The smaller woman dodged and glared at the red-haired man, fuming.
“You need to get out of here and find some use for yourself,” Tatsuki spat.
Renji looked thoughtful for a moment, and Tatsuki nearly sighed in relief that the idiot might be realizing something.
“Yep,” he said, turning around. “I need to get laid.”
Renji didn’t know what happened next. All he heard was a curse, then everything went black.
“Gin…” Matsumoto Rangiku whispered in her sleep.
This was one of those days.
It was daytime yet the strawberry blonde noblewoman was sleeping. It was typical of Rangiku, for she was the Lady of the Moon – as her friends fondly call her. She would be awake most of the night, hosting parties and events. Being a social butterfly was her forte, yet there was something about her… something about her that even when she socializes that much, no one really knew everything or even a lot about her.
“GIN!” she yelled, her eyes flying awake. Wide, aquamarine eyes surveying her surroundings as she shook and clutched the sheets to her bountiful chest.
When she was alone and herself, it had always been about him…
About Gin…
She dreamt of him every moment she would close her eyes.
He still was within her.
“Mistress,” a voice called out from the other side of the door. “May I come in?”
Rangiku’s eyes gentled as she looked at the door.
“Come in,” she said.
A tall man with jet black hair in spikes came in, holding a tray with food in it. He looked at her with concerned eyes as he began preparing for his mistress’ breakfast.
“Are you alright, Mistress?” he asked, in that deep voice of his.
“Yes, you silly man,” Rangiku said, laughing. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”
She looked at her butler with amused eyes. He was always serious and dutiful, yet he also had a sense of humor which she liked. Even for a Japanese man who was taken in by a English noblewoman, he was the top of his line of work. He had learned the English language quickly, which proved to Rangiku that he was no ordinary man, yet she did not pry deeper into his past.
“You screamed, Mistress,” he said, looking at her with those eyes of his.
Eyes that held genuine concern and warmth. Eyes that held something else…
Normally, she would see this expression on her cute niece’s face. But never with someone else. Never with a man.
Because men are idiots who only think about themselves.
He looked at his mistress, her blue, blue eyes widening for a fraction of a centimeter, yet he noticed.
He notices when her expression changes. Every time her expression changes.
When her smile goes from frank, to cold, to gentle…
When her eyes go from playful, to observant, to thoughtful, to loving…
When she would go from happy, to lively, to drunk, to lonely, to depressed…
He would always notice every thing about her and try to know as much as he can.
To protect that broken woman…
To protect that smile…
To protect Matsumoto Rangiku as she is…
“Shuuhei,” she said, leaning forward.
Ulquiorra’s green eyes scanned the parchment that he was holding, his expression growing colder by the second.
He restrained himself from crumpling and throwing the paper in a frustrated fit. He just laid the repulsive thing down and stood up, walking towards the window.
This was another moment in his life which he contemplated other things aside from what he had to do.
Memories of that day long forgotten flooded into his mind, making him grow even colder.
“I hate him,” she said, staring at the dimming light of the last piece of candlestick they had.
“I hate him,” she repeated, watching the light grow darker as the wick grew shorter and as the wax melted into nothingness.
“I hate him,” she uttered once again, the fire extinguishing completely.
He stared at the fallen woman before him – once the beautiful butterfly of these streets, coveted and worshipped by men. She was the most beautiful – she was royalty. The daughter of a duke and a geisha…
She was royalty in both worlds.
Was.
But when she had him, her world was destroyed.
Her voice turned hoarse from drinking.
Her skin turned sickly pale from smoking.
Her hair was matted and dried, no longer silky.
Her clothes were disheveled and her face no longer wore those intricate make-ups.
She had fallen.
Because of her own mistake…
She had him…
Her son…
And when she had him, she blamed him for every day of his life that they suffered.
“I hate you,” she said, walking towards the boy with deep green eyes, eyes that stared back at her apathetically.
“I hate you,” she repeated. SLAP! The boy didn’t scream. He did not say a word. He just stared at the crazy woman before him.
“I HATE YOU!” she screeched again.
Ulquiorra’s knuckles tightened.
That whore…
Gray eyes intruded his thoughts. Gray eyes that were out of this world. Gray eyes that bespoke kindness and innocence, as if they were the only pure things in this vile and cruel world.
“Inoue Orihime,” he muttered unconsciously, remembering the way her warm lips felt like under his cold ones. The way they moved against his… the way they tasted.
Like the sun danced behind his lips.
Like flowers that bloomed in the rain.
Is it wrong to desire the undesirable? Is it wrong to want what has already been taken?
But that flower is being grown in sand dunes. No one nourished her. No one treasured her. No one wanted her in her current situation.
He didn’t deserve her and he should not want her. Yet he did.
How could this emotion be so fleeting? It was like only a few weeks ago that they had met, yet he was feeling so many things of this and that for her. He was thinking of her too much, when he should not.
Desire or duty…
What is the difference?
Desire is fulfilling your demands.
Duty is fulfilling other’s demands.
He shook his head and stared at the sky.
I don’t want her, then.
“You look so beautiful, Orihime-sama,” Momo gushed as she looked at her mistress, wiping the sides of her eyes in joy.
Orihime smiled at the girl. She stood up and embraced her, a deed which shocked Momo.
“Mistress!” she squeaked. “You shouldn’t do that!”
“I want to,” Orihime whispered. “Thanks for all your hard work.”
Momo blushed and looked at the taller woman worshipfully. “Thank you as well, Orihime-sama,” she responded.
“This dress is really beautiful,” Orihime whispered with a sigh.
“Yes,” Momo replied. “Ichigo-sama chose it for you.”
Orihime wheeled around so hard that she her neck nearly snapped. She winced slightly at the sudden movement, and then stared at Momo, surprised.
“He did?” she said, blushing. “B-but how did he know my – ah – measurements?”
Momo looked thoughtful for a moment and grinned, “He had a surprisingly good knowledge about it.”
“What?!” Orihime said, gasping. The other girl laughed, amused by her mistress’ reaction.
“Yes,” Momo replied. “Ichigo-sama is a really observant person. He just looks at some things for some time and he would know them in a degree an ordinary person wouldn’t know.”
“Oh,” Orihime said, surprised. Momo sure knew her master more than his own wife.
The clock chimed.
“Only about thirty minutes to go before the start of the party,” Momo said, gesturing for Orihime to sit in front of the mirror once again. “Let me add some final touches.”
“You nervous, m’boy?” Isshin asked, laughing at the way his son paced back and forth in his study.
“Shut up,” Ichigo muttered, walking more. He couldn’t take the strain anymore.
That sick pervert, he thought.
“Take this medicine,” Urahara said, handing a blue vial to Ichigo.
Ichigo stared at the thing doubtfully. “Are you sure this will work?” he asked, glaring at the sandal-hat.
“Of course!” Urahara said. “I tested it on myself!”
“And do you have any inner demons?!” Ichigo half-yelled. “Don’t go taking stuff when it’s not for you!”
Urahara gave him a cryptic smile, “I have inner demons, Your Highness. More than you can ever imagine.”
Ichigo unconsciously shuddered. He didn’t want to know.
“But it has certain side-effects,” Urahara said, switching from his enigmatic manner to a cheerful one. “You will be restless for about an hour.”
“Restless how?”
Urahara grinned in a perverted way.
Ichigo groaned.
Ichigo had taken the medicine at just the right time. It would give him 15 minutes allowance. It would give him time to meet his wife with his demon leashed and his arousal gone.
His inner demon.
He wasn’t sure if he would call him like that, but it would do, for the moment. Because he did act like one.
But now was not the time to think back on those things…
“Ichigo,” Isshin said, snapping his fingers in his son’s range of vision.
Ichigo’s head jerked backwards and looked at his father. “What?” he asked.
“You sure you aren’t on opium?” Isshin asked.
“Opium?” Ichigo repeated, alarmed.
Isshin chuckled. “Nothing, nothing…”
“Stupid old man,” Ichigo mumbled.
“I’ll leave you and your hard pet alone, then,” Isshin said, laughing hard as took off.
Ichigo’s eyes widened as he wondered what his old man was talking about. He had taken care of his erection minutes ago, for about a number of times already, and the effects were already wearing off.
He stared at his pants and saw the huge bulge.
He groaned as he exhaustedly went back to the adjoining room.
After a few more minutes, he came out again, panting. He rang the bell to call on a maid to bring him another change of clothes.
After fixing himself up, he stood up and surveyed the way he looked in the mirror.
As usual, Kurosaki Ichigo looked ruggedly handsome. The release of some of his desire made him look a bit too refreshed, but it could easily be ignored as a sign of a healthy relationship between him and his wife.
My wife.
He nearly died out of his consecutive erections to avoid actually having sex with her. To protect her from his inner demon.
He sighed to himself. They were both safe for now.
“Ichigo-sama,” Momo said from the doorway of his study.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Isshin-sama tells me to inform you that the party is about to commence,” she said. “The guests have already arrived, awaiting for you and Orihime-sama’s presence.”
“Alright,” Ichigo replied, following Momo towards Orihime’s chambers.
When they arrived, Orihime was already standing outside, waiting for him. Ichigo was taken aback at the sight of her, and wondered briefly is Urahara’s medicine was strong enough to keep the demon contained.
Orihime stood before him, a bit of anxiousness on her wondrous face. She was wearing the golden-colored gown he chose for her. And although he knew she would look stunning in it, he never expected her to exceed the word stunning.
The gown tightly fitted on her body, showing those luscious curves. Her hair was drawn up to an elegant series of twists and curls. Some strands of hair fell artfully near her ears and the side of her face, framing the shape of it beautifully. She wore very little make-up, as he could tell, but her lips were red as the most luscious blood, her lashes were long and were gracefully sitting on expressive, stormy gray eyes. Her cheeks were already blushing a bit at his scrutiny.
His eyes wandered down from her exposed neck to her chest. Her dress was giving him a modest peek of well-developed breasts, giving way to small hips and a flat stomach. Indeed, she was a picture of womanly perfection.
He wondered how he was going to handle this.
This is why he goes crazy.
Orihime shivered slightly. She wondered if Momo overdid it and that her husband might be struggling to contain the monster again. With a wave of her hand, she quickly dismissed Momo, who was grinning at them.
The girl left disappointedly and Orihime readied herself for what was to come.
Instead of ripping her clothes off a lustful stupor, he held out his hand.
She looked at it, stunned.
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I took some precautionary measures. You’re safe for now.”
Orihime nodded in relief, but wondered what sort of precautionary measures the prince took. But seeing his disturbed and reddening expression, she realized that it was not something to ask about.
She placed her hand in the crook of his arm as they stepped into the hall.
Light welcomed them as people expectantly stared at the newly-wedded couple, repeating the scene at the wedding.
Orihime wondered why the heavens were continuously making her go through many forms of agony.
She gave her companion a quick glance.
She only took notice of him at his most graceful form yet, a man in front of people admiring him. His steps were lithe, and his lean body moved beneath the finely-tailored suit. She had only seen and known his good looks with an evil charisma and a choking presence, but not his calm side.
But she could not decide whom she liked more.
Why am I thinking like this?!
She shook her head and pasted a warm smile. The people around her smiled at this and some were looking enviously at them.
Orihime noticed that she was being led to a group of people at the center of the room. There were three people who were English with Isshin-san, who seemed to be already observing the two of them the moment they went out.
The first man was blonde, his hair reaching his cheeks in a very straight manner. He was grinning at her as if he had known her for years, and she did not know whether to feel uncomfortable or happy with that.
The second one was a well-built man with short silver hair. He wore a repelling scowl much like how Ichigo had his face. But he looked more intimidating.
The third man could be mistaken for a Japanese because of his black hair, but his pale looks and noble bearing would tell an observer otherwise. As Orihime noticed, he was about their age, which surprised her, but the mature and assessing aura he gave off exceeded his years. He was had glasses which hid the way his eyes looked and was giving off a cold expression.
Ichigo and Orihime halted as they arrived in front of the three representatives. Orihime noticed that Ichigo was scowling at the sight of the three people present.
“This is my new daughter-in-law, Orihime-chan,” Isshin said, easing the tension and gesturing at her proudly. Orihime felt relieved at this, and curtsied.
“Aww, Ichigo!” the man with blonde hair said, “Why did you steal my first love?”
Orihime looked at the man with shock. The man looked unfazed and winked at her, the act making her blush in embarrassment.
She noticed a nerve tick in Ichigo’s forehead as he clearly fought the urge to be violent in front of so many guests. Orihime tried to ease him by giving an assuring smile, which he caught. He looked at her in surprise but calmed down.
This two are doing it well, Isshin thought, smiling to himself. He was sure that the three very perceptive people noticed the couple’s exchange, even with the ruckus.
“Ah, Orihime-chan,” Isshin said. “This man is Hirako Shinji, Duke of Claymore.”
The blonde man bowed at her with that smile of his. This time, Orihime felt amused. This man may be playful, but she could tell that he was a man of duty with a certain degree of intelligence that made him eccentric.
“And this is Muguruma Kensei, Duke of Trent,” Isshin continued, gesturing at the man with the scary expression.
“Delighted to meet you, Lady Kurosaki,” he said gruffly. His composure was briefly broken when Orihime gave off another one of those blinding smiles.
“And this is Ishida Uryuu, Count of Leicester,” Isshin finally said, gesturing at the young man with glasses.
“A pleasure to meet the woman who could bear the ills of being married to our rambunctious prince,” he said, a smirk lighting up his serious features.
Orihime felt Ichigo tense up again and she nearly laughed at this. She had now assessed Ishida to be a close friend of Ichigo’s, albeit keeping up that rival façade.
With the formalities out of the way, Orihime was free to engage in more relaxed talk. Shinji seemed to be particularly focused on catching her attention, and kept on engaging her in conversation.
“So you’re the famed missing countess,” Shinji said, laughing slightly. “Where have you been all this time?”
“In Inuzuri, my lord,” she replied honestly, smiling back.
“Inuzuri?” he asked. “Somewhere in Edo?”
“Yes.”
“So the rumors of you running away are true?” Ishida asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“And now this person,” Ishida said, spitting out the word, “Took you in as his wife. How very opportunistic.”
Ichigo contained himself, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Ishida was really a son of a bitch when it came to dire times.
“That’s not true, Ishida-sama,” Orihime said. “I agreed to this marriage.”
Shinji’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean to tell me you fell in love with this man?”
Both Ichigo and Orihime froze. They were caught off-guard by the question when out of nowhere, Isshin interrupted them by coughing.
“The Japanese representatives are here,” he said.
Tension suddenly rose again as the three English representatives waited for the new batch of people to arrive.
“Japanese representatives?” Orihime wondered aloud.
“They’re always invited in functions held by the government,” Isshin explained. “They are actually the greatest noble family of Japan from whom the English crown seized this country from. We are very much at odds at them but we have to remain civil to keep the peace we have right now.”
Orihime noticed Ichigo’s expression changed. It turned detached, almost to the point of coldness. Orihime felt that he had an antagonizing feeling against the Japanese nobles for some reason.
Are they this despicable?
The European visitors made way for a group of people dressed in traditional Japanese garb – but with a degree of nobility and proud air about them.
Only two people were noticeable among them.
The man in the front, who seemed like the leader, caught Orihime’s attention. His aura was commanding, with long jet black hair flowing gracefully to his shoulders. His porcelain skin glowed to cover his aristocratic face and build. His eyes, which were the same hue as Orihime’s, were cold and calculating – proud and overbearing.
The woman next to him was petite, but was very pretty. Her hair was also jet black and barely went past her shoulders. Even with her size, her walk was determined, and her face was set. Her deep purple eyes were intelligent and alive.
They stopped in front of the Englishmen and Orihime could feel the tension stretching up to the point of snapping.
But as usual, Isshin was quick to save the day.
“Ah, Orihime-chan,” he said, smiling at the auburn-haired beauty. “These are the representatives of the Kuchiki clan.”
Before Isshin could continue with the introductions, the male Kuchiki went forward and bowed, as though not letting others speak for him.
“An honor to meet you, Lady Kurosaki,” he said, speaking in pure Japanese. “I am Kuchiki Byakuya, 28th head of the Kuchiki clan. And this is my sister – ” he gestured to the young woman on his right.
She bowed as well and spoke in a strong feminine voice, “A pleasure to have finally met you. My name is Kuchiki Rukia.”
Orihime, who was expected to be surprised by all this tension, smiled – a calm and graceful smile which surprised the younger Kuchiki. The elder Kuchiki said nothing but stared.
“I am pleased to meet you as well,” Orihime said, replying in pure Japanese. “My name is Orihime.”
“Orihime,” Rukia repeated. “Is that your real name?”
“Yes, but I have an English name,” Orihime answered. “My parents loved this country so much that they also gave me a Japanese name.”
The smaller girl nodded in understanding.
“I see you’ve already married off your dear son,” Byakuya said, now speaking in English. Orihime felt mildly surprised by the fluent way he spoke, and she was sure that his sister also knew how to speak the language.
“Yes, I have,” Isshin replied cheerfully. “And to a very beautiful woman!”
Orihime, who had briefly forgotten about Ichigo, looked at him.
His face was carefully blank, but his stare was directed at something. Orihime did not question herself further and just listened to the conversations around her, finding ease in the hidden turmoil around her.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, his face contorted with rage.
“This is a party Ichigo, and I’m invited,” she said, laughing slightly, oblivious to the mounting anger of the man in front of her.
“I thought you told me you would stay away,” he rasped, letting go of her abruptly. “Why must you catch me off guard?”
“It’s my job, Ichigo,” she said, amused.
She was cut off from her ramblings when brown eyes stared at her at full force.
“I am not jesting,” he said. “You always make fun of the most serious situations.”
“How am I supposed to behave in a party for you and your wife?” she asked. “Not to mention that she seems so kind and trusting to the people around her. How did you get to someone like that?”
“You promised not to show your face to me again. You promised to disappear to help me forget!” he continued saying, his voice rising at every word he would like her to hear.
“Ichigo,” she said, feeling his words cut deep within her. “You always think about yourself. Always your emotions, always how you feel. Do you know how much it hurt me to leave you?”
Ichigo stared at her, his eyes wide. “Enlighten me, then,” he said. “How do you feel about me now?”
“I – ” she started, then stopped. “I have no right to say anything. Your wife – ”
“Because you left. I had to find someone else,” he said, growling the words out.
Before she could say something back, she felt his lips on hers – kissing and demanding at the same time. Memories of shy and awkward touches, kisses and more flooded back into her mind as she recalled his masculine scent that overwhelmed her senses. His lips were firm on hers, yet gentle and coaxing.
With a sense of longing creeping within her, she pushed him away. Afraid, she looked down at her feet.
“What are you doing, Ichigo?” she asked, trembling slightly.
“Rukia…”
“Ichigo, why did you do that?” Ulquiorra asked his best friend. “If I didn’t catch you, someone – ”
“Somewhat might what, Ulquiorra?” Ichigo ground out. “Tell my father? Tell Byakuya? Tell my grandfather?!”
Ulquiorra said nothing and looked at his friend.
“Don’t tell me what to do about things like this when you also go kissing my wife behind my back!” Ichigo spat.
“And dammit, do you even love her?!” Ichigo said, snapping and getting hold of Ulquiorra’s collar.
The man looked back at him with his cold eyes and said, “I am not in love with your wife.”
Ichigo’s grip tightened. “See?” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re playing with her, whereas I… I am in love. I am in love with Rukia.”
Love… love…
I’m in love with Kuchiki Rukia.
“Always have and always will,” he muttered.
“And that’s what’s wrong,” Ulquiorra said.
Ichigo stared up at him in surprise.
“That’s what separates my actions from yours,” he continued. “I acted on impulse. You acted out of emotion. With all of your body, mind and heart betraying your wife, who is the sinner?”
Ulquiorra left, leaving Ichigo in silence.
When has love been a crime to be atoned for?
Why is it that the thing you love the most can’t be touched?
Love…
Rukia…
Why did you leave me?
Betrayal. Betrayal to one’s wife.
Who is to blame when duty and desires collide?
Yes. I dared. 😀
Please be kind enough to leave a review! ^^ Thank you for reading! 😀
Chapter 9: Chapter 9
I was hyperventilating that I got 200 reviews for a mere 8 chapters! ^^ Thanks so much for all the love and support guys! I love you all!
Vfergus – your review was the most amazing! Thank you so much. As for the part about what Rangiku said to Orihime, she did say so after she thought that Ichigo needed Orihime. She added Orihime’s need for him as an afterthought, but it has a really good reason why she said that. ^^ I’m glad you picked up on that foreshadowing I gave. It was really subtle.
Eneyla-nee – *glomps you hard*
This chapter is dedicated to my BleachAsylum e-wifeyyyy, the adorable and most beautiful IchiRuki143 and to my very lovely and equally-rabid Ichigo fan girl twinnie BleachOD. 😀
Happy Halloween everyone! ^^
Chapter 9
Forgiven not Forgotten
It all started with that kiss.
One very soft, shy kiss. Almost a memory about to fade to black. To that blackness we know as the past.
One very soft, shy kiss. Unadulterated, pure…
Young and profound.
He was red in the face. She was wide-eyed.
He was fourteen, she was fifteen.
What did it matter?
They had known each other for eight years now. Childhood friends – the very best of friends. She changed his life. He changed for her.
Under the starry sky, deep purple eyes collided with brown ones, speaking a language that only they could understand. With only one look, they knew. With only one smile, one frown, one crease in one’s face, they would know.
He would know.
She would know.
That was how they were connected.
His gaze on her was intense, filled with something so inexplicable that she felt herself shiver and sway against the soft night wind. It was cold on her skin, yet her insides were on fire – a very unstable and indignant fire that threatened to consume her. He was looking at her in a way he had never looked at her before – with such longing and pain.
Pain. Pain. Pain.
“Rukia,” he said, his voice adding fuel to the fire within her.
“Ichigo,” she echoed, letting his name slide from her lips.
“Are you afraid?” he asked, moving closer, touching her face, feeling the chill on her small and delicate features.
“Why would I be afraid?” she returned. It was a challenge. Her eyes spoke volumes.
“Is that so?” he said, chuckling a bit. “Because I’m afraid.”
Her eyes widened. “Why would you be afraid?”
“I’m afraid of a lot of things when it comes to you, Rukia. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be strong enough. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be good enough. I’m afraid I wouldn’t love enough,” he said, withdrawing his hand.
She stopped him by clutching his hand to her face. “You are more than what I want and need. Forget the world, Ichigo.”
“I’m afraid to hurt you. That’s what I’m most afraid of,” Ichigo said, his eyebrows creasing.
She laughed off his statement, but her look was serious. “You won’t hurt me. Never… never.”
He gave her that smile. That smile that would always make her feel healed and hopeful.
He stroked her face with his thumb, all the while holding her close – a few inches away from his own face. Her beauty was exquisite and he would forever be mesmerized by it. Her strength was his pillar of support. Even for a woman so small, she could make his world and destiny spin in the palm of her hand.
He was possessed by her.
Those violet, violet eyes…
He touched his lips to hers, a contact so soft that it was almost like the calm breeze brushing against his skin. She sighed and moved her arms around his neck, and he almost laughed in joy.
She kissed him back – a kiss that shattered him and made him whole. It was like she could pick him up and throw him back down, yet would always soothe him. Their relationship was something that requires one to endure as much pain as they could. To stare but never touch, to desire but never hold, to cherish yet never attain…
They broke their kiss and stared into each other’s eyes for a few more moments, testing each other’s sincerity.
“Are you sure they can’t see us here?” Rukia asked, smiling a lopsided smile that made her eyes sparkle.
“No, I doubt they could,” Ichigo replied, leaning back down.
His tongue licked her bottom lip, and she gasped, as if scorched by his actions. He would forget what happened… forget what he did. Whenever he was with her, he would forget. Forget everything, forget everyone… even himself.
Her mouth opened below him and he was quick to take the opportunity, his tongue delving deep within her sweet cavern. She tasted of oranges and apples that they shared earlier. He cupped the side of her face while tilting her head back, delicately guiding her to fall back down into the soft, soft grass. He angled his face for deeper access, trying hard to be gentle and passionate at the same time.
She groaned into the kiss, and he felt like she was calling to him. He did not care about the cold sky beating down on his back, or the night chill biting at his bare skin. He would have her, right here and right now.
He felt his black kimono being opened by her small hands and he gasped into her mouth when she scraped his nipples, already delicate from the cold. He growled in response and grasped her small breasts, reveling at their sound of her voice moaning his name.
He squeezed on them tighter, a bit reluctant for he might hurt her, but seeing the rush of red creeping up her face made him confident. He would never break Rukia.
He smiled as he gently opened the folds of her purple kimono. Whenever he was with her, he would always be in his Japanese garb and she would be in hers, so that they would match and blend with the crowd. He would always wear something to cover his hair, so that no one will know it was him. They would hide an eternity but nothing would stop them…
He would have her someday.
That someday was now.
Now when he would claim her.
Once she was claimed by him now, no one would object of their union.
He groaned as he bent down and kissed the skin of her neck, trailing soft kisses down… down to her breasts. She gasped when he put one hardened nipple inside his mouth, gently sucking and biting, while molding the other breast with his rough, long-fingered hands.
“Ichi… go,” she choked out, pulling at the strands of her hair as her fingers dug deeper into his scalp, conveying what he was doing to her.
Whatever nii-sama said. Whatever he told me. Whatever he wanted to say to me, about Ichigo, it’s not real. Not real. Not real. None of it is real.
I love him. Love him, love him…
I won’t believe.
His hand slid down to cup her bottom, and she arched against him, her hips briefly hitting his growing manhood, making him growl out her name. He hitched the bottom part of her kimono, making them pool up to her hips. When she shivered, he instantly covered her with his body, making her feel the warmth and not the cold.
“Ichigo,” she sighed, holding his shoulders, their lips meeting again.
His fingers were on her innocent womanhood, tracing the line slowly, almost lazily. She bucked under his touch, her face blushing furiously. Her gaze had turned to near obsidian – dark and mesmerizing. She panted as he dug one finger in her, feeling her small hole weeping for him… hot for him.
Her groans and movements made him go harder and he kissed her hard, without restraint, without fear. She kissed him back, biting at his lip and not letting him triumph in the warring of their tongues.
This fiery lady…
A finger became too, and she gasped into his mouth, making him taste that sweet, sweet breath of hers, knocking out his senses.
Having fun?
Pause.
He froze.
Let me join in.
Who are you?
Stop.
“Ichigo?” Rukia asked, her lust-filled eyes no more, concerned ones replacing them.
That small, ripe body. Let me have it.
“Who the hell are you?!” Ichigo yelled aloud, abruptly moving away from Rukia. The girl quickly fixed her kimono and moved towards Ichigo, a frown in place on her lovely features.
Ichigo hated it when she looked that way. Hated it when he caused her pain.
Mine… share. Share her, King.
“Ahh…!” he half-yelled, rolling over on his back, as if struggling to an invisible opponent.
He last felt small hands touching him, comforting him – a voice piercing the air.
Rukia’s eyes widened as Ichigo’s irises turned amber, and the corners of his eyes turning black – like colors slowly spreading from nowhere. A dense aura was about him, suffocating her, freezing her in place.
She shook and moved backward, unable to think.
What is happening to you, Ichigo?
Is this…?
That thing… what nii-sama –
He suddenly crumpled to the floor and twitched. Once, twice, thrice… then he stopped.
Rukia reluctantly moved towards him. She reached out his hand as the cold hit her again, making her shiver against it.
“Ichi – ” she said softy when suddenly she felt the air being knocked out of her body.
When she regained her awareness she was being pinned by strong arms against the ground. Cool breath slammed against her face and an evil chuckle filled her ears. She couldn’t make sense of what was going on until her blurry vision came into place.
Ichigo was staring down at her, his eyes a mixture of ebony and amber. His mouth was twisted in a terrifying grin and he was looking at her as if he was going to pleasure and kill her at the same time.
Fear washed over her body as she started kicking and applying the self-defense she had learned. Kuchiki Rukia was a strong girl that many feared – a warrior-woman. But against this creature above her, she was no match. He remained undeterred and unfazed. He was strong as his grin became wider with each struggle she put up.
“Try not to move too much, little girl,” he said, his face nearing hers. “Or I’ll have to snap your neck. You won’t like that. He won’t like that.”
Violet eyes widened and she gasped as lips crashed against hers, bruising her. He bit her bottom lip to force her mouth open but she remained vigilant. She did not yield to him.
Ichigo… Ichigo… she said to herself, chanting his name like a prayer for him to wake up and snap out of the current situation.
But he did not budge. The creature remained, devouring, claiming, stealing. He was dominating and she could do nothing. With every touch, he would hold her hard enough that she thought she would break. With every kiss, he would kiss her hard enough that she thought she would bruise.
“You cute little thing,” he rasped coldly, ripping her kimono apart, licking her neck and biting at the skin, drawing out blood as he held her arms firmly in place and her legs in between his.
He grabbed hold of her breasts as his other hand latched on to her two arms, holding them in place without difficulty. He suckled at one nipple hungrily, showing no mercy and reservation. She gasped, ramming her chest up to his mouth more, which induced a chuckle from him.
“You’re wet for me, pet,” he said, his free hand lightly touching her entrance.
“No I’m not, you pig!” Rukia screamed back at him, rage in her eyes. Tears were starting to stream down her cheeks.
Ichigo, this is not you, she thought to herself, alarmed when the creature laughed so hard. He suddenly bunched up his trousers, revealing a very erect manhood.
Rukia watched, alarmed as he hoisted her small body above him. With a smirk, he pulled her hard towards him, ramming himself into him.
She wasn’t prepared. She lacked preparation. She wasn’t that wet yet he entered her without restraint. Pain seared through her nether region and she screamed.
“Scream louder,” he said, chuckling.
Tears streamed down her small face as he held her hips, moving her against him. She grinded against his length as blood streamed down her thighs. His sadistic grin grew wider as their damp sexes met, eliciting a sound that made her want to gag.
“Stop,” she gasped. “Stop. Ichigo. Stop.”
“I – ” Thrust. ” – am – ” Thrust. ” – not – ” Thrust. ” – Ichigo!”
She came.
With an earth-shattering force that made her want to weep and laugh at the same time. The pain and pleasure of the situation overwhelmed her so much that she slumped on his heavily-breathing form, feeling very heavy.
She shook hard when he touched her. She didn’t know what to do. Violet eyes filled with tears as she was reminded by the cruelty of the situation.
“Rukia,” Ichigo said, recoiling at the sight before him. “I’m sorry.”
Blood pooled near her thighs. Her kimono was torn up. Bruises were all over her frail body. There were cuts and wounds near her neck and bare chest. Her hair was messed up and some strands stuck to her forehead, drenched in sweat. Her face had a vacant look on them – her eyes were withdrawn, staring up at the sky.
His face contorted in pain as he took off his upper garb and wrapped her body with it. He felt like he was about to break.
He had shattered her.
What have I done?
What have I done?
WHAT HAVE I DONE?!
Rain clouds started to gather, blotting out the stars above them. Thunder exploded above them. Ichigo looked down and sheltered Rukia with his body as he ran, feeling his brain pound when he saw the way she looked at him.
Vacant.
Nothing.
He ran into the woods, trying to find someplace where they can shelter for the night.
“Ichigo,” she spoke, while he carried her somewhere he could let her rest.
“Rukia,” he answered, not daring to look at her. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry…”
“Bring me back to nii-sama,” she said, her voice far-away. “Please, please. Let me go back to nii-sama.”
“Rukia,” he said, something choking his voice. His chest suddenly felt painful.
He ran mindlessly, his legs numb. He carried her to where she wished to be – to their home. Where she and Byakuya lived.
Kuchiki Byakuya – the man who was opposed to their relationship. The man who did not want the Japanese princess to be tainted by the invaders’ prince. A proud man who did not dare let anyone touch his sister.
He wouldn’t forgive him for what he did.
“Put me down,” Rukia said, emotionlessly again. “I can walk. If nii-sama saw us, he would be angered.”
“I am prepared to take responsibility, Rukia,” Ichigo said. “Please, let me – ”
“No,” Rukia answered, turning her back on him.
Rain started to pour. It drenched the night, noisily banging against the pounding hearts of two lovers feeling their bond fade away – washing away with the rain. Ichigo felt his head grow light against the heavy downpour of the rain on his head. He watched Rukia turn her head partially towards him.
“Let me help – ” he started, but was halted when he saw tears on her eyes. He could distinguish her tears from the rain. He knew when she cried. He knew everything about her. He knew. He knew…
“No,” she stated, her voice firm even though she was crying. “If you follow me, I’ll kill you. If you follow me, I’ll tell nii-sama what you did. If you follow me, I’ll hate you!”
Crack.
Ichigo felt stunned. Why are you doing this?
Am I unforgivable?
She ran towards the rain, her back retreating, fading into the curtain of rain.
Drizzle.
Lightning.
Thunder.
None was as loud as the sound of his heart pounding.
Run, Ichigo. Run…
Ichigo jumped awake, trying to feel his surroundings. He tried to feel if he was in that damned place where the earth and the sky collided – with the rain binding them. But he was not.
Instead, he felt something silky in his hand. Something soft and definitely something strange. He bolted upright and looked at his hand.
Hair.
Soft, auburn hair.
His eyes traced the source and saw that it was his wife. Her head was slumped against the side of the bed. Her peaceful breathing could be heard against the stillness of the night. The stillness of silence.
Ichigo buried his face in his hands. He didn’t want to remember that night. That night when he hurt Rukia, that night where he lost her. He was confused as to why she suddenly left. The Rukia he knew would let him offer an explanation – she would listen to what he had to say. But she didn’t.
But who wouldn’t run away? He was a monster. He had this evil side to him as a price he had to pay for doing something deemed unforgivable. He had hurt the person that mattered most to him. He didn’t quite know what to do when he lost Rukia. He became an empty shell, not knowing how to show how he felt. The raven-haired young woman had always been able to let Ichigo act natural around her. She was comfortable to be around with and he never had to struggle with himself. The only thing to struggle against was his feelings for her.
The other thing to struggle with was that they were of completely different worlds. At first, upon realizing his feelings, he fought against it for duty. Kuchiki Rukia, even though she was his best friend, was the Japanese princess, sister to the warlord whom his own country fought against during the war to claim the oriental country. His father, the governor, associated with the Kuchikis to work on the plan of giving Japan back its freedom if it lets England become its sovereign for a period of time to prepare it for independence. “Benevolent Assimilation” as the English called it. Kuchiki Byakuya agreed to this but there was still wariness between the parties. And of course, given the developing relationship between his sister and the prince of England, Byakuya guarded his clan more.
When he confessed to Rukia, he never expected that she felt the same way. It didn’t show, if she did. She was always rough with him, always treating him like a younger brother with her authoritative manner. When he looked into her eyes and when those fiery violet eyes melted into embers and became tears of joy, with that soft smile that made his heart sing, he knew she felt the same way.
They hid their relationship. They met formally in public occasions and during times when the Kuchiki clan met with Isshin, but behind the public eye, they were lovers. They would meet in the woods, hills – somewhere discrete and beautiful. They would run away from their lives where it demanded that they put their duties first.
What is logic and duty to the call of the heart?
What is resistance?
It didn’t matter. None mattered. When they were together, they would forget that they were the prince and princess of warring nations. They were Ichigo and Rukia.
But in that devastating night, their fairy tale ended.
And it was all because of him.
A sigh brought him back to reality. He looked at the figure whose head was nestled peacefully on the side of his bed.
What is she doing here?
How did I get here?
Ichigo scratched the back of his head as he squinted in the darkness. Only the moon illuminated the room and he felt too worn out to stand and light a lamp. Somehow his body felt like lead and he had a very blurry memory as to why this happened.
His eyes returned on the sleeping woman. This young lady was now his wife. She was a stranger, a woman Ichigo only heard of in tragic tales and careless murmurs of the people around him. She was a woman who only piqued his interest in stories – the tale of the tragic heiress to a massive fortune who lost her family in an accident and who fled the life of prestige, leaving without a trace. Her choice of putting her emotions before anything else made Ichigo ridicule the tale, but now as he met the girl in person, and even became her husband it became more evident – she was really someone who would choose her heart over duty.
His other half was testament to that. Sometimes in Ichigo’s sleep, something incredible would happen. The memories of his other half would intrude his mind in consecutive nightmares in full detail that he wanted to drown and die, seeing what he did to others. Rukia – he just had a nightmare about her.
But his wife? He would torment his dreams over and over again with her. She had resigned to her fate by letting him have her. She didn’t struggle further and Ichigo wondered why she did so. He wondered why he put her duty as his wife first. She could have chosen Ulquiorra when she had a chance and eloped with him. But she didn’t. Instead, after being violated, she stayed and embraced him. She comforted him.
She put him before herself.
She was undoubtedly a kind person and Ichigo felt regretful that he had to ruin such a person’s life for his own benefit. He was sure she could have just remained as a peasant in the Japanese streets than return as a noblewoman and be married to a complete stranger.
“I believe the young woman is in trouble,” Urahara was saying, smiling slightly.
“In trouble of what?” Ichigo asked.
“She and her friends are in big debt towards the people in Inuzuri. The townspeople on the verge of murdering them.”
Ichigo smirked. “If she remained as she was she could have not been involved in these petty commoner affairs.”
“So,” Urahara continued, ignoring the young man’s brash comment, “I have decided on offering her a proposition.”
“What is it?”
“Since you need a wife of pure descent and she is a woman struggling out of a huge debt, you will use her status and blood and she will use your money to get away from both of your situations. The opportunity is already at hand and it would be like killing two birds with a single stone.”
That’s right.
She sacrificed her personal wants to save her friends. He already knew that. But still…
“WASABI!” a voice cut through the silence, intruding his thoughts.
He jumped slightly, looking incredulously at the young woman whose eyes were wide and whose face painted a look of pure terror.
“Wasa – ?” she said, then her voice faded. It seemed that she had finally realized that she was dreaming and that she wasn’t in her room.
Ichigo observed with a mixture of shock and amusement as her wide eyes scanned the room and finally settled on his sitting form. Her eyes widened more, then she gasped.
“Kurosaki-sama!” she gasped, the moonlight showing her reddening face. “I’m so sorry. I – ”
“What were you dreaming about?” he asked, puzzled.
Orihime reddened more. “I – well… I was – uh – having a nightmare that wasabi monsters were chasing me.”
Ichigo’s eyes bulged at the tale and before he could stop himself, laughter gushed from his throat. He laughed and laughed at the ridiculousness of this woman’s dream.
Wasabi monsters?
“Exactly how old are you?” he asked, in between struggles of gasping for air.
“Seventeen,” she answered shyly.
“Yet you’re having dreams of monster wasabi?” Ichigo said, amusedly.
The young woman before him smiled. A genuine, sparkling smile that arrested him for a moment. He felt time stand still for a few seconds before he snapped back to reality.
That smile – a smile so identical to someone so special to him. His mother’s smile…
He never thought he would see it on any other person. Rukia’s smile was gentle, but it had a brave and strong edge to it – it had confidence. But this girl – she had an overwhelming and very warm smile, loving was the most appropriate word. It could lighten someone’s mood and she wasn’t even aware of it.
“This is the first time I heard you laugh,” she added, smiling more.
He frowned for a bit, an act which startled her. She waved her hands apologetically. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s not my place to say that.”
“How did I get here?” he asked, out of nowhere.
“You had too much to drink,” she answered. “Ulquiorra-sama took you here and I came to take care of you.”
Ichigo looked at her, carefully hiding his surprise. “Thank you,” he answered, not feeling the need to ask further questions.
Orihime got up and bowed. Ichigo watched her when she suddenly stopped, looking at him with a gentle expression.
“Kuchiki-san asked me to tell you to take care of yourself,” she said. “She also asked me to smack you in the head if ever you get drunk again.”
Ichigo’s eyes widened for a fraction of a millimeter. But this action wasn’t missed by Orihime’s perceptive eyes. She turned and left, feeling that there was something between the Japanese noblewoman and Ichigo. It was also evident in the way Ulquiorra acted towards Kuchiki Rukia.
She walked to her room in silence, with a faint trace of a smile on her face. She recalled how her husband laughed.
Your laugh is something that can never be forgotten, she thought, entering her room.
“Rukia,” Kuchiki Byakuya said, eyeing his younger sister’s back. She shifted slightly from her sitting position and looked at her brother with blank eyes.
“Hai, nii-sama?” she asked.
“He has married someone else,” he stated plainly, unaware that his sister felt a sudden yet familiar pain jolt her system. “And yet you cannot be married off because of what he did to you.”
Rukia kept her face straight. “I am sure that even though I am still untouched, nii-sama won’t let me marry anyone.”
This was true. Given how possessive and protective Kuchiki Byakuya was, Rukia wouldn’t be married for the rest of her life. He had always been like that, and Rukia often wondered why. She loved her brother, enough to tolerate him. She owed him so much and cared for him that she couldn’t dare to defy or leave him.
Ichigo was a moment of weakness in her life. She fell in love with someone she shouldn’t have. And now she was left there, hoping he waited for her to come around and be someone to worthier of him and herself. He was now married to a very beautiful English noblewoman. Someone who was so kind and clearly trusting, as Rukia observed.
The silence indicated that Byakuya had already left her alone. She sighed in relief as she slumped back against the wooden floor, trying to regain her strength.
She found Ichigo drunk in a table of the farthest corner of the hall, silent and brooding. Before she could move, she saw that the girl named Inoue Orihime was already walking towards her husband, her footsteps graceful yet quick.
She could only look on, feeling helpless. But from the way the girl moved, Rukia knew she was far from in love with her husband. It’s just that she was the rare breeds of people who genuinely cared for others – relative or not. Attached or unattached.
She couldn’t quite fathom what she was feeling right now. A deep sense of regret and relief. Ichigo found someone so rare and caring as that woman named Inoue Orihime. Yet, Rukia was saddened that she wasn’t the one beside Ichigo now. It was because their destinies were so far away from each other that they were impossible to cross each other’s paths – to cross to the point of being lovers and a formal couple.
“I’ll stay away,” she said, saying those carefully rehearsed words, looking at him with her guarded eyes, smiling that controlled smile.
She disregarded the way his eyes crumbled and how her words might have hurt him. How her words might have hurt her.
“Why?” he asked.
“I have to, Ichigo,” she said, turning away. “My duty is to my brother. You will soon find yours.”
My brother, Rukia thought.
Ichigo.
Yes. I dared again. XD
Thanks for reading this chapter. Please leave a review. =)
It’s a bit short compared to the previous chapter though. I apologize for that. I’m actually cramming my time. I’m on vacation right now but I tried my best to update for you guys! ^^ *hug hug*
Chapter 10: Chapter 10
Thanks for the reviews. I’m sorry if I put a lot of IchiRuki parts. ^^ I think I wanted to prove to myself that I can write any piece of fan fiction or any type of literature without bias. I think it turned out well for an IchiRuki hater like me. XD
So, here I am for another update.
Please leave another review if you can. Thank you! ^^
Chapter 10
Bitter Work
Orihime inhaled sharply, quickly regretting so when her lungs felt a stinging sensation from the having too much air. She winced briefly and held her stomach.
She didn’t mind the pain though. The smell of the open sea was overwhelming her senses. It brings back memories of the happier times when her parents would take her and her brother to other countries. The adventure always lay in the deep, vast blue and she relished the feeling once again.
The past isn’t always about bitterness, she thought to herself, smiling slightly.
Right now they were sailing back to England.
Back to England.
At least for now.
She was about to meet with the King of England – a man known to be shrewd, cunning and willful. She hadn’t met the man before, but the stories of his conquests had certainly infiltrated her ears. There were gruesome tales, but they were, nonetheless, great. It was shown how much of an intelligent and manipulative person the king was. And now, it was evident in the way he was controlling his grandson’s life.
Orihime sighed. She had to help Ichigo no matter what. This wasn’t a matter of doing what she was paid for anymore, but a matter of duty. And somehow, she cared…
“Lady Kurosaki,” a deep voice said from behind her.
She turned around and a faint smile automatically painted her face.
It was Ulquiorra.
She had forgotten that he had come along the trip as Isshin requested. He was there to make sure that Ichigo would do his duties well and also to visit his parents who were still back in England.
She wondered briefly if he was excited to see them again.
It certainly didn’t show in his face, she thought in slight amusement, her mouth twitching slightly. He never does really show how he feels.
“Ulquiorra-sama,” Orihime said in acknowledgement, curtsying. The side of her eyes caught sight of the rapidly disappearing port. She suddenly felt a sense of loneliness.
“I am here to inform you that we have other important passengers,” Ulquiorra added.
He gestured behind him.
Orihime’s eyes widened as she registered the faces of the three English representatives – Hirako Shinji, Muguruma Kensei and Ishida Uryuu. There were also two other faces – one who was familiar and the other who was a stranger.
Kuchiki Rukia, whom she had already seen earlier when the dark-haired woman was about to board the ship, and a new face – older woman with dark skin and cat-like amber eyes.
“I believe you’ve met these four before,” Ulquiorra said. “This newcomer is Shihouin Yoruichi-sama. She is the head of the Shihouin clan of Japan and also one of the representatives of Kuchiki Byakuya.”
The tall woman smiled and bowed to Orihime. The auburn-haired girl returned the gesture, feeling the authority and gentleness that surrounded this woman that reminded her subtly of her aunt, Rangiku.
“Where is Ichigo?” Rukia blurted out in a bossy manner, earning a sigh from Yoruichi and scandalized gazes from Shinji and Kensei. Uryuu merely adjusted his glasses.
“He’s – ” Orihime started to answer when a sound of someone’s throat being cleared was heard.
“Here,” a voice said. Ichigo walked towards them and placed himself beside Orihime, with a very serious expression on his face. “The captain informed me that there might be a storm blowing in tonight. Just be prepared, I’m sure we’ll make it through.”
“Shouldn’t we stop at some island?” Shinji said. “And why did you go on with the trip in the first place if there was a storm coming up?”
“Coz it’s not that strong,” Ichigo answered, walking away.
“That guy is trying to kill us,” Shinji said, shaking his head.
Rukia stared at Ichigo’s back as he walked away. She wondered if her presence during the whole trip was bothering him. He was a man who rarely showed how he felt, but Rukia knew something was up with him the moment he saw her board the ship.
When his eyes met hers, there was a hint of surprise in them. He started to frown and started to say something when his wife, who suddenly appeared beside him, called out to her in friendly recognition – waving her hands and smiling that radiant smile.
Almost instantly, she observed how Ichigo’s eyes went from cold to something else. He gave out a sigh and just looked away from her.
This made Rukia unable to respond to the auburn-haired girl’s gesture. She just smiled a small smile and proceeded on walking her way to the ship.
Did Ichigo just restrain himself in the presence of his wife?
If it were the old Ichigo, he would still have blurted out the words, “What are you doing here, Rukia?”
But he did not.
He walked away.
Rukia sighed to herself, which earned her the amber gaze of the woman beside her. She nodded in reassurance and started to walk away, when a hand shot out to stop her.
It was Orihime.
“Gomen,” she said shyly. “But do you want to join us for lunch, Kuchiki-san?”
Rukia’s eyebrows rose for a moment. She was unsure if Ichigo’s new wife knew about her past relationship with Ichigo. She was also wondering if this English duchess (now a princess) was just playing with her. As her Byakuya-niisama said, never trust someone who is not of your league.
But one look into the girl’s beautiful gray eyes and Rukia was confused. The look was sincere, and she couldn’t help but nod in concession. The other woman’s grin broadened as she hopped on cheerfully to her cabin, telling them that she will see them later in the dining halls.
“That woman is so beautiful,” Shinji sighed from behind Rukia.
Rukia stared at the man as he shrugged.
“I know why you’re here, Kuchiki Rukia,” he added, his smile going mysterious.
“Nii-sama, please allow me to do this,” Rukia pleaded, her dark violet eyes pleading and convincing the unyielding man before her.
“No,” Kuchiki Byakuya replied without hesitation.
“Then what do you propose we should do?” she continued, “Wait for the mercy of the English court? That is not fair to the people of Japan, nii-sama!”
Byakuya eyed her with impatience, “I shall not risk you going to a foreign land in where your throat might be slit in any second and for any reason they might deem to think of. We shall wait, Kuchiki Rukia. You know you’re place. You know what you have to do.”
“Wait and be the princess of a country that we are not even sure of gaining back?!” Rukia asked wildly. “Where is your pride brother? Where do you hide the pride and bravery father has taught us?!”
“Rukia, do not use that lecture against me. Pride is something we do have. But right now, we shall deal with our every move with caution and intelligence. It is not wise to risk the lives of any of us.”
“A single grain of rice can tip the scale, brother… I may be the difference between victory and defeat,” Rukia retorted.
“Rukia,” Byakuya started, “I cannot let you sacrifice yourself for the sake of our freedom.”
“How can you say that I will be sacrificed?”
“Because this is the English we’re talking about!”
“They are not all evil!”
A smirk graced Kuchiki Byakuya’s cold features. “Are you referring to Kurosaki Ichigo? The prince whom you loved, cherished, and adored? The same man who stripped you of your purity and left you to marry another woman?!”
“I LEFT HIM!” Rukia yelled, getting up, unshed tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “ALL FOR THIS!”
She threw a piece of paper in front of her brother.
Kuchiki Byakuya opened it, his eyes widening for every line he read.
“Rukia, this…”
“Yes, this is our key to freedom. In exchange of leaving Ichigo,” she said, turning around
She started to leave when Byakuya said, “Very well, you may go. But I shall send Shihouin Yoruichi with you.”
Rukia smiled a faint smile.
She will win everything that was lost to her and her country back. She would fight for everything she held dear…
With everything she can… with all means necessary.
“How do you know?” Rukia asked, keeping her expression professional.
Shinji grinned. “I know very well of every move the English crown makes. I have very dear friends who keep me informed.”
“Then you might know that there will be no place for you to go back in the East once I’m done with this,” Rukia answered confidently.
Shinji didn’t answer. He merely looked at her, his eyes showing something close to pity…
“Let’s go, Rukia,” Yoruichi said from behind the small girl.
Rukia nodded as she followed the taller woman, confused at how Shinji looked at her.
I will not waver Hirako Shinji.
I hope you do not waver, Kuchiki Rukia.
“Do you think the king will hold his end of the deal?” Shaolong Qufang asked, frowning at the sapphire-haired young man before him.
The young man smirked, plucking a piece of grape from the silver plate beside him and putting it in his mouth.
“Of course he will,” he said authoritatively. “He may be cunning, but he knows his only chance of continuing his bloodline when he sees it.”
“But your cousin – ”
“Do you think he’ll reach England’s shores alive?” he asked his assistant, his mad aquamarine eyes twitching with excitement.
“He already has a wife,” Edorad Leones interrupted from beside the half-English, half-Chinese assistant. “And he sails with the finest men there is in Japan. There are also very important people with him.”
“A storm does not choose its victims, you fool,” he retorted, eating another fruit.
The two stared at this young man before them. Grimmjow Jaggerjacques, second in line to the throne of England. He is the son of the second eldest daughter of the king and the dauphin of France. He was supposed to inherit the throne in France, but the prince refused. He wanted both France and England.
The tragedy to the part of the king was that all of his children were women – four women.
Luckily, they can bear him grandsons. The king then arranged them all for marriage one by one. The willful eldest daughter, Masaki, asked her father for a trip to Japan – to see the orient with her own eyes before succumbing to marriage. The man, having a soft spot for his favorite daughter, agreed. But little did he know that she would run off and marry another man there.
That began the fight for the crown. The king has become old, and even though he was still at the peak of his mental capacity, his body was failing now and then – a bad sign.
If the line of succession were to be followed accordingly, half-blood or not, Kurosaki Ichigo was next in line to the throne. But the court was not pleased at all with this, and insisted that the crown be given to Grimmjow, the eldest son of the second princess, Halibel, unless the king found a way to restore the golden bloodline somehow. The chances of the absent prince being married again to a Japanese citizen were very huge; given the fact that he was in Japan and that there was little to none of English noblewomen there.
The king decided to force the prince back to England for marriage, unwilling to merge the English and French empire under the rule of his megalomaniac grandson, but was not pleased at all when he heard Ichigo was having an affair with a Japanese woman – and the Japanese “princess” at that.
“What happened to that Japanese woman?” the question emerged out of Shaolong’s mouth.
Grimmjow shrugged. “I see that my cousin has an eye for power after all. He may not be as stupid as I deemed him to be.”
“He has married the famous Lost Duchess, thus holding his end of the bargain with the king,” Edorad said. “How about you sire? When do you intend to marry? I’m sure that you need a wife for the king to consider you.”
Grimmjow scowled. “I don’t even know what that cunning old man sees in Kurosaki. I thought he was supposed to be the feared king of England, now I’m wondering if he has gone stale with his age. Who would give a bastard so many chances just to ascend the throne?”
“We all know he favors – ”
“ENOUGH!” Grimmjow said, standing up rapidly and grabbing Edorad’s collar. “I AM THE RIGHTFUL KING! I AM THE RIGHTFUL HEIR!”
“Your Highness, he was just stating that we must act – ” Shaolong appeased as he looked at Edorad’s reddening face.
Grimmjow let go of Edorad’s collar and turned away. “If you are worried about marriage, then do not be. I am already engaged to the Austrian princess, Neliel tu Oderschvank.”
“The king of Austria has already consented, Your Highness?” Shaolong asked.
“Of course, you dimwit. Who can reject the prince of both France and England? I can destroy that country with only a snap of my fingers, without earning any scratch in the process.”
“When will you be married, Your Highness?”
Grimmjow laughed a wild laugh. “The day after tomorrow, you ignorant fool.”
“I cannot allow you to marry him, Nell,” he pleaded. “I proposed to you first!”
Neliel tu Oderschvank sighed and looked at the man before her. Nnoitra Jiruga, one of the governors of the many lands of Austria.
“I do not love you, Nnoitra,” she said firmly. “I cannot agree to a marriage without love.”
“Are you saying that you love this… this beast?!” Nnoitra spat in disgust. “This beast who holds no conscience? A man who is so power-hungry that rumors have already spread that he plans to seize the crowns of two empires for himself?”
Nell eyed the man’s single eye with gentleness. “Yes, I love him.”
“You are mad!” he said, leaving her alone under the maple tree of the palace’s huge garden.
She sighed and sat down on the soft grass. She could not believe Grimmjow even considered marrying her. They met as children – in a ball hosted by the French empire. She attended because her older sister, Mila Rose, was to be married off to the younger brother of the dauphin of France.
They met there, during the ball, and Nell was already bored out of her mind. Grimmjow was holding this scowl on his face as men and women ogled over him. One look at him, and Nell instantly had this liking to the boy.
In parties that were held and every chance she gets, she tries to talk to the prince, but would end up being ignored or insulted. This left her broken-hearted and saddened, but she did not waver. She knew from the moment she saw him, that he was the one for her. She also knew that she wanted him… wanted to see that part of him that was approachable and not manipulative or cruel as the rumors show him to be.
She sighed again and smiled, looking up at the orange sky, indicating the impending darkness that was about to engulf the afternoon sky. A few months ago, her father had received a letter from the French king, summoning Neliel tu Oderschvank, specifically, to have a marriage interview with the prince.
Nell was ecstatic, but her parents were not. They knew the rumors, and even though this union would be a great asset to Austria (since Grimmjow could be king of both France and England), they were reluctant to marry their beloved princess to the cruel prince.
But she knew that he wasn’t like that. She knew there was something about him that needed to be healed and be brought out. And she hoped that she would be the one to change him.
Two days have already passed…
His head was already floating with the clouds.
Ichigo stared at the people before him, chatting merrily as they ate the food laid out before them. Shinji was the jolliest of all, often engaging in conversation with his wife – smiling that annoying smile which annoys Ichigo.
The woman named Yoruichi was conversing with Kensei, who had a serious expression on. Ichigo knew that they were taking about the colony and England again, and he was growing tired about that discussion so he decided not to know.
Ulquiorra was looking as passive as ever, joined by Ishida, who appeared to be observing Shinji and Orihime.
Rukia was silent as Ichigo observed in the corner of his eye. She was seated beside Yoruichi and was barely touching her food. She appeared to be deep in thought.
Ichigo scowled and played with the carrots on his plate. He knew that she was sent for a matter to be transacted with the king. No doubt that she would be asking again, appealing again, for the liberation of Japan from the English crown. This was an idea Ichigo seriously doubted would happen, knowing his grandfather.
It must be a taste of cruel fate for us to be together in this ship, Ichigo thought wryly.
Weeks of sailing… weeks of seeing her over and over again – something that was torturing to him. It increased the tension within him and stabbed him with guilt numerous times. He felt angry – not to Rukia but with himself. And this seemed to be manifesting well in his actions and it would appear to the others as if he was angry with Rukia.
He didn’t mind though. He didn’t want any suspicion of anything going on between them. He needed to keep a distance, knowing that three spies were on this ship. His gaze briefly flickered to Ishida, Kensei and Shinji, and looked back down to his plate.
“That’s what separates my actions from yours,” he continued. “I acted on impulse. You acted out of emotion. With all of your body, mind and heart betraying your wife, who is the sinner?”
He regarded Ulquiorra with a blank expression. Ulquiorra caught sight of this and looked straight back. Ichigo might not admit it, but the very thought of his wife made him unable to think about doing anything dumb with Rukia – do anything even as much as talking with her about anything other than what was necessary. Ulquiorra’s words reminded him over and over.
But my wife is in love with Ulquiorra, Ichigo thought with dry amusement. It’s like a sick twist of destiny that two strangers in love with other people are stuck in a marriage for convenience. What a cruel world…
This left him looking at the brilliant smile of Orihime, who was unperturbed of the tension surrounding her – surrounding the people around her. She was innocent and pure – someone he did not deserve. She could be someone better off with Ulquiorra – to be with a person who lacks a heart so that some of her big heart could rub off on him.
Whereas he… he…
He needed her.
Kuchiki Rukia.
He closed his eyes briefly, willing himself to calm down.
“My lord,” a voice intruded his thoughts. He mentally shook his head and looked into concerned gray eyes.
He was startled for a second at the way Orihime was looking at him. He could feel heat threatening to creep up to his cheeks. To stop himself, he coughed into a napkin and looked at the young woman with a questioning gaze.
“Are you alright?” she asked. “You were looking disturbed a while ago and now you look flushed.”
“I think he’s just thinking of you, princess,” Shinji commented, grinning slyly at Ichigo.
“M-me?” Orihime asked, her eyes wide.
“Shut your mouth, Hirako,” Ichigo said, frowning that his attempt at hiding a blush was in vain. It wasn’t like he was blushing because of Orihime, rather he was blushing because she surprised him.
“Is the food not to your liking?” Orihime asked, a bit worried. She had noticed the changes in expression in Ichigo’s face even as Shinji unstoppably tried to flirt with her. Honestly, she couldn’t help but worry for her husband.
She also noticed how he seemed to change whenever Kuchiki Rukia was around.
She saw how he was about to say something to the petite woman when she was boarding the ship. He looked shocked and disturbed by her sudden presence. From what Orihime had heard, her husband and Kuchiki Rukia were friends back in the days. Something must have happened to them to cause a rift between them.
But she didn’t wonder further for this didn’t concern her at all.
Lunch flew by pretty fast, with Ulquiorra finally stopping Shinji from following Orihime all the way to her cabin. Ichigo said nothing about Shinji’s antics and just walked on to follow Orihime. They had decided to share the same cabin since the three “spies of the king” might be suspicious that they were sleeping in separate rooms.
Ichigo sighed and sat down an ornately-furnished chair near a small window. He took out a small book from his pocket and began to read.
Orihime observed him as he did so, the light and darkness playing on his masculine face. Visions of a passionate and corrupted night once shared filled her thoughts, as she recalled the way those firm lips kissed her lips, her breasts, her lower, lower aching nether lips…
She recalled the wanton and crazy ebony and amber eyes, his furious whispers of her name as he came inside her… he could feel his passion and possessiveness envelope her body and she could feel her insides tying up in numerous knots and smoldering heat.
Why am I thinking about this?!
“Orihime,” a voice said, cutting of her dangerous recollections.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, flailing her arms, looking away to hide her blushing cheeks.
“If you’re disturbed about Shinji, you should tell him so,” he said. “I know he’s a pain in the rear, but he actually knows when to stop when told to.”
“Oh,” Orihime said. He’s referring to Shinji, not me. “Let him be, my lord. He doesn’t mean any harm.”
Ichigo frowned at this. Honestly, this woman doesn’t know how to be mad. If it were another woman, Shinji would have been dead meat by now. But this could be a trait of hers that could please his grandfather.
“KUROSAKI-SAMA!” a nervous shout and an urgent knock came banging at the door.
“What is it?!” Ichigo responded with impatience.
“The ship is being attacked by pirates, Your Highness!” The voice responded.
Before Orihime knew it, Ichigo was already at his feet, grabbing a sword which was laid beside the table – a weapon that she did not even see given the huge size of it. It was wrapped with bandages and had a look of a butcher knife to it.
“Stay here, Orihime,” Ichigo commanded. “I will protect you.”
Orihime’s eyes widened at his words as he left and locked the door behind him.
Rukia rushed to the scene, flying past the door which was supposed to be Ichigo and Orihime’s cabin.
“Stay here, Orihime,” she heard Ichigo from the other side of the door as she ran past it. “I will protect you.”
She felt her heart break a little at his words. She was a strong and capable woman and she never once did hear Ichigo say that he will protect her. Save her, yes, but protect her? Never…
She ignored the words and emotions echoing in her brain and clenched her white katana tightly, ready for battle.
It was no wonder that they were attacked by pirates. It has been rumored that there were plenty of attacks in the seas that were two to three days away from Japan. She only hoped that these were the weak bandits that were attacking them. She concluded that they were weak, as she took a few more steps, since she was not hearing any sounds of cannon or gun fire.
When her footsteps reached the deck, she saw that Hirako Shinji and Muguruma Kensei were already fighting off the intruders. Nasty pirates gnashed their teeth as they tried to land attacks on the two men.
They were outnumbered, she knew. Ichigo chose not to carry so much people with them for he thought it wiser to depend on skill rather than number.
He might be right in his decision but right now, it seemed that they will rely a bit on number for this fight.
The pirate ship wasn’t that big, and a plank was already attached to their ship, with pirates howling from it in battle cries to steal treasures.
She felt the wind rush past her as an arrow flew barely inches away from her face. She looked up in alarm and saw that Ishida Uryuu was atop one of the ship’s mast, hurling arrows at enemies, offering back-up.
“Stop spacing out, Kuchiki!” he yelled as Rukia heard a thud from behind her. Apparently, a pirate was about to attack her from behind.
Rukia scowled at what the English nobleman said and ran forward, fighting off the pirates.
She deflected a blow that was about to reach her stomach easily, dancing around the enemy in grace as she landed a blow on top of the rowdy man’s head, disgruntling the man and finally finishing him off with one slash of her katana to the stomach.
Two other men ran to her quickly, raising their swords. She grinned and swept them off their feet with one kick, sending them all to the ground. Blood came from their mouths as she stabbed each one without reluctance.
She heard splashes and smiled as she saw Shihouin Yoruichi take down each man with her graceful martial arts, sending them flying one by one overboard.
The sound of metal against metal. She gloried in the battle.
A glint caught the side of her eye and she looked, surprised as Ichigo came running and attacking the opponents one by one, his movements rough but skillful.e
He had Zangetsu in his hand – the huge katana she had a skilled Japanese blacksmith make as a present to the young man. Together, in a moonlit night, they named the thing “Zangetsu,” a reminder of how Ichigo always reached out to the heavens and cut anything to defy the odds.
She started to grin, but her smile froze in place as she felt something cold slip through her stomach. Something very cold…
It took a lot of will for her to look down to see a blade protruding from her stomach.
Damn, I got distracted again, she thought wildly as her vision succumbed to darkness.
A distant voice echoed in her head… Ichigo calling her name…
“RUKIA!”
I went more for the alternating scenes in this chapter… to give some preview on what may happen next. 😀
Done and done.. 😀 Hope you liked it… please review.. 😀
This is a bit short as well… gomen, I’ve been busy. 😀 And I think it’s more appropriate to put some drama for the next chapter. XD
Chapter 11: Chapter 11
I’m glad most of you guys got my point. You can’t really get over someone you really loved in an instant, especially when you’re forced in a situation where you can see him/her always yet you can’t touch coz you’re already committed to someone.
Ichigo being in love with Rukia is part of the plot, not just something I wanted to prove in writing. I hope you understand. Without this part of the plot, the angst and drama – the resolve and resolution leading towards IchiHime would be useless and would appear like any other drama fan fic you’ve read. I strive to differ, so please bear with me. ^^
I so love you guys for the reviews. Thank you so much for reviewing! *hug
Enelya-nee, thanks for those words of praise and encouragement. *hug
And to those who asked, I’m not an IchixRukixHime shipper. ^^ I’m plain IchiHime… XD
Here’s the 11th chapter. Sorry if it’s late.
Chapter 11
Chasing Shadows
Ichigo stiffened as he watched Rukia fall – fall… fall… fall…
So slowly she did, with an accursed piece of metal pierced through her stomach. Blood spurted out of her mouth, her face turning pale as her eyes turned darker, frighteningly blank.
With a thud, she fell, landing on the floor in a crumpled heap, surrounded by a mass of blood.
Ichigo felt his own body move, running towards that small figure that fell slowly amidst the bloody background.
And then…
“Kuchiki-san!” another voice yelled from behind him.
Ichigo froze more. He watched as Orihime ran to where Rukia was, trying to carry the girl away from the scene.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as a man with a beefy body and huge arms smiled a sickeningly perverted smile. He wrapped his arms around Orihime, who yelped in shock. He started licking the side of her neck, and when Orihime tried to squirm out of his grasp, effectively kicking his groin, he yelled.
The man raised his dagger.
Ichigo felt a bursting energy sweep through him. He felt his mind being sucked back into oblivion. His muscles tensed as a wave of power surged through his body, forcing his consciousness to the back of his mind.
No one touches her.
The man slashed the side of Orihime’s neck, her blood flying forth to mix with Rukia’s.
Orihime could feel the ship’s floor shake beneath her. She could feel warmth springing from her neck as pain shot up through her body, making her convulse. She was about to slip into darkness when she saw something approach the man who was holding her tightly that she couldn’t breathe.
It was Ichigo.
Though, he wasn’t Ichigo.
His eyes – the same eyes that had touched and violated her many, many nights ago. Those frightening eyes that seemed to threaten her, yet beguile her.
She tried looking away, only to look at the shocked expression of the man before her.
A slash and a squelch.
Blood rained over her face as the man’s head suddenly disappeared, letting her peek into the remains of bone and flesh that was where his neck and body were once connected.
Orihime almost gagged as she swallowed a bit of the man’s blood. She smelled the repulsive red things. She watched in horror and disgust as the man’s head rolled and rolled, stopping near the plank where the pirates had put.
She fell to the floor in a thud, bathing more in the mixed blood of her, Rukia and the pirate.
Her stomach churned sickeningly at the sight and smell, but this didn’t bother her for long since she was feeling more and more dizzy.
Another roar was heard.
Her eyes flew to where it came from.
There were two more heads on the floor.
“No one…” she heard Ichigo breathe out, in that twisted voice of his, swinging his huge sword. “No one touches her. No one… She’s mine!”
Orihime’s eyes widened as another life was snuffed out before her. The others seemed to be too busy fighting to even realize what was going on with the prince.
I must… I must call out to him. I must stop him…
I must not let anyone see him like this…
Shakily, she stood up, trying her best to maintain her balance and walk to where Ichigo was. She could feel her focus slipping, and her brain reeling, but she didn’t mind. She had to help him. She had to save him.
“Ku… Kurosaki – ” she started, finally reaching the enraged man.
The beast stopped and stared as warm hands slipped from behind him – wrapping him in a weak, yet effective embrace.
He inhaled sharply as he smelled that intoxicating fragrance of her scent mixed with blood and sweat – a thing which was his undoing, his aphrodisiac… his heaven.
“Please stop,” she whispered, her throat dry… her strength draining out of her with each word she spoke.
Ichigo stopped, feeling his awareness slip back as the oblivion turned into the bright afternoon sky. He could feel her around him – that powerful sense of healing that was overbearing him. Despite his madness, she was there to guide him, to make him see that he was a human. She was his sanity.
But why would she do it?
His tirade of questions disappeared as she felt her hands slip away from his waist. He swiftly turned around and caught her mid-fall.
“No,” he whispered, seeing the pool of blood form in his hands as blood poured like a small waterfall from her neck.
He assessed the wound. It wasn’t deep. It didn’t cut any vein or artery.
All was forgotten as a huge sense of panic washed over him. Blood, which did not belong to Orihime, covered his clothing. His sword was bloodied. Chunks of blood, flesh, and detached heads were around him. All of the things pointed out with him as the suspect.
And all of this because he was maddened at the sight of Orihime being held and hurt by another man.
What did I do? What did I do? WHAT DID I DO?!
Footsteps thundered from behind him and halted beside the two.
“What happened?” Shinji asked, rushing behind Ichigo. “No… Orihime-chan.”
“We don’t have a doctor with us,” Kensei said, gritting his teeth. “Isshin said he would contact Unohana Retsu for us, yet that absent-minded fool must have forgotten.”
Ichigo could feel the tension rising up in him in frightening levels. He looked up helplessly around him, only to see Rukia being held by Shihouin Yoruichi, with Ishida Uryuu beside them.
“Rukia,” he whispered. He wanted so badly to go to her, but…
Something deep within him was restraining him. One look at the pale face of the woman in his arms and he decided against it.
Why?
“Step aside, please, gentlemen,” a voice said from behind them.
It was Unohana Retsu.
“Ghost,” Shinji whispered in alarm.
Retsu regarded them with that trademark expression of hers, sending them all to silence and removing all questions that they were about to ask.
How did that monster-woman get here? Ichigo wondered to himself. Suddenly, the older woman shot him a look that lost him his soul.
Did she just read my mind?!
“Kurosaki-sama,” she said. “Please bring Orihime-sama to your room. I can treat her better there and it’s not a very deep wound.”
Ichigo could only nod, sweeping Orihime into his arms and hurrying to their cabin.
“Ishida-sama,” Retsu added. “I’m sure you know what to do for shallow wounds. Please help Orihime-sama.”
Ishida got up from where he was and followed Ichigo. Retsu quickly attended to Rukia, who was bleeding from the sword wound. She quickly instructed the people around her to bring some things for her, skillfully moving at a pace the people around her were awed at.
“Ichi…” Rukia was mumbling.
“Ssh, Kuchiki-san,” Retsu said. “Please rest for a while.”
The woman worked for hours at the very spot, not bothering to move Rukia for an inch. She called out people to get whatever it is that she required. The Japanese slaves obeyed immediately, seeing that the wounded was their princess.
“Unohana-san,” a voice said from behind her.
Retsu didn’t bother to raise her head. “Aren’t you supposed to be by your wife’s side?”
“I – ” Ichigo started, feeling a sense of guilt sweep over him. Guilt which was swiftly replaced by indignation. “Rukia’s my friend. I have to see how she is.”
“I’ve stopped the bleeding,” she added to the people who were anxiously gathered up around them. “Luckily, the blade missed any vital organs. But let her rest for a while.”
Shihouin Yoruichi nodded. “Careless girl,” she mumbled, easily lifting the smaller girl into her arms and carrying her away from where the bloody operation happened.
“Wait – ” Ichigo said, attempting to follow, but was halted by Yoruichi’s piercing gaze.
“Come closer, intruder, and I’ll slit your throat,” she said with deadly poison in her voice. “I may have agreed to be civil, but I still have a hard time being around any Englishmen. Especially towards you.”
Ichigo stopped at these words and his gaze lowered. That’s right. I have no right to even be concerned with Rukia – to think of any thoughts about her. I damaged her. And now, Orihime…
Orihime…
He felt his legs move back to the cabin, back to where his wife was laying on silken sheets mixed with blood. He clenched his fists, a sticky feeling lingering in them, a sure sign that told him that all the blood she had spilled and all the blood he had spilled for her was drying up on his skin.
She has triggered the emotionless and conscienceless side of him that he had never wanted to bring up again. What’s more, she had taken it as her responsibility to look after both him and his evil side.
She protected him.
When he entered the room, Zangetsu’s blade caught his attention. The blade Rukia gave him to fight and protect himself from those who endangered the ones he loved.
Rukia gave me the power to protect.
But this woman…
Orihime…
She gave me the reason and will to protect.
Ichigo shook his head, unable to go on with these mind-boggling thoughts. She motioned to where Ulquiorra was standing, his emerald eyes transfixed on the sleeping form before him.
“Where have you been?” he asked in a monotone voice.
“To see Rukia,” Ichigo answered frankly,
“Hn,” the pale-skinned man commented, eyeing Ichigo. “You still haven’t changed.”
Ichigo ignored the statement and sat on the side of Orihime’s bed. He peered into her peacefully sleeping face, feeling his own teeth clench at his helplessness in the whole situation.
“You always want to protect everyone,” Ulquiorra said. “But you can’t.”
“Aren’t you the talkative one today?” Ichigo said mockingly.
“If you do not want her, then give her to me,” the pale man said from behind him.
Ichigo whirled around to face his best friend. Ulquiorra may not be the warmest person he knew, but the reason why they became close was because of their fierce loyalty to their beliefs and the constant need to discover their weaknesses and fight them. Now, they were here, standing face to face – squaring off to find the man suitable for the sleeping princess.
Ichigo couldn’t answer. He didn’t know the answer to Ulquiorra’s question.
But he was married to Inoue Orihime for a reason. And it was to claim what was rightfully his.
“Why do you want her?” Ichigo asked back, trying to search for the answers in Ulquiorra’s enigmatic gaze. “I thought you didn’t – ”
“Desire her?” the other man interrupted. “You’re as naïve as ever, Ichigo. I want her. And it seems that she has taken more than an interest towards me. Someone like you can never make her happy. Someone like you who is still so concerned with another woman.”
“I…” Ichigo said, letting those words hit him. He was guilty of it. He knew that he would never be truly free, nor haunted, by his feelings for Rukia. He let his vision slightly take in the weakened form beside him – his wife’s pale, pale face that seemed to contrast the lively woman she really was.
“Get out,” he said.
Ulquiorra’s eyes widened for a fraction of a millimeter.
“Get out,” Ichigo repeated, this time in a fiercer tone. “She’s my wife. I may love another, but I have taken responsibility of her the moment I married her. Now, get out.”
“I will never understand you,” he added before Ulquiorra stepped out. He chuckled lightly at his friend.
“Of course you won’t. You never take time understanding people,” Ulquiorra said, leaving the room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” a boy around the age of 13 said, looking extremely displeased at the sight before him.
Hitsugaya Toushirou, third prince of England, glared at the 10-year-old girl who sat on the shoulders of the most feared military man of the country. The girl was tugging at the spiky ends of General Zaraki Kenpachi’s hair, giggling very hard.
“Yachiru!” Toushirou spat once more.
Kusajishi Yachiru, third princess of England, glared back at her older half-brother, shocking him by leaping off Kenpachi’s shoulders and effortlessly landing on the ground.
“I hate you, Shirou-oniisama,” Yachiru said, shooting Toushirou the same dangerous look he gave her earlier.
Toushirou groaned to himself. Yachiru was the princess who could shake the whole British empire to the ground by her antics. He didn’t even know where her traits came from. Perhaps from her mother?
The two children didn’t have the same mother. Toushirou knew that his mother was an Austrian princess who died right after giving birth to him. Yachiru’s mother was another mystery. His father came home one night, after one of his many travels to the other colonies of England, with a child cradled in his arms.
“Father wants to see you,” Toushirou said. “You’re giving me trouble Yachiru. I’ve been looking for you for hours now.”
“I was practicing with Ken-chan,” Yachiru said gaily.
Toushirou’s eyes widened at this. I shall never know what possessed Zaraki Kenpachi to be patient with ANYONE, let alone a child.
“Why did Daddy call me?” his younger sister asked, bouncing merrily beside him as they walked.
“I think he wants to give you something,” he answered.
“CANDY?!” Yachiru asked with a squeal. After a few seconds, she suddenly pouted. “Daddy always gives you candy. He says that it’s bad for me to have too much. But you have teeth too!”
Toushirou frowned as he recalled his overzealous father giving him chocolates and candies every time he saw his son. He watched his younger sister race up the long corridors as Kenpachi went in his own merry way. The white-haired boy briefly thought how relieved the man may be that Yachiru was off his hands, or shoulders, this time.
The two finally entered a finely-decorated room with walls of beautifully crafted stone and wood. At the center of the room, sat their father, Ukitake Jyuushirou.
“Father,” Toushirou said, bowing.
“DADDY!” Yachiru squealed, running to their father’s outstretched arms.
Prince Ukitake smiled, observing her son and daughter. Toushirou, the uptight genius and Yachiru, the naughty prankster.
“I’m glad you’re both here,” Ukitake said, putting his pink-haired daughter on his lap. “Yachiru, you’re always giving your brother a hard time looking for you.”
“Because I don’t want to be with him,” Yachiru said, sticking out her tongue at Toushirou. “He’s no fun.”
A nerve ticked in Toushirou’s forehead as he suppressed sending death glares at his little sister. Instead, he just looked at his smiling father, a man said by many to be the kindest and gentlest son of the King of England.
Ukitake coughed a little as he spoke, “You should learn to enjoy your youth Toushirou. Being swallowed by books will not do you much good in real life.”
“A prince has no time to play,” Toushirou proclaimed. “I want to be the best in my duties.”
Ukitake sighed and merely smiled. The boy exceeded every expectation given to him. What he lacked was the capacity of being social and in control of his temperament.
“This is why your hair is white, Shirou-oniisama,” Yachiru commented. “You’ve already gone so old because you’re no fun.”
Their father laughed aloud at this, making Yachiru laugh along and Toushirou controlling the verge of murder creeping within him.
“On to my business with you two,” Ukitake said, suppressing his laughter when he noticed the contortion of his handsome son’s face. “Your cousin is coming home.”
“Grimmjow-oniisama?” Yachiru asked, smiling slightly.
Toushirou frowned. Not that man. He should just prance around in his country than to come back here.
“No,” Ukitake said. “Your cousin, Kurosaki Ichigo.”
The white-haired boy stared critically at his father. Kurosaki Ichigo, the son of the late first princess of England. Toushirou had seen his cousin before, but only for a brief moment, as he and his family was at odds with the British nobility and the king, the princess having married a colonial.
Yachiru, who was still very young at that time, did not know who this cousin was. She just frowned in wonder, staring up at her father.
“Your grandfather sent him back home,” he added.
“I thought grandfather already cut ties with them,” Toushirou said.
Ukitake chuckled. “Of course not. He just,” he paused, pondering on the term, “let them be in Japan.”
A white eyebrow rose from the young boy’s face. “Then why is he asked to return?”
“He shall claim his rightful place in the royal family,” Ukitake said. “You know that the king will choose the heir from his grandchildren, and not his own children.”
“Yes, I am aware,” Toushirou said. “So, this Ichigo will become the heir?”
“If the line of succession holds, then yes, he will become the heir,” Ukitake answered. “And he has already agreed to the terms the king has placed.”
“What terms?”
“That he can claim his position if he married a pureblood noblewoman.”
“But father,” Toushirou said. “How can one find such a thing in Japan?”
“Apparently, he has already found one and has already married the unknowing woman,” Ukitake said, chuckling. “And he is on his way right now to seek audience with the king. And also, to consummate their marriage.”
Toushirou briefly reddened at this very direct answer from their father, but suppressed the nasty red away quickly.
“Who did he marry?”
“Apparently the long lost of daughter of the Inoues.”
“The Inoues?!” Toushirou said with a gasp. Everyone knew that the Inoue family was once the ruling house of England, but were deposed after their own family took over. They were given titles in exchange, but their riches were still vast, earning them the second biggest estate in the land (next to the royal family’s of course), which was Brooklyn. When the last Inoue generation died in a freak accident in Japan years ago, no one knew what had become of the fortune. A few rumors suggested that it was in the hands of the Inoue duchess’ younger sister, Matsumoto Rangiku – another pure noblewoman who had visited Japan.
This woman that their cousin had married was historically a princess as well, with blood lines so thick of foreign and local royalty that it can contend with the current royal family.
“I thought they were already dead,” Toushirou said, voicing out his thoughts.
“The girl is the sole survivor,” Ukitake said. “According to the reports of the messenger the king has sent to gather information, she had been hiding away in the slums of Japan.”
“To avoid something?” Toushirou asked. Why would a girl who was born in nobility mingle with poor colonials?
“Who knows? Let’s just find out when she presents herself to us, eh?” Ukitake said with a brief laugh. “We will be very busy when your cousin arrives.”
“How busy?” Yachiru asked, frowning. “I want to have fun.”
“Don’t you want to meet another onii-sama?”
Yachiru’s cute face broke into a grin. “Of course I do! Ichi-niisama!” she said with jovial laughter. She jumped off her father’s laugh and sped away from the room, apparently up to no good again.
Toushirou shook his head in disdain. “I heard Grimmjow’s wedding is coming soon too.”
“Yes,” Ukitake said. “Poor whelp. I know that Grimmjow has suddenly rushed into marriage to snatch the throne from Ichigo.”
Toushirou nodded in agreement. “Things are going to be chaotic from now on, right father?”
The white-haired older man smiled wryly at the sharp observation of his son. “Yes, my son. Indeed.”
Orihime slowly opened her eyes, feeling the weight of her body crash down on to her with sickening force. A piercing pain shot near her throat and her whole being ached all over. The darkness that welcomed her sight and the moonlight that poured through the window of the cabin indicated that the day has long passed.
She swiveled her head slightly to the right, staring at the yellow light illuminating the darkness.
What happened?
She remembered. A sea of blood. Heads being cut off by a man with wild ebony eyes that were unseeing. The desire to kill… the possessiveness and murder in those eyes.
How could she forget?
She shuddered, suddenly feeling very cold. Squeezing her eyes to blot out the gory visions, she willed herself to calm down.
Kurosaki-sama…
Orihime sat up slowly, wincing at the brief pain shooting up her neck.
She remembered something she had witnessed. When her husband was still his normal self…
A groan startled her from her thoughts. She looked at the source and was surprised that a head with orange locks lay at the left side of the bed. It slowly moved, eventually sitting up ramrod straight.
Kurosaki Ichigo stared at the surprised woman before her. He breathed a sigh of relief that she was now awake. The paleness of her face had already decreased. His eyes briefly lingered on the spot of blood that seeped through the bandage on her neck.
“Do you want anything to eat?” he asked, standing up and just ignoring her startled gaze.
“N-no,” she said, her voice hoarse.
A grumbling sound pierced the silent air that hung between them.
Ichigo whirled around in surprise. The young woman was blushing to the roots of her auburn hair.
“Uh… I might be, a little hungry…” she said apologetically, blushing more at the intensity of his gaze.
“I’ll send for some food,” Ichigo said, turning to leave.
Before he stepped out completely, he heard her say, in a voice that barely reached his own ears, “Thank you for saving my life.”
Ichigo felt unsure as he walked away. Do I truly deserve to be thanked?
He continued to walk to the kitchen of the ship, walking towards the deck in the process. He hastened to his task, briefly wondering why he felt the need to go and relieve whatever suffering his wife had. Her hunger, her pain… he wanted it to go away.
Guilt?
He looked down on his hands and recalled all those pirates whose life was snuffed out of them because of his possessive wrath.
As he walked back to their cabin, he spotted a small figure in white, looking out into the sea. Jet black hair whipped around her head as the cold breeze playfully danced with the strands. Her petite figure did not seem to be bothered at all by the chilling air. She did not seem to be bothered that hours ago, she had been on the brink of death.
“Rukia,” he called out, approaching the small figure. “What are you doing out here?”
“Don’t worry about me Ichigo,” she said, still looking out into the sea. “Doctor Unohana does great wonders with the human body. And I can handle it.”
Ichigo frowned. The hole bored through her by the sword was something no ordinary human could have handled. Let alone a small young woman like her.
But then again, this was Rukia they were talking about.
“Is Inoue-sama alright?” Rukia asked. “I’ve heard what happened to her.”
“She’s awake,” Ichigo replied. “I got her some food.”
Rukia laughed briefly, laying her dark purple eyes on Ichigo’s face. She was shocked at what she saw – Ichigo’s eyes were gentle, and his usually frowning features were relaxed in a small smile.
“She’s going to be alright,” he continued, meeting Rukia’s surprised gaze.
“I see,” Rukia said, feeling a brief hurt surge through her. She looked out into the open ocean again, thinking about the feeling and wondering if she was the one Ichigo was married to right now. The one he should be tending to at this very moment…
“You should go back to your room, Rukia,” Ichigo said gently, observing the way the moonlight danced on Rukia’s face. “It’s chilling out here.”
And your clothing is not suitable to the environment, he thought, shaking his head mentally.
“Ichigo,” she suddenly spoke out, touching his arm briefly before pulling away. The way she said his name and the touch made him pause, time standing still in that brief moment of contact.
He stared at her, waiting for a continuation.
“I’m sorry,” Rukia said, her sight colliding with the warmest brown.
“I’ve already forgiven you Rukia,” Ichigo said. “Rather, there isn’t anything to be forgiven about. I was the one who harmed you.”
“But still,” Rukia said. “What we are right now…”
Ichigo didn’t say anything, merely staring down at the food in his hands, food that was slowly turning cold.
“I should go,” he said. “I still have to – ”
“Yes, yes of course,” Rukia said hastily, turning away. “Go.”
Ichigo stared at her, nodding reluctantly before leaving. Rukia turned back to the sight before her, remembering the way the water sounded in the pouring rain the day she left him.
I will not lose you, Ichigo.
When her husband came back, Orihime knew something was off. Somehow, he looked unfocused, as if he was thinking very briefly. He did not speak as he watched her eat. She knew that something must have happened. One does not take that long to get some food.
She had a feeling that she knew what his worries might be directed at.
Or rather, who.
“My lord, if you permit me, I want to ask a question,” she said reluctantly, eyeing the small amount of soup left for her to sip.
His eyes suddenly went attentive from the detached expression he was wearing a few seconds ago. He nodded slightly, indicating her to go on.
“Do – I mean, well, what,” she said, breathing in slightly, picking her words carefully, “I was wondering, you and Kuchiki-san seem to be really close.”
Ichigo’s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean?” he asked, feeling a bit doubtful of what she was about to ask him.
“It’s perfectly fine though,” she said, suddenly laughing, her eyes slightly out of their original seriousness. “I mean, I have no right to ask of your personal relationships. I’m sorry if I asked.”
Ichigo stared at her. It was clear from her actions and words that she had already realized. He sighed as a feeling of sadness suddenly swept over him.
“I apologize if I haven’t told you before,” he said.
He was stopped from his actions when Orihime sent her a small, sad smile. A smile that didn’t seem to fit her lovely features.
“You love her, don’t you?”
Pause.
Breathe.
Ichigo looked at her, feeling the scrutiny from her gray, gray eyes. He could never lie to those eyes.
“Yes,” he answered. “I love her.”
She nodded slowly. “I realized when I saw you earlier today. When she was wounded. So, I thought I should help you.”
“What?” Ichigo said, stunned.
“It is my duty to protect you and care for you. As your wife, I cannot just stand and leave the situation,” Orihime said, her eyes speaking volumes – honesty and sincerity.
“You – ” he stammered. “I was not the one who was injured.”
She nodded, strands of beautiful auburn hair covering her eyes from his sight. “That is why I tried to protect Kuchiki-san. Because from what I saw, even though you were not the one injured, you were hurting.”
Seconds passed as silence hung over the two of them. Ichigo did not know what to say, did not know how to return this selfless kindness that his wife always showed him. After all that he did, after all that he said… after he took away her freedom, her right to freely love who she truly loved, her purity… her everything, she still stood by him.
For duty…
And out of her sincere and kind, kind heart.
“It truly is great,” she continued, staring outside the window, the moonlight bathing her whole being. She looked like an ethereal vision in Ichigo’s sight – someone so out of reach. “Falling in love. You should not give up on those feelings.”
Ichigo stared at her surprise, for the umpteenth time in the short span they started truly talking.
“Your heart is born each and every time you love,” Orihime continued. “Imagine, the feeling of life… of being born. All your sadness and worries taken away by that person. It is the only thing you can think of… the only thing you can live for.”
“So hold on to it,” she added. “And protect her… protect her with all your strength.”
She gave him that look again. That small, sad smile. Those beautiful gray eyes speaking compassion and wisdom.
For the first time in years, he forgot his woes. He felt peace.
Done… 😀
Hope you liked it.
Please leave a review! 😀
Chapter 12: Chapter 12
I am so happy. I have just finished plotting out the future chapters of Your Fading Starlight up to the climax, and I have to say, it left me breathless. Really, I was blown away myself. But enough of that. I don’t want to give you guys any spoilers. But here’s one sure thing, you’ll all be SO surprised. =)
I think this will be a pretty sad chapter. Personally, my life hasn’t been going well. Let’s just say I’m nursing a broken heart right now. Other than what I did with YFS, it has led me to a conclusion that I write best whenever I’m depressed. Which would be a good thing to all my readers and a bad thing for me.
Anyway, here comes Chapter 12.
Chapter 12
Burnt Parchment
What is death?
Whatever your belief is, it has a different concept of death. If you believe in God, then you believe in life after death. You believe that death is merely a transition to a more beautiful life. If this is so, then you should not fear death. You should, in fact, welcome it more. If you’re afraid, then there is one reason for this.
You are then ascertained to go to hell.
Then I shall rather reign in hell, than serve in heaven.
“She has always been in your mind,” she uttered, smiling and searching the stormy eyes of the regal man in front of him.
“Who has given you the right to speak to me that way, Emuri?” he responded coldly.
“Emuri, Emuri…” she repeated. “Why do you keep calling me Emuri?”
“Enemy… Emuri,” she continued, “Do you think that’s the same thing? It sounds the same, but it isn’t the same. Just like the love you have for your country, as you justify it to the love you have for her.”
He ignored, eyeing the pieces of paper laid out before him.
“Do you know that you will fail if she keeps on living?” she asked. “Do you want me to kill her?”
She did not have time to continue. Strong hands constricted around her neck, briefly stopping the blood rushing to her face – the air that gave her body life.
“F-fool,” she said, gasping. “You know I can’t kill her. She’s not here.”
His grip loosened. She adjusted her collar, feeling the remnants of the pendant that dug deep into her skin fall away. She didn’t mind the pain. She minded the man in front of him.
“And I thought you were a man devoid of any emotions.”
He ignored her, once again. Like always. Like many, many times.
“LOOK AT ME!” she yelled. She tugged at her hair like a madwoman. “Aren’t I… aren’t I… who you were promised to? Who you are promised to?!”
Gasping, she went on, “Why do you always… constantly pursue her? Why? Why? You would be damned, you fool!”
“Do you think I still care?” he answered back. “After I obtained you for myself? After I sold my soul to the devil? After I made a pact to seal my victory?”
She laughed, a loud, high-pitched laugh that made his hairs stand up at his nape. She was mad. She had been mad. For many, many years now. Ever since she found out.
“That boy,” she whispered, her laughter subsiding. “That boy named Kurosaki Ichigo.”
“What about him?” he asked.
“You want to kill him?”
“After we obtain our goals.”
“Yes, that boy… he must go down. Go down with everything precious to him. Go down with her… with that traitor!” Laughter. Once again she laughed.
She walked towards him, step by step, peeling her clothing away. She eyed him with lust – unabashed lust which sickened him.
She was once so beautiful. She was once the object of his desires, of his affections. She was pure and sweet, kind and soft-spoken. Unfortunately, something happened which changed the way he looked at her.
She happened.
“Why don’t you tell your love that I’m still alive?” she said, reaching up around his neck. “Why don’t you? Tell her, I’m still here. She’ll be so happy.”
“She won’t be happy when you’re here,” he replied, his face as cold as ice.
“Then if you don’t do something,” she said, pressing her bare breasts against his clothed chest, “I will introduce myself to her. Won’t that be amusing?”
He must be confused, Orihime thought, looking worriedly at her husband.
Nights ago, when she had given him the consent to love Rukia despite their marriage, Ichigo had been a detached. She recalled him smiling for a bit after their last talk, but it was done after that. Days after, there was no expression evident on his face. Not even his usual frown.
“My lord,” she spoke, approaching him as he sat at the edge of their bed.
It was nighttime and it had been tiring since they had encountered a mild storm hours earlier. This was a night without any stars, and Orihime liked it. At least, there was nothing to distract her. To mock her.
They would have dinner later, and the man before him seemed to be in no good shape to eat.
He looked up at her, and his eyes were unsettling. They were blank, as if he was carefully concealing whatever emotion or thoughts were running through inside of him.
“Please tell me what is bothering you,” she continued, mustering all of her strength to try to reach out to him – to understand him more.
Contact creates bridges, as bridges secure us that we are not alone in this world.
Ichigo stared at her innocent eyes, unsure of what to say.
“Kurosaki-sama,” Kensei said, approaching the orange-haired young man as he went out to the deck for a midnight stroll.
“What is it?” Ichigo asked, his small smile suddenly fading at the seriousness of the man.
“Shinji-san and I have decided to interrogate some of the surviving pirates during the attack,” Kensei said.
“Why would you do that?” Ichigo asked in disbelief. “Pirates are murderers and thieves. You don’t expect to find any interior motive, do you?”
“But that is exactly what we have found.”
Ichigo’s eyes widened. W-who?! It can’t be…
“It was startling that the pirates didn’t even give us a real fight. Except maybe the huge and dumb one who nearly killed Kuchiki Rukia and Lady Orihime,” Kensei explained. “It was like they were not trying to kill us at all. And it was as if they were searching something?”
“Searching something?”
“That’s right… or rather, someone.”
A wave of fear washed over Ichigo. “Don’t tell me…”
“They’re after your lady,” Kensei confirmed. “The pirates have informed us that there was a huge bounty placed on Orihime-sama’s capture. A sudden advertisement of 5,000,000 gold pieces to the band of pirates who could capture her – a mysterious announcement that appeared in the Islas de Ladrones(A/N: Island of the Thieves, where pirates often dwell about to find out latest loot.) days ago.”
“You do not know anything about this?” Ichigo asked suspiciously.
“Tch,” Kensei said, raising an eyebrow. “I knew you would ask that. Such a mistrusting man.”
“You expect me to trust anyone after everything I’ve been through?!” Ichigo yelled, holding Kensei’s collar in a death grip.
“Do not worry, Your Highness,” Kensei spat. “The whole English empire is in doubt of you as well. A half-breed as the first in line to the throne? You must be kidding me.”
“A half-breed that will change the world. Don’t worry, Muguruma Kensei. I will make you bow in respect,” Ichigo said through gritted teeth, releasing his hold of Kensei.
“Good,” Kensei said, grinning in a twisted way. “Then you must know that we have no intentions, nor ideas, about all of this. If we wanted to capture her ladyship, we could have done so. We could have thrown this ship into mutiny against you. But we didn’t.”
Ichigo looked into Kensei’s eyes, trying to discern if he was telling the truth.
“You might take Doctor Unohana’s word if you don’t believe us,” Kensei said, waving his hand as he turned around to leave. “She was the one who forced the pirates to confess.”
Ichigo gulped, wondering what methods the were-doctor did to the pirate.
“Alright,” Ichigo called out. “I believe you.”
“Good,” Kensei said again, this time deliberately trying to annoy Ichigo. “Then rest assured, we will help you protect your lady until you get to England to claim that birthright. Who knows, you might be the most deserving for that crown.”
“I – ” he said, considering whether or not he should say the truth. But something stopped him. Something prevented him from telling that pure soul that she was in danger.
I will definitely protect her.
“No,” he said, forcing a smile. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Is this about that night?” she asked, not believing what he had just said.
Ichigo’s eyes widened. Had she heard?
“I meant what I said about Kuchiki-san,” she continued. “I have the same burden of guilt when I… and – Ulquiorra-sama, well, when you saw us… kissing.”
Something stirred inside of Ichigo. But he ignored it, letting the auburn-haired woman before him continue.
“So, I have no right to be angry,” Orihime added, smiling. “So, if that is what’s troubling you, please, put your mind at ease. One cannot dictate the desires of the heart. And I do not want to be the one to steal your happiness away.”
I, Ichigo thought, definitely cannot let this woman get hurt. By them. By anyone.
Not only Rukia…
“Never forget that the moment we were married, we made a vow,” she said, laying a hand on his, the softness of her palm enveloping his rough and closed fist. “And with that, I will always stay by your side. Until death do us part, ne?”
“Why do you take a marriage for convenience so seriously?” Ichigo blurted out, when suddenly the door burst open.
“Ichi – !”
It was Rukia.
“Grimmjow-sama,” Nell whispered breathlessly as a shock of blue hair clouded her vision, letting her feel the heat that was exploding with her with each strong and wild thrust.
“Scream my name, wench,” Grimmjow growled into her breasts, biting at her right nipple as he pounded within her.
Nell could feel tears flowing down her silver eyes. This was not the wedding night she had expected. She had always envisioned Grimmjow as a rough man, but not this uncaring. Not this… violent.
His lips did not even touch hers the entire time she was pinned under him. He did not even look into her eyes. He just listened to her gasps. He just smirked at her flushed face. He just took and took, he never gave.
Upon entering their room, Nell found herself gagged and her hands tied to her back. As her new husband removed his clothing, he tore off hers, mercilessly clawing at every inch of flesh his hands could hold on to.
He would whisper lustful praises and command her to yell his name more and more, until she was hoarse.
She was treated like a plaything.
He kneaded her breasts, nipped at the skin of her neck, toyed with her hardened nipples… he would pump his long fingers long and hard into her hot, waiting core, and she would accept, even through groans of pain. She knew that she needed to stop these dirty actions and that she sounded like a desperate whore, but she couldn’t.
She just loved him so much.
And she didn’t even know if she wanted this, or if she did not.
Her moral side begged for salvation, but her wanton side did not want anything more than this pleasure racking her body. Even though he mercilessly entered her the first time, without any restraint or preparation, tearing her insides in excruciating pain, she welcomed and resigned to her fate. Even though she already came over and over again to the point of madness, she welcomed her fate. Because she loved this crazed man.
Always have and always will love him.
“Grimmjow-sama,” she gasped, as he entered her with his length fully, shuddering above her as he suddenly pulled out, not giving her the delight of coming inside of her.
More tears spilled from her eyes. “Why?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I can’t have you pregnant yet, can I?” he said with a smirk. “I have other things to use my seed on.”
Nell’s eyes widened, shocked at hearing this. She wanted to sit up, but she couldn’t move. Her aching and exhausted body wouldn’t allow her to go any further, to move any further.
“Y-you,” she said, but was stopped by his sapphire gaze.
“You should just be an obedient wife and watch,” Grimmjow snarled, grinning. “Watch as I bring the world to its knees… and Kurosaki Ichigo to his knees.”
Nell wondered – wondered why her beloved husband was so obsessed with this man named Kurosaki Ichigo. She wondered when his madness would end, when he would finally look at her as a woman and treat her right.
Because of this Kurosaki Ichigo, she thought, feeling a deep coursing jealousy and hatred within her.
It was never in Neliel tu Oderschvank’s nature to feel hatred, but right now, she felt loathing.
She would never own her husband until this Kurosaki Ichigo was eliminated.
She did not care if she became empress in his world. She wanted to rule Grimmjow’s heart. That was the most important thing to her.
Rukia stood still, her eyes taking in the sight before her.
Ichigo sat at the side of a bed with pristine white sheets, his head bent down. His hands were clasped together in one closed fist, and she could see the nerves jutting out of his fair skin. His eyes were looking at her in a surprised manner.
But what shocked Rukia was the gentleness those eyes seemed to possess.
And she came to a conclusion that it might be because of the woman who was kneeled in front of him.
Orihime was kneeling on the wooden floor, a hand gently placed on those clenched fists. Her eyes were flooding with concern and kindness. When Rukia burst in, she looked at her in mild surprise, then smiled.
Rukia did not know whether she want to hug the woman or scream bloody murder.
Damn you English nobles, Rukia cursed.
“What’s wrong, Kuchiki-san?” Orihime asked, standing up and walking towards her.
Rukia avoided her gaze and instead trained her eyes on Ichigo, who was waiting for an answer.
“I demand that you explain to me why it will take three weeks before I get an audience with the king,” the raven-haired woman said, her deep purple eyes spitting fires of anger and impatience.
Ichigo frowned in confusion. “I do not know of that matter,” he replied. “And why are you asking me? Do I seem like a government official to you?”
Rukia rolled her eyes. “You’re their prince, for God’s sake! You should know, since your father was the one who insisted that I come along this trip!”
“My father?”
“Yes!” she half-yelled. “He was the one who sought an audience with the king for me, so that we can talk about the liberation of Japan.”
Knowing grandfather, I doubt you shall ever attain your goals, Rukia, Ichigo thought sadly, but did not voice this thought out. Rukia has always been a passionate person when it comes to getting what she wanted. She has always been the type to be sure of herself, and not getting any personal conflict get in the way of her decisions.
At least, that was the case before she met him.
“I’m sorry,” Ichigo said. “But I really do not know what you’re talking about. What my father discussed with does not include me. And he has never told me anythingabout the liberation of Japan and your plans. You must know that I was shocked that you were coming along this trip in the first place.”
Rukia flushed a faint pink, before glaring at Ichigo.
Ichigo would have laughed at the way she was being childishly mad at him, but he refrained from doing so.
“Ishida-san said,” Rukia started, “that one with high social status in Britain can adjust the date to any appointment with the king.”
“Yes,” Ichigo said. “You must contact a direct member of the royal family.”
Rukia stared at him pointedly.
Ichigo crossed his arms in front of him in defense. “No, absolutely not!” he said, surprised at the notion she was thinking of.
“You’re his damned grandson!” Rukia said loudly. “You can at least get me an audience with him within the week. I can’t afford to stay in that place for a month!”
“Then you have to wait patiently!” Ichigo retorted. “I am not an official prince yet. Yes, I am a prince by birth, but my birth right and claims to the throne were put on hold until I marry – ”
He stopped himself, considering Orihime’s presence in the room. Yes, she already knew, but there was no point in pressing what has happened further.
Rukia glared at Ichigo, noticing the sudden stop he made in his sentence. Why?
“So what do you propose I do, Ichigo?” Rukia asked, ignoring what she had seen. “Wait for three weeks until your king finds time to talk to me?”
“Yes,” Ichigo responded with regret. “You are his subject the moment England took over Japan. You must wait.”
“Wait?!” Rukia fumed. “Subject?! Who ever said that the Japanese belonged to anyone? You come barging in our land, seizing our freedom and our rights! You have no right to tell the free people what they want to do.”
“Stop being so idealistic Rukia,” Ichigo said, frowning at her in worry. This willful woman would always be like this when it comes to matters of her state. She would never let anything else get in the way. “You will have your freedom. Just be patient, and the chance will come to you.”
Rukia chuckled sarcastically, “Now I’m taking patience lessons from a man who does not know the meaning of patience!”
The sentence was loaded and dripping with meaning that Ichigo was taken aback, not sure if the postponement of the appointment was what really caused Rukia’s anger. It seemed, by what she said, that she was referring to something else entirely.
Patience to wait for you? Ichigo thought, scowling. I thought I was the one who drove you away, Rukia. That I was at fault and that you never wanted to see me again. Now you want me to wait? After all I did to you and after you left me?
“I’m confused,” he said with gritted teeth, his voice barely heard.
“Do you think I can do it, my lord?” Orihime asked suddenly.
“What?” Ichigo and Rukia said in unison.
“Well,” Orihime started, blushing slightly, “My title and birth right are not put on hold. Even though Kurosaki-sama isn’t an official prince yet, my title as a duchess holds high enough to request an audience with the king.”
Rukia eyed Orihime critically. Surely she’s not saying that I ask help from her?
Ichigo’s expression turned a bit elated that this problem has formed a solution. “Yes,” he said, “Orihime has a point. She can indeed ask for audience with the king, for you.”
“What good does the title of duchess have?” Rukia asked suspiciously. “She’s not even a direct descendant of your family.”
“Yes,” Ichigo agreed. “But I think you do not know that her family was once the royal family of England.”
“Deposed, yes,” Orihime added. “But it’s perfectly alright. We were given high ranks by His Majesty, and are given almost the same privileges as the royal family itself.”
“To avoid any more conflicts in the future, I think,” Ichigo said in agreement.
Ichigo, Rukia thought, you seriously think that I am going to ask help from your wife?
“Well then,” Orihime said cheerfully. “At least I have something to do upon arriving.”
Rukia said nothing and merely nodded. “I have to take my leave,” she mumbled. “Sorry for the intrusion.”
She left Ichigo and Orihime alone in their room. Ichigo was a bit relieved that the problem with Rukia has been solved already. He didn’t want to further antagonize his grandfather, even though he wanted so badly to help her. He could have tried, yes, but seeing as Orihime was more than willing to use her title to help Rukia, he was glad.
Orihime was the type of person to help everyone in need, even if that said person is the woman her own husband is in love with.
He sighed. Your kindness will be your downfall, he thought wryly.
But he never wanted her to fall in any way. And he didn’t know why.
Rukia walked towards the deck, feeling her insides fuming with things she did not even dare think about. She was feeling a mixture of negative emotions that were not healthy, at least not for someone like her.
She felt sadness, anger, hopelessness, regret… pain and jealousy.
She had never wanted to let him go in the first place. But seeing him now, married to another woman. Seeing him with an attitude she had never seen him show before – a warmth and compassion to a person whom he didn’t feel any sort of attachment to, gave Rukia a feeling that she was losing him.
She wanted to gag.
“Rukia,” Yoruichi said, looking at her with a searching gaze.
“Yes?” the shorter girl said, composing herself.
“What did Kurosaki say?”
“His wife offered to help us,” Rukia answered flatly.
Yoruichi’s left eyebrow rose, “She did? Why her?”
“Apparently Ichigo hasn’t attained the status of a real prince yet. You know the contract,” Rukia said hurriedly. “She is the one with the higher rank, as of now.”
Yoruichi chuckled amusedly. “That woman helped?”
“Yes.”
“I always thought she was too kind for her own good,” Yoruichi added. “You fear that Kurosaki might be falling in love with her?”
Rukia’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop. What was this woman saying?! Of course Ichigo won’t fall in love with someone whom he just met. Someone he did not feel any attachment to.
“I know you still love him, Kuchiki Rukia,” Yoruichi said, shaking her head. “There’s no use in denying it.”
Purple collided with amber as the two women assessed each other.
“You just have to learn what you want, and learn to fight for it,” Yoruichi commented in finality, leaving the girl in stunned silence.
Ulquiorra Schiffer closed his eyes in disdain, holding the piece of parchment to the fire. The smell of burning paper and ink filled his nostrils, sending his mind into overdrive.
Another letter burned, he thought. He leaned back on his wooden chair and stared outside the window, feeling the sea roll down beneath the floor.
Fourth letter I’ve written to respond.
Not working.
He looked over at the long letter written to him, thinking of ways how to respond to it. He had received the letter days ago, an hour before their ship had departed for England. Still, he hadn’t replied to it, and the sender must be very impatient.
The idea of messenger birds astounds me.
He looked at the hawk perched in its cage, making no sound at all and only staring at its pale master.
He always was at a loss for words whenever this particular person wrote to him. It was as if a demand for a high quality answer was always in order. One ounce of failure and doubt, then he was gone.
Ulquiorra massaged the bridge of his nose.
There was another thought troubling him.
He didn’t know why he was disappointed that Ichigo just didn’t give up on his marriage and settled with the Japanese noblewoman. He knew that Ichigo was a man of responsibility, but he always put his heart first in every decision. That was his downfall, his heart. But this time, he did not listen to it, and instead focused on what needs to be done – to attain that crown and stay married to his beautiful wife.
Does he love her now? Does he desire her?
Ulquiorra would never know.
But as he watched the interactions that played between Ichigo and his wife every day in this voyage, there was something about his orange-haired friend that changed. It was as if he was always gentle around the woman, always considerate of her safety. It was as if she was a precious gem that should never be scratched.
And Ulquiorra knew that Kuchiki Rukia was also starting to notice this.
The raven-haired Japanese frowned a little too deeply whenever she talks or looks at Orihime. Ulquiorra would notice himself watchful of the petite woman as she might try to do something funny towards Orihime.
And he never understood why he felt that way.
A knock came from the door.
Ulquiorra’s face turned into a solid mask of ice again before opening.
It was Orihime.
“Dinner is already served,” she said, her voice tinkling like precious silverware in the silence of the night.
“Don’t you have servants here to call on the guests for any meal?” Ulquiorra asked, stepping outside and closing the door behind him.
“Oh,” Orihime said, smiling. “Why call on someone to do it when you can just take action on your own?”
Ulquiorra nodded in concession, ignoring the sudden fragrance of flowers being emitted by the attractive woman in front of him.
Control.
“Why do you stick to him?” Ulquiorra suddenly asked.
Orihime turned around in surprise at this question, her gray eyes searching those cold emerald depths. That question was uncalled for, and she didn’t know what to answer. She knew that him referred to Ichigo.
“I – ” she started, “I am married to him, that’s why.”
“Is that reason enough?”
“Yes,” she replied seriously. “You were bound by the heavens in holy matrimony. You cannot break that.”
“England’s King Henry VIII got a divorce from his wife, Catherine,” Ulquiorra reasoned out. “And since then, divorce is a very common thing to noblemen. The Church of England speaks well about it, for there is no need to continue in a marriage that is not of love.”
“And how would you know about love, sir?” Orihime asked kindly. “Have you ever loved?”
He didn’t answer and merely stared at her.
“It might be true that my marriage has no love in it. But it has compassion,” Orihime explained, as she started to walk ahead of him. “And while it is of convenience, I think I will not fail in making my spouse happy. Kurosaki-sama can do as he wishes, and I will be his dutiful wife. I was put into contract because of this and I shall hold my end of the bargain.”
“And how long do you think you can stand being business-like in all of this?” Ulquiorra asked. “I can see that you’re not the type to be cold and calculating in any situation.”
“I have my duties,” she replied softly. “And it is high time that I think like an adult and start doing what I have to do.”
“What do you intend to do?”
Orihime turned around and observed him through amused eyes. “I have never heard you talk so much like this. It’s refreshing, especially that you just talked about love and marriage.”
Before Ulquiorra could reply, Orihime had entered the dining area.
What could he be thinking, saying things like that? Orihime thought, not knowing what to think about the conversation she had with Ulquiorra hours ago.
She was standing near the railing of the ship, not minding that it was hours since the whole world had gone to sleep and that she was still wide awake. The cold did not bother her. She did not shiver. She didn’t feel anything. It was like she was floating to nothingness, seeing the black void that the ocean gave made her wonder what it felt like to sink in deep.
She felt like wretched creature. She didn’t know if she allowed Ichigo to continue his love for Kuchiki Rukia out of guilt – guilt because she still cannot let go of her own feelings towards Ulquiorra. Given, Ichigo’s love was longer, way, way longer, than hers would ever be, but she didn’t mind. It does not taint the extent of love. But to assuage her guilt by letting her husband do as he wishes, she was not sure.
But what she did know was that she cared for Kurosaki Ichigo. Cared enough to make that reckless decision. She could not just look the other way whenever she sees people getting hurt. And unconsciously, Ichigo and Rukia were hurting because she stood in the way.
I think you’re that type of human who constantly takes in everything thrown to you, not caring how other people around you think of this. Not thinking how they’re hurt by every decision you make as long as you think you have taken in part of their burden. Do not be arrogant Inoue Orihime, you can’t take care of all the wounds in this world. You can only alleviate. You can only work with others.
You can never do anything alone.
How can I be so perfectly useless? She asked, smiling weakly as she felt liquid pour down her cheeks.
And Ulquiorra-sama… I can’t ask him to love me. I’ll just look at him from afar, I think.
Or you might not look away long enough, another part of her voiced out.
Memories of a night of passion and pain shot across Orihime’s mind. Legs intertwined, mouths searing – all was heaven in that dimly lit room. Even though it was out of lust, and even though she was against it, she could not deny the thunder and lightning she felt when her husband’s body made love to her. Or had sex with her.
Although that man wasn’t really her husband.
She felt heat pool down between her thighs, and more tears overcame her as guilt racked her body more.
Arms suddenly wrapped around her, earning a surprised gasp from her. She started to struggle when a low voice said,
“Stop moving.”
“Ulquiorra-sama.”
I had to end it here. It wasn’t as sad as I expected it to be. But I think the real sadness comes in the next chapter. Hope you liked it though. This seemed to be a filler chapter. 😉
But this filler chapter is needed. Because it contains something really important. 😀
Chapter 13: Chapter 13
Yaho! A belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all of you! Hope you had fun on your holidays.
First of all, thanks to those who commented with the confusion between the he/she, his/her… I just type out all my ideas rapidly without double-checking that I don’t notice mistakes. I never re-read my work until necessary. Until I’m done with it. Also, part of it is because I have no Beta Reader. I work solo.. =)))
Anywhooo, here’s the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it. Read and Review! 😀
Chapter 13
In the Dark of the Night
“Ulquiorra-sama?” Orihime said in a trance.
It works, Ulquiorra thought, staring at the woman a few meters away from him. Her eyes were dazed as a heavy scent enveloped the air around her. She was glancing out at the other side of the deck.
He watched as she started to move – move to the other side of the ship, towards the railings.
What is this? This heavy feeling?
I… Ulquiorra-sama isn’t here. Where am I going?
But she couldn’t see anything. All she could see was that narrow light at the end of the black, black tunnel. She knew she needed to get there, but no matter how many steps she took, she was not getting closer to her destination.
The light was getting dimmer.
“N-no!” she tried to yell, but no sound came out of her mouth.
She knew that the light was her salvation. That somehow, from this nightmare, she would be awakened.
But how did I get inside a nightmare?
Ocean… the ocean. I was looking at the ocean.
Why did it suddenly feel so heavy? And why did I feel like Ulquiorra-sama held me… And how come I saw him?
Her mind was in a whirlwind of thought and unanswered questions. She couldn’t understand what was going on. The guilt and sadness she had felt had dissipated to something that felt like anxiety and fear. She did not know where she was. The floorboards of the ship were no more. Instead they were replaced by pitch black darkness. The stars, those things which she did not like before, were missing. For the first time, she was searching for the stars to tell her that she was still in the real world. Where, even though it was dangerous, was the safer and surer haven as of now.
She took five steps further.
Six…
Seven…
Eight…
Nine…
Orihime felt her breath stolen from her as she started falling. She suddenly felt the wind rushing to her face and the salty smell of the ocean hitting her skin with full force. Her unseeing eyes started to take in the moonlight reflecting the deep dark abyss below her.
The abyss that was the ocean.
I’m falling!
SPLASH!
Cold robbed Orihime of her ability to scream. The night air hovering over the oceans gripped her heart in stillness and the icy depths of the waters claimed her. The darkness that had claimed her mind before might now have been a safer choice. However, she knew that somehow, that caused her demise.
With everyone asleep, no one could possibly notice that she was already drowning.
I can’t swim!
When she had hit the waters, she froze at first. But the alarm that took over was astounding that she started to flail. She started to move about, trying her best to stay afloat. Her night dress swirled around her chilled body, holding her down with their weight. She opened her mouth to scream, the taste of the ocean suddenly pouring within her mouth. She gagged at the sudden intrusion and pushed herself upwards with all the strength and might she could muster.
In the depths of trouble, she could only see one face. One face of assurance, of protection…
Of…
Love…
“KUROSAKI-SAMA!” she yelled.
“KUROSAKI-SAMA!” her voice, resounding in Ulquiorra’s ear.
His eyes widened for a moment. Alarm brings people to drop their defenses, their civil manners, everything that their conscience dictates them. They cling to their instincts, their survival mechanisms. They ask for the people that their most primal needs need. Their most basic necessities come out in the times of dire need. There was no moment of hesitation, no moment to review what action you must take.
At this time of selfish need, that object you have attached yourself the most will be the first you will think about.
The young man felt shaken, but he held his ground and turned around. He walked away from where he was originally standing and headed back to his room.
Now you have what you’ve wished for, he thought.
But his legs suddenly froze before he could even open the door to his room.
He couldn’t do took over his mind. Because for some reason, he had wished that the dying woman could have called out to him, and not to any other person.
“KUROSAKI-SAMA!”
The scream brought Kuchiki Rukia in attention. She couldn’t sleep, and because of that, she had stayed up to read some books she had brought along the journey.
She knew who the owner of the voice was. She felt the terror and the alarm in the voice. She felt that powerful scream shake her senses.
She stood quickly to see what was going on. She opened the door and ran to the deck. But she stopped.
No one was there.
Only one thing could have possibly happened to make such a powerful, yet distant scream.
Ichigo’s wife had fallen overboard.
Ichigo’s wife, Rukia thought. Why am I trying to help this woman?
Because you are not such a cold blooded creature as to let someone die in front of you.
Even if that woman meant the end of her happiness… of her love.
“KUROSAKI-SAMA!”
Ichigo woke up in a start. Orihime?!
Fear washed all over his body. She wasn’t beside him. His hand shot out to feel the white sheets for sure.
The sheets were already cold as the air around him, which meant that Orihime had been away for long.
Have they come for her?! His mind yelled. But he had no luxury to think. He found himself rushing towards the surface of the ship.
The wind deafened his ears as he got the full blast of the cold night air. When he arrived, he found himself staring at Rukia who was at the opposite end of the deck.
“Where is she?!” he yelled frantically.
Rukia only looked back at him in surprise and alarm. Ichigo looked around, but there was no Orihime. No sign of her.
Dammit! Orihime, where are you?!
Without thinking further, he looked out at the oceans, fearing that what he might be thinking must have happened to her.
Without thinking, he jumped.
“ICHIGO!” Rukia screamed, watching in horror as Ichigo jumped into the sea.
She watched him resurface, feeling a surge of relief flow within her.
But now, their concern was that Orihime girl.
Kurosaki-sama, Orihime thought, feeling exhausted. Her arms were feeling like metal, and were giving in from beside her. She felt her knees buckle with pain and thought that she might have done something wrong with it while trying to swim frantically.
She kicked once last time. As her head surfaced, she quickly took in as much air as she can, then screamed,
“KURO – !”
She went down, with her mouth still gasping for air. She felt the seawater invade her mouth and the sudden invasion made her choke, but it was no more. There was no use struggling. She was already going down, and she could feel every fiber of her being folding under the bitter depths of the ocean.
Her arms floated above her in abandonment, as if still willing to reach out to someone. Orihime’s eyes were already stinging with pain, but she kept them wide open, a sign that she still had hope that someone had heard her… that someone would come for her.
In the midst of her troubles… someone would. Even though she did not deserve to be rescued because she brought herself to her own demise.
If only I had waken up sooner.
Who did this? Did I lose it? Lose my mind?
Slowly… slowly… her eyes grew heavy. All the seawater she had drank were putting a lot of pressure within her. She could only stare groggily at the muffled and muted tones of the sky, above the screen glass that was the water. The dark, dark sky…
She slept…
Ichigo’s body hit the unforgiving waters, but he could not bring himself to shudder, or even wince. He was thinking about her – his wife.
Dammit… where are you?!
Worry left a bitter taste in one’s mouth, and the thundering of his heartbeat did not ease the tension within him. He looked around, but saw nothing. He stared harder, trying to find a halo of auburn hair.
He knew she fell. But how?
Even his inner devil was stirring in worry. It knew that this woman had taken a part of his master that both of them were not willing to acknowledge… or even willing to recognize.
Not yet.
“KURO – !”
Ichigo’s head swirled to his side. For a fraction of a second, he saw a speck of auburn float from far from his left, but went swiftly down.
I won’t make it! He thought in alarm.
He swam as quickly as he can, powerful strokes carrying him to his uncertain destination. He could feel that the ocean’s current was against him, and even the slow and cool night wind was blowing against him. But it didn’t matter if the whole world turned against him. Right now, he had to save her.
When he finally reached the spot where her head appeared, Ichigo dived down, unmindful of the stinging protests of his eyes. He squinted in the dark abyss and then, there she was.
Pale and white. That’s what he could make out. Her dress swirled around her as she fell in slow motion, a few meters away from where he was. Her eyes were closing and he knew that she was already giving in.
NO!
He forced his body towards her, his ears starting to hurt as he reached out a hand to grasp to hers.
But she was sinking lower and lower…
NO!
With a powerful kick of his legs, he was there, holding her cold hand. He pulled her towards his body and clung to her limp figure.
Please be alright.
Rukia squinted wildly in the dark, looking for any signs of Ichigo, who went under just a few moments ago. She debated with herself, whether or not she should dive too and help. But there was something holding her back, and she didn’t like that feeling.
She knew that no one else had heard Orihime scream. The captain was in his chambers and sounds were a bit muffled in that place where he concentrated on stirring the ship. The others were sleeping. Somehow, this alarming moment should alert the people.
“What’s going on?!”
My thoughts exactly, Rukia thought dryly.
She turned to see a groggy Hirako Shinji and an alert Shihouin Yoruichi.
“That woman,” Rukia said, pausing to consider her words, “Ichigo’s wife. She… she fell.”
“Fell?” Yoruichi repeated.
“Fell where?” Shinji asked, confused.
Before Rukia could answer, a burst of water interrupted her. She turned back to the ocean and saw Ichigo swimming towards them.
In an instant, Shinji and Yoruichi were beside her.
“Kurosaki!” Shinji yelled in alarm. In haste, he quickly grabbed on to one of the safety boats attached to the sides of the ship, lowering it to where Ichigo was. Rukia, who was frozen for a moment, snapped out of her reverie and helped him, along with Yoruichi.
As soon as Ichigo pulled himself and Orihime to the boat, the three of them hoisted the two upward.
Ichigo cradled Orihime’s pale form in his hands, unaware of everything that was going on and whoever it was that saw him. He cupped her face and lowered his head.
Their lips touched and for a moment there, Ichigo felt something stir inside of him. He quickly ignored it and pumped in some air into Orihime’s mouth. He tried again. Again. Again.
Again…
Nothing.
“Orihime,” he said shakily. Her unresponsiveness led him to go blank with horror. He didn’t even notice that he was already being removed from the boat by Shinji’s strong grip.
But he couldn’t let go of her.
“Orihime!” he said, louder this time.
He pounded at her chest, trying to push out the water that invaded her body. He lowered his head again, giving her another supply of air.
Nothing.
“Orihime,” he gasped.
Nothing.
“ORIHIME!”
She was sinking. She knew that she was about to die. She knew that no one had heard her. It was impossible. At this hour, people were fast asleep.
Her eyes were already giving in, but another part of her kept a few centimeters open. As if they were still expecting to see someone to come.
And for a moment, there was…
Ichigo.
She could recognize that shock of orange hair anywhere. He was swimming towards her.
Is this real?
Or am I already dead?
Her eyes closed.
Her mind was claimed with darkness. She couldn’t feel anything. She could see nothing. The lack of perception alarmed her. She willed her body to move. But it did not. She could not feel her being, but it felt heavy.
It was like the feeling she had before she drowned. Up at the ship, where it was safe. When her mind suddenly went blank.
“Orihime,” she heard the darkness speak. At the same time, there was that damning light again, appearing at the edge of the tunnel. But this time, it wasn’t that far away, nor did it feel as hopeless as before.
“Orihime,” again it said, and this time, the voice was more familiar.
It belonged to someone she knew. That was something she was sure of.
“Orihime,” louder this time.
She felt wind gush against her, and she felt relieved, but she couldn’t get to where she wanted to. She still couldn’t feel.
“Orihime.” This time it was softer, as if pleading with her.
She knew this voice. It was his.
Pain suddenly shot from her center, as if starting to reject the water that invaded her chest.
More. Fight… I must fight.
She could feel her center now, it was heavy and painful. Her legs came next, then her arms… fingertips…
Her head… her heart…
She felt someone holding her… holding her to warmth.
The frantic pounding on her chest. The occasional warmth colliding with her cold lips.
Ichigo.
“ORIHIME!”
She coughed loudly, her eyes flying open at the sudden impact of air and water. She coughed and coughed until her throat ached, until all the things she had taken in were no more.
Then she saw a pair of brown eyes.
“Orihime,” Ichigo said, his eyes gentling in relief, a small smile gracing his usually serious face.
“Do you think it worked?” Fumiko asked, eyeing her husband warily. She was worried that nothing would ever come out of their consistent planning because the man before her seemed coolly objective about everything going on around them.
Aizen Sousuke returned the woman’s gaze, trying his best not to laugh at the woman’s stupidity. He was certain that the drug worked. What he was uncertain of was his step son’s loyalty.
“It’s up to Ulquiorra now,” he said, smiling slightly.
“That boy shouldn’t fail,” Fumiko grumbled, flicking a strand of jet black hair away from her heavily made-up face.
Yes, she was beautiful – in all ways women were beautiful. But there was something dangerous about that beauty. Its resurrection from the destroyed woman years ago was astounding, but the process of it hardened the woman within.
Sousuke had no complaints about this, since he needed her. He needed this woman to be the fulfillment of his dreams.
His dreams of becoming God.
God of the New World.
“If he fails,” Fumiko added, frowning deeply, “I shall make sure he will be punished.”
“No punishment, Fumiko,” Sousuke said. “How many times have I told you? Ulquiorra is a special person. He is our son.”
“Tch,” she said, looking at the light of the fireplace. “Each time I see those green eyes, I remember that man.”
Sousuke stood up until he was towering over Fumiko. The woman shivered at the frightening look in her husband’s eyes.
“I thought you vowed never think of another man but me,” Sousuke said, his right hand suddenly grabbing her chin.
Wincing at the pressure, Fumiko tried to return his gaze, but failed. She only lowered her eyes and said, “I apologize.”
Sousuke nodded and let go of her. Judging from the letters Ulquiorra had sent them, the Inoue woman seemed to be a very interesting character. “Disturbingly naïve,” he mumbled, quoting his step son’s exact words.
That naivety can work to my advantage.
He smirked as he brought himself down his seat and sipped a cup of tea. “If the drug does not completely kill her, then we would just have to try again.”
“Try again?” Fumiko repeated, disturbed. “We cannot afford mistakes, Sousuke-sama!”
“However, my dear, mistakes can also be our victory,” Sousuke said, his eyes glinting maliciously.
Kuchiki Rukia was dumbfounded by the scene before her. She watched as Ichigo was being hoisted upright by Hirako Shinji. He seemed unable to move and as he was brought to the safe floors of the ship, he was still clutching his wife’s still form like a child afraid of letting go of his mother. She could see the veins popping from his hands from the strength he was holding the auburn-haired woman.
His eyes were something Rukia could not recognize. They were wild and uncertain. They were shaken and doubtful. They were frightened and sad.
He kept on whispering her name.
Orihime. Orihime. Orihime.
It hurt Rukia’s ears. It hurt her mind, her heart… her everything.
Shut up.
Orihime.
Shut up.
That name… stop calling that name!
She watched helplessly as Ichigo struggled to bring life to his wife. His lips touched hers, while Rukia felt that sting again. He forced life to that limp body, and Rukia would feel pain again. His actions were going nowhere, it would seem, and Rukia watched as his eyes slipped to oblivion, as his voice screamed that name.
Then Kurosaki Orihime opened her mouth, coughing up the water she had taken in. She opened her gray eyes and looked into Ichigo’s brown ones. Something in Rukia died when she saw the way Ichigo look at Orihime.
Gentleness, relief, life… caring, miraculous… salvation… love.
Love?
Is he in love with her?
Rukia could no longer watch. She fled without an excuse, trying to get away from what seemed to be the end of her. But she knew she had no right to pursue, not when she pushed him away.
Ichigo didn’t know why, but the warm feeling suddenly swept over him when he saw those gray eyes. He couldn’t tear his own away from them, and he felt a wave of release wash over him – releasing all the worries and fears. He did not know why, but the sight of her limp and pale – unmoving and lifeless, far from that beautiful and lively creature that had suddenly interrupted the neutrality of his life, alarmed him. It was like he was being torn away from that constant source of comfort.
It was one of those feelings that he had felt when he had lost his mother.
But this had something deeper stirring inside of him.
But he could not tell if this was what they called love. If he loved her.
Because, that would be betraying his feelings towards Kuchiki Rukia.
“Orihime,” he suddenly uttered. This surprised him, but he quickly suppressed this.
“Ku – Kurosaki-sama,” she said, shivering at the sudden impact of cold on her skin.
He clearly noticed the way she shook because he stood up, taking her with him.
“You can go back to sleep,” he said absent-mindedly at the grinning Shinji and the frowning Yoruichi.
Come to think of it, Rukia was here. Where is she? He wondered. But he was interrupted in his thoughts when Orihime shuddered in his arms again.
“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I’ll get you away from this cold.”
Orihime blushed, and all the cold she had felt was disappearing rapidly. The warmth Kurosaki Ichigo was emitting was contagious. The feelings currently traversing her being was making her feel warmer.
What’s this? Orihime asked herself, looking away from Ichigo’s line of sight so that he would not see her blushing face.
She could feel that it was all happening so fast. As if she couldn’t determine anymore the confusion she was feeling. She was shaken by the fact that twice in this voyage, she had almost been killed, and Ichigo was the one to save her every time. Then there was Ulquiorra. She couldn’t tell what she felt for Ulquiorra or Ichigo. She knew what was to be done, but she was scared.
He could feel his own heart beating too fast. As if by some enormous mistake, this woman in his arms had an enormous effect on him. She could bring out his worst, his best and she wasn’t even doing much of an effort. She was just herself. Then there was Rukia. He couldn’t tell what she felt for Rukia or Orihime. He knew what was to be done, but he was scared.
But they both knew that they needed each other.
When they got back to their room, they were both silent. Both of them were unsure of what to say, what to ask. Seconds ticked by but none of them spoke. Ichigo remained standing, still carrying Orihime. The girl was the one to break the silence.
“Ku… Kurosaki-sama,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Can you please put me down?”
Ichigo snapped out of his trance and nodded, not trusting his own voice to speak. He put her down gently.
“Thank you,” she said.
Ichigo said nothing again, and merely turned, taking some sheets on the bed. He handed them over to Orihime, who was looking at him in wonderment. For a moment there, he felt unsure to meet her gaze, but when he did, a question floated from his lips.
“What happened out there?”
Orihime’s gaze went downward, trying to make something out of what happened. What exactly happened.
“I guess I was very clumsy,” she said, finding the best possible answer. Kurosaki Ichigo knew that she was the clumsy type of girl. This was the only answer she could think of because she didn’t know why she suddenly had dark tunnel vision and why she suddenly moved without her own volition. She couldn’t very well alarm him by saying she suddenly blacked out.
When she looked up, she saw that his eyes were confused and his eyebrows were in danger of disappearing under the locks of hair that fell to his eyes.
“Were you walking on the railings?” he asked, a tinge of both suspicion and dry amusement in his voice.
“N-no,” Orihime answered, reddening. “I am not really sure.”
He shook his head in disbelief, “Really. Try being more cautious next time.”
“S-sorry,” Orihime said shakily, shivering and wrapping the blanket tighter around her.
Ichigo quickly noticed this and said, “Let’s get you some change of clothes, shall we? Get out of those wet things. You’ll get a cold.”
Both of them suddenly realized the undertones of what Ichigo had said and reddened. Ichigo coughed and said as a quick excuse, “I – I didn’t mean that.”
Orihime smiled with amusement as the coloring of her cheeks faded away. She nodded and took some clothes where she hung them. She went to the adjoining room to change.
When she entered, she couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the gentlemanly nature of her husband. Even though his other self did all those things to her, the real Kurosaki Ichigo was a man of respect. Never once did he do something that would damage her honor. He would let her do as she pleases. He was the man who could spout words such as “I will protect you” in a very solemn oath that one can definitely say that he was sincere and would not try to break it. He was the kind of man that everyone could and would respect. He had compassion and bravery, even though his usual cold demeanor doesn’t show it.
Orihime knew that he was just unsure of letting people too close to him, being the unwanted grandson. Being a prince… being a man who has lost his mother so early – his constant source of security and assurance. Being constantly teetering on the balance of fending off a monster inside of him. And also…
Having lost someone he loves.
Orihime suddenly felt numb at this thought and she was not even certain why. She found her own hands moving on their own, changing her wet clothes to the dry ones she had taken. A surge of comfort slid within her physical body, but inside, she felt empty.
It was as though she was expecting something out of this marriage. A marriage of convenience.
“Don’t be stupid, Orihime,” she muttered to herself.
She gazed at the mirror inside the room and sighed at the blotched look on her skin. Her eyes had gray circles under them. The whites of her eyes were a bit red from the seawater. Her lips lost a bit of their red. Her hair was still damp and smelled salty.
She sighed and took some water from the pantry, mixing it with perfume as she washed out the scent.
As she dried and combed her hair, she remembered the feeling of being saved by her husband, and somehow the feeling left her warm inside.
Meanwhile, in the other room…
What the hell did I just say?! Ichigo thought, scowling to himself as he changed his clothes. He felt that he had been discourteous towards Orihime because of what he had said.
As if you haven’t seen what’s underneath those clothes, that thing said in his mind, a slow laugh resonating within him.
Ichigo’s scowl deepened. “Shut up,” he grumbled.
Tell me that you’re disappointed because you cannot even take off her clothes while I already did a lot of things to her.
Do not put me in the same position as you, monster.
Oh, I am part of you, Kurosaki Ichigo. Even though you are unconscious while I was touching her –
Shut up!
My point is, because I am a part of you, I can sense your emotions. And right now, I am quite sure that you are feeling a bit… tensioned.
Ichigo was interrupted from his thoughts when the door opened, signaling Orihime’s return. He turned around and gave her a small smile – a smile which she returned with one of her breathtaking ones.
Breathtaking?
“Thank you,” she suddenly said when she walked towards their bed, her eyes never leaving his. “Thank you for saving me.”
Ichigo could only nod, following her movements. He noticed the way the thin fabric of the night dress moved with her, outlining the curves of her body perfectly. He observed the way the moonlight streaming outside of their window illuminated her creamy skin and shapely legs. Shadow and light played across her tired face, but even with that, she still looked beautiful – like an ethereal creature.
When she sat on the side of the bed, the hem of the dress rose a bit and gave him a moment’s peek of her upper thigh. He felt blood pool down to a place he’d rather not think about, but was making its presence recognizable with each passing second.
Without warning, he found himself moving closer to her. He observed her eyes widening more with every step he took.
Without thinking, he reached out and touched the side of her face, tracing her smooth skin with his rough thumb.
He felt something triumph within him as he saw her gray eyes darken and her lids relaxing. He repeated the action and her eyes came to a close.
She shuddered, and this time, it was not out of cold.
Now he knew why he adored this creature before him.
He leant down.
Done! 🙂
Please leave a review. 😀
BTW, thanks to Akito Kyo for the PM! 🙂 That’s a really nice review.. I shall reply to it as soon as I can.. 😀
Chapter 14: Chapter 14
Hold on
I’ll be here when it’s
All done you know
Cause what’s the point in chasing
If I can’t enjoy your face and
We can be wrong tonight
Can we be wrong tonight?
Hey minna! 😀 I’m glad you enjoyed the previous chapter. As for some questions, YES, Ulquiorra drugged Orihime. And to some who said that Aizen and Fumiko are the ones talking in the 12th chapter, NO, they’re not. Those two were different people. ^^
Thank you all for the awesome reviews. I love y’all…
[As for the introductory verse, it’s from the song Find a Way by SafetySuit. I totally loved this IchiHime AMV made by FullReject on Youtube. And this was the background music. It was so breathtakingly beautiful. *wipes tears.*]
And yeah, I changed my pen name again. Expect that… I’m just very undecided about my pen name right now. LMAO. But it’s still me, directX07/EmelieRochefort07. You all know that I’m the author of Your Fading Starlight. ^^
Hope you enjoy this chapter. Leave a review please. ^^
Chapter 14
Find a Way
When his lips finally touched hers, there was an unusual sense of coming home. It was as if he knew that this was the most correct course of action he had ever taken. Something had fallen into place, and he could only quiver at the realization of this. He had never felt anything like this.
Her lips were warm and pliable. He felt her gasp at the contact, and the sudden rush of her sweet breath when she exhaled on his face worked its way on the nerve endings of his skin, making him feel more intimate with her.
He continued rubbing her cheek with his rough hands. His eyes, barely open, could still make out the blush on her face. He opened them more to assess what he was doing to her.
Orihime could barely keep her mind at ease. Her heartbeat was thundering and it was threatening to break out of her chest. With every sharp intake of her breath, she felt more frivolous, but she fought to remain those thoughts contained. The contact of his warm lips, gentle on hers, was frightening yet exhilarating. The contact was only as light as a feather, but it undid her.
She opened her eyes, desperate yet nervous to find out that the man kissing her wasn’t her husband, but him. The demon…
But when she opened her eyes, gray collided with brown. Her lids flew open at the sight.
Kurosaki-sama, she thought, surprised.
No, there were no transformations. No rough handling. Nothing. It was indeed her husband. He was handling her as if she might break at any moment.
“Kuro – ” was all she could say, before he silenced her with another kiss.
God, what am I doing? Ichigo thought, as his lips claimed Orihime’s once again. He knew that what he was doing was wrong. It was like betraying his heart. He was betraying his promise to keep things as they are with his wife. He was betraying his affections for Rukia.
But there was something within him that wanted to taste those cherry lips. He wanted to blame his evil side, but it was not even speaking to him at that moment. It was not giving out a single noise. It meant that he was sane and that his judgment was sound.
Then why am I doing this?
He moved away from her again and observed her face. Her eyes were still closed, and her cheeks were tinted with a faint rosy hue. Her lips were parted slightly and they were a beautiful contrast to her creamy skin.
Without thinking, Ichigo parted his own mouth and crashed it down to hers, reluctantly sweeping his tongue over her lips to know what they tasted like.
Orihime’s eyes widened as he felt his hot tongue slide over her lips. When she gasped, it seemed like the wrong move since he delved his marauding tongue within her mouth, demanding and tasting.
All she could do was groan in submission, because even though her husband was a bit forceful, he was still gentle. The endearing and passionate kiss seared into her mind and she knew that he was not that conscienceless monster before. She knew… she knew…
God, she tastes so good, was all Ichigo could think about. She was hot on his tongue and her mouth was scorching him. A heat spread throughout his body like wildfire and when she groaned into his mouth, he gave in to his wants.
He gently pushed her down on the bed, taking his own body and placing it firmly on top of hers. It was amazing how their bodies fit – the curves and angles. He placed his left hand on her cheek as he nestled the other one on her hips, gently caressing and never putting some distance between his body and hers.
He lightly bit down on her lip and she gasped, making him smirk with male ego. Her hands were now around his neck, her nails gently scraping his nape and the ends of his hair. Even with these small actions, he could feel everything, and he wondered how it would feel like if she touched him everywhere.
He moved himself so that they could lie perfectly on the bed. His hand on her hips was no more, and was instead put up to support his weight so that he wouldn’t fully crush her. And it was also to distance and hide something between his legs that was making its presence more noticeable.
She could be my undoing, Ichigo grumbled to himself. He removed his lips from hers and moved to nuzzle her ear, inhaling the sweet smell of her hair that she clearly just washed. He could smell all of her and it was driving him insane.
Orihime’s breath hitched when Ichigo’s mouth left hers and breathed in the scent of her hair. Heat flooded down through her body and into that juncture between her thighs. She flushed at this, but couldn’t react further when that magical cavern started nipping her earlobe, making her moan in want.
Ichigo coated that soft skin with his warm saliva, his eyes smoldering now at the sounds Orihime was making as he worked his magic on her. The hand that was holding her cheek now went down to trace small and lazy circles around her neck, which made her body shiver with anticipation.
Ichigo took a peek down and saw the silky tresses of the constrictive piece of clothing that was covering her body. The night gown was leaving very little to the imagination, as it flaunted her curves in a modest but seductive way. Her very generous chest was heaving and was gently brushing against his cloth-covered chest with every rise. He held on to every shred of his nonexistent control just to prevent himself from ripping those clothes off like an angry beast.
There was something preventing her from doing so. Like this was the only way to show her that he was there to protect her and care for her. And this was also the way to show her that somewhere along the way of their platonic relationship, he had begun to desire her. That somehow, the very thought of almost losing her while he was asleep shook him to the core and that he never wanted to leave her side ever again.
A flood of the unexplainable took over Ichigo’s mind and body and he didn’t even know where they came from. It was hard to comprehend and he did not want to think about it at the present. All that mattered now was her… only her.
“You didn’t know,” he muttered into her ear, “how afraid I was.”
Orihime’s eyes widened at this. His voice was constricted, like it was holding down some deep emotion that she did not dare think about. She could only feel tears threatening to fall down her eyes at what he had said. The way he spoke – it was as if his very world would crumble if something did happen to him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered back, her hands that were already around Ichigo’s neck pulled him closer to her for a warm and reassuring embrace.
Ichigo could only close his eyes at the tender gesture, his head buried at the crook of her neck.
For minutes, they lay still like that, listening to each other’s thundering heart beat. But they both knew that they were not done yet… they were far from over.
“Orihime,” Ichigo finally said, pulling away from her embrace and looking down at her gray eyes.
Orihime looked back, mirroring the look he gave her. And both of them knew…
Their lips met, the heat scalding them as their mouths and tongues danced in a frenzied rhythm that only time knows when to stop. Hands entangled in each other’s hair, wanting more… wanting so much more.
Ichigo felt like he was going mad with desire. She tasted so sweet. Her unique taste left him asking for more. When her tongue touched his, the contact made him burst.
Orihime was mentally shivering at each stroke of Ichigo’s tongue. He didn’t leave a part of her mouth untouched. He explored and explored and she could only do so much with her clouded mind.
Touching the curve of her hips, Ichigo let his hands wander down her sides, moving them up and down, feeling the soft material rub against her skin. The friction was making her thrash and as if desiring more contact with her, he grinded his hips into her spread legs, making her feel what she was doing to him.
Orihime panted as she felt Ichigo’s desire burn through her clothing. She felt his hardness against her heating inner thighs and she remembered hazily how well-endowed her husband was. She knew, of course. Rather, she remembered the pain it had brought mercilessly upon her.
She shook her head mentally, clearing away all those negative thoughts. She knew this time, things would be different. This would be the way she wanted it.
Ichigo removed his lips from hers; grinning slightly at how swollen he had left those beautiful lips. Moving lower, he touched her neck, following his fingers with a kiss. Letting his tongue out, he licked her neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. Swirling, he felt her tremble and grip the locks of his hair tighter. Her back arched to meet his wanton mouth and he couldn’t do anything but serve his princess, who was coming apart in his arms.
Orihime could feel every bit of the surroundings that engulfed her. The sensations she was experiencing were so overwhelming that she could just close her eyes and give in. She could feel his blistering mouth marking her neck. She could feel him trail soft, wet kisses on her jaw. She could feel his calloused hands on her sides, rubbing against her. She could feel his body pressing avidly to hers. She could feel the tips of his hair tickling her cheek and his scalding breath on her skin. She could feel his eyes burning down on her body.
She could feel her own body rising… rising and rising in desperate search for the correct time to unleash itself. The waves of pleasure racking her body could only manifest itself through the tugging of her hands on his hair, the frenzied movements of her body to meet with his, and the silent screams and groans unleashed by her inflamed mouth.
The most beautiful way to sin…
Ichigo started to undo the lace straps of her night dress, uncovering the treasure within with his mouth and fingers. He placed light kisses from her neck down to her chest, inching closer to those beautiful mounds that beckoned to be touched.
He felt his member jerk at the sight of perfect twin breasts jutting at his sight, begging for attention. Beautiful pink pearls stood erect against the cold, pleading for his touch to warm them. Ichigo suddenly felt ravenous, but before he could go on with his feast, a selfless gesture came over him.
He looked at Orihime, seemingly asking for permission if he could continue. The young woman seemed a bit surprised at what he did, but her stormy gray eyes, clouded with passion, sent back the answer he wanted… the answer he needed.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Exquisite.”
He could only mumble praises as he kissed the curve of her left breast while softly touching the other with his free hand.
Orihime inhaled sharply, her mind suddenly going into chaos at the way his hand and lips moved slowly on either one of her breasts. There were no ravaging, no insensitive movements. It was as if this act was more on pleasuring her than just pleasuring himself. The poignant touch and the reverence of his praises made her feel unnaturally beautiful – like she was the goddess of beauty herself. She felt that she had power over him, power she never knew she possessed. This was unlike her past experiences with his other side, where he took everything from her without even giving back.
Her hands suddenly moved to try and remove his shirt. She tugged hurriedly at the buttons and tried to find her way. This resulted in Ichigo’s abrupt stop on the attention he was giving her breasts and look at her with a very amused expression.
“Please,” Orihime gasped. The endearing remark that escaped her lips triggered something in Ichigo once again.
He smirked. “As you wish.”
He straightened for a while, knees on either side of her body, as he bared his upper body as his wife had begged. Orihime had already seen her husband’s upper body before, but this time was different. She had a chance to look at them properly, touch them properly.
She stared in amazement at the fine muscles and smooth skin that covered his torso. She raised herself up, her head on level with his chest as she slowly and carefully traced a path with her fingers from his neck to his belly button. The way her long nails scraped his skin made him shudder, his eyes closing at the feeling she was giving him.
However, she suddenly stopped.
Ichigo’s eyes flew open as he noticed that he eyes were looking at something on his body.
Orihime felt a hand gripping her heart at the sight of scars at the side of his abdomen. They were clearly sword wounds, and whoever it was that he was fighting with did not give him a very good chance of escaping death. The one that stung her most was the stab wound that was merely inches away from his heart.
What could have happened if he…?
She couldn’t even bear to think about it.
What she did next surprised Ichigo.
She laid a knelt down in front of him, which made her head already on level with neck. The bed creaked slightly as she moved closer to him and laid a hand on the stab wound that was inflicted upon him during a fight two years ago.
When she touched the scar, the warmth of her palms surged across Ichigo’s chest. She looked up at him with eyes filled with compassion and sadness. The way she looked at him hurt Ichigo. He was not sure why she was even looking at him that way.
Because of my scars?
He was not exactly a pampered prince. He wasn’t even treated as one. Everyday of his life has been a hanging by a thread. He was always teetering, unsure of whether he will rise or fall. Many of the Japanese saw his father as a dog fed by the colonizers. This made him, the half-British prince who was also said to be the heir to the throne, a threat to the locals. Even though he didn’t even claim his birth right yet, there were more than several attempts to take his life.
Situations became worse when he started seeing Rukia. Many of her guards who secretly spied on them tried to kill him, but to no avail.
Because of the constant threats in his life, he learned how to fight. It was Rukia who taught him how. And there were many others who taught him how…
Rukia…
He squeezed his eyes shut, not knowing where the thoughts of her came from. However, he was easily removed from those recollections when something soft touched his scar.
Orihime…
Orihime was kissing his scar. She gently made contact with it and Ichigo felt himself go mad at what she was doing. He felt himself shake with unknown emotions.
She was kissing all of his scars in an attempt to heal whatever pain they had caused him, to show him that she was there… to help him overcome any kind of hurt.
Her actions were so endearing that Ichigo couldn’t even stand it. He got hold of her chin and raised her head up. His heart skipped a beat as he saw tears glistening at the side of her eyes.
“Why?” was all he could say.
“I…” Orihime started. “I also promise to protect you.”
Brown eyes widened. Why? He looked at her, and he knew from the look in her eyes that she was true to her word.
Why?
“You don’t have to,” Ichigo said, his hooded eyes unfathomable. Orihime shuddered at the look he gave her but then found courage when her eyes caught sight of those numerous scars.
“I want to.”
This broke the walls inside of Ichigo’s mind. He gently pushed her down on the bed and captured her mouth in his. Somehow he wanted to show her exactly what her words and actions were doing to him.
Orihime could only moan at the tender but hungry assault her husband was doing to her.
If I could take away some of your pain, I will. If I could heal your wounds, I will. If I could stay by your side forever to protect you, I will… even if we are only bound by some trick of fate, I will…
The oath repeated itself in Orihime’s mind – loving, kind, selfless… pure. Her intentions were something that she could not explain herself. Even if she took a lifetime, or another… and another, she probably could never explain why she thought so.
“Kurosaki – ,” Orihime said, panting at the urgency of his kisses and touch. “Ichigo.”
The way she said his name – it was like honey and heaven. Her voice clung to his ears along with the noises that they both made which will forever be imprinted on his memory.
Ichigo moved down and tenderly placed kisses back to her breasts. He weighed both with his hands, moaning at the weight of them in his palms.
“Beautiful,” he murmured as he engulfed one pert nipple, his tongue swirling around the areola. He softly scraped them with his teeth, trying to gauge her reaction.
Orihime let out a soft scream, her back arching into his waiting mouth, putting him closer than ever to her. Her face was ablaze and her eyes were in an ecstatic trance. She was holding his hair and shoulder with her hands, clinging to him as if her life depended on them.
Never before had she been so sensitive but right now, her entire being was tingling with unknown sensations. Yes, she had been here before, but this was much, much different.
Ichigo continued peeling the clothing off her body, his pace excruciatingly slow. He was trying to make the most of what he had. He was very uncertain why he wanted this experience to be very special. To be somewhat different…
Because I owe it to her…
Ichigo sighed inwardly at that thought as the skin of her flat stomach slowly unveiled itself before his eyes. He wanted to make it up to her so badly – for what he had done in the past. For his lack of control, for his lack of strength…
And I also want to do it with her.
He couldn’t deny this anymore. Lying on top of her, seeing her beauty, observing her expressions, hearing her groans and moans, and inhaling her intoxicating scent made his mind go into delirium. He had never wanted anything more in his life… this simple yet extremely blissful pleasure and luxury.
He touched her stomach and she shuddered again, a reflex that she had been doing during the whole time now. He was moving closer and closer to that coveted prize, and he could feel his pulse racing with each moment that he waited.
Instead of continuing his venture downward, he moved up and kissed her lips again. Orihime was surprised at this, but she would not want it any other way. Even though her body was being burned at this very moment, she wanted to take things at this pace he was creating.
Ichigo met her hazed gaze with his own, wanting to assess how she felt about this whole situation. He wanted to be certain.
“May I – ?” he asked, blushing slightly at the question.
Orihime smiled at this, both in amusement and gratitude for his gentleness. “Yes, Ichigo.”
There it was again… the way she said his name.
With that, he bent down, kissing one mound of her breasts, biting down at the sensitive nub. As she let out a soft scream, he finally reached down to her melting and waiting core, feeling the heat radiating to his fingers.
He groaned at the feeling as he gently sifted through the soft patch of hair between her thighs. She was already hot and wet for him. He gently stroked the entrance with his index finger, reveling at the liquid seeping from her femininity. He flicked her hardening clit.
“Ichigo!” she gasped, her movements growing wilder under his touch.
“Do you like it?” he asked, smirking slightly.
Orihime blushed at this and said nothing. She could only nod at the intensity of his expression – the way he looked at her.
Upon nodding, Ichigo inserted a finger inside her weeping center, feeling her walls close convulsively to receive the intruder.
It took every ounce of his willpower to prevent himself from ramming inside of her then and there. It mattered to him that he was pleasuring her at this very moment. Seconds ticked by and his finger was moving faster inside of her. Feeling that she was growing more slippery and open, he inserted another finger, filling the gap. His pace in rubbing her swelling jewel increased, making her shout his name in craving.
He moved lower, facing that part of her that he had been pleasing most. He could smell her wet and warm sex, and it was clouding his senses – whitening his vision and increasing the tightening within his trousers.
He bent towards her womanhood. Closer now…
For a moment, Orihime opened her eyes, wanting to look at what he was doing to her. She couldn’t help but redden incredulously at the melting brown depths that stared at her weeping desire.
“D-don’t…” was all she could say out of embarrassment. But she did not get to finish what she was about to say. A sharp intake of breath overtook her when Ichigo’s tongue darted out and licked the juices that flooded out of her as two fingers became three. He intruded her with his tongue and fingers, moving within her with a speed that made her head burst. Her hips arched to meet his plunges, both of them moving in a timeless rhythm.
She could feel something within her that was going tighter and tighter as each second passed. Without holding back, she came, crying her bliss to the heavens.
Ichigo did not waste any of his wife’s honeyed glory. He withdrew his fingers and sucked them like a hungry child. He looked into cloudy gray eyes and he knew that this was the time.
He hastily took off his trousers, his eyes never leaving hers.
Orihime could feel herself heating up once again at the way he looked at her. Unbridled passion, desire and longing mixed into something more was manifesting itself in those wooden depths. It was like she was being swallowed whole by whatever it was he was trying to relay. She did not know why, but she had a gut feeling that she was mirroring that stare too.
Why?
Because she was feeling the same way.
Her eyes wandered down to his erection. There was always this feeling of fright that took over her. She could only remember the pain and selfishness each intercourse has made her feel. She suddenly felt herself growing cold at what was to come.
Ichigo saw the subtle change in her eyes. From deliriously lustful, her stormy eyes held something like doubt this time.
That demon. She remembered.
Mentally berating himself for what he had done to her first time, and various times after that, he moved back to where he once was – lying on top of her. He swiftly embraced her, taking her frightened form in his strong arms. He wanted to absorb all the pain that he had caused her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice strangled.
Orihime was surprised at this. But with the way he said his apologies and the way his arms went around her protectively, she could only melt into his warm form.
She started to realize something. Something that she was afraid to acknowledge. But this was no time to think. He was giving her a very hard time to think things through, and as much as she wanted to know whatever this thing that existed within and between them, she was still scared.
Her eyes gentled as she whispered something that she never thought would ever leave her lips.
“I want you,” she said softly.
Ichigo stilled. He moved away swiftly, making some semblance of distance between them by supporting his form with his arms, positioned on either side of her head.
“Wha – ” he said, but was stopped when she silenced him with a finger on his lips.
“I want to,” she said, giving him a look that stole his breath away, “with you… I would not want it any other way and I would never want it with anyone else.”
Ichigo swore that his heart had already jumped out of his chest. He could only smile – the first sincere smile that he had given in years. Since Rukia left him…
He was visibly shaking. It was like his own body could not hold the sudden rush of emotions that he was feeling for this woman underneath him.
What sort of trick put us together? Why are we here now? Why did all start from nothing to something that I cannot even comprehend?
Ichigo kissed her, relaying all that she was doing to him in that moment. As their lips touched, he thrust inside of her, sparing no second. Any second less would be his undoing.
Orihime felt her walls widen incredibly as she took him in, his length pushing all the way within him. She reflexively bit down on his lower lip as she welcomed him inside of her with a thrust of her hips.
Ichigo removed his lips from Orihime’s, positioning himself as he withdrew himself from her heat. He held her hips as he entered her once again.
Again and again he did so, feeling her scorching heat clamp around his continuously hardening member. He grunted as her walls closed in with every push, her hips moving in rhythm with his own movements.
She started grinding herself to him in feverish action, making him groan as he held himself back from completely losing his mind. She started moving against him in circular motion, making their contact closer within her body.
Orihime’s womanhood was gripping him tighter and Ichigo could only distract himself by holding on to her breasts, toying with them with urgency. He entered and withdrew faster, the action becoming easier as she grew wetter and wetter with each plunge.
Heat… scorching heat…
Orihime could feel that knot again. Within her… scrunching tighter and tighter. She wanted to release that contraction so badly and all she knew was that if she moved with Ichigo, she would attain said release.
And so she did, meeting each powerful stroke. Her breathing was becoming more labored as sweat glistened on her skin. She felt his sweat drop to her naked body as he panted above her.
“Orihime,” he said in a guttural voice.
“Ichigo,” she echoed back.
With one swift thrust, they both came, their bliss echoing within the wooden confines of their room. The night witnessed their joy as Ichigo spilled his seed within Orihime.
Ichigo slumped exhaustedly on Orihime’s body, feeling himself still shaking from the earth-shattering force that claimed his body seconds ago. Seconds ago that seemed like an eternity. The power of his release left him breathless, and he was astounded by how much this goddess had taken from him.
Orihime felt Ichigo shuddering in his arms and she found some strength to hold him, smoothing his orange locks with a gentle hand. She had never felt so contented and so alive her entire life. It was like this was an epiphany.
An epiphany for…
She would have her time to think about these things. Right now, she knew, by some miraculous realization that she belonged in these strong arms. That nothing harmful would ever come to her life again.
An epiphany…
Done! Hope you liked it. =) 9 pages of pure lemon. This chapter was short, because it didn’t really contain anything but… smut… *snickers*
Chapter 15: Chapter 15
Now that was the longest hiatus I’ve been in with my fan fiction life. LOL. Sorry about that. I just wasn’t inspiredat allto writeanything.I’ve also been REALLY busy with real life andsomeonehas been areallygreat distraction from my online life.
I tried to get myself motivated by watching IchiHime AMVs (which has provided help with me so far when I’m in a writing bundle, but this time, it didn’t help at all). Even the latest Bleach episodes which made me squeal in delight at the power and intensity it was done (so full of IchiHimeness) didn’t motivate me. I didn’t know what monster has possessed me. And so now, I am trying valiantly to fight that monster. And I beg your forgiveness, readers, that this chapter might not be a good comeback writing. However, thank you so much for those who read, reviewed, and liked my new fan fic, ‘The Front Act’. I’m going for a complementary work that will stand as YFS’ opposite for everyone. TFA is, and is going to be, a very light and humorous work, alongside the angst and drama-filled YFS. So feel free to wash down every choking chapter of YFS with the light read of TFA. (Ok, rambling much… moving on.)
The inspiration boosters for my fan fics right now are songs. As of now, I’m listening to Break Even by The Script.
Thanks for waiting. Now, on to chapter 15. (The shortest chapter in YFS)
Chapter 15
Stricken
Her head was exploding.
Ebony hair leaned against the wooden sliding doors. She had been inside the confines of this grand room for five years.
Five years without anyone to talk to except for him.
He would never let her get out. He had told her repeatedly that her old self was no more, and that he could not let her walk around the manor anymore.
Why? Aren’t I the lady of this house?
She stood up in agitation and grabbed a comb from her drawers. She looked into the mirror.
“I am Kuchiki Hisana,” she said, tight-lipped. “I am lady of the Kuchiki manor. Why am I here?”
Because you have gone mad.
She looked at another reflection on the mirror. Her husband, Kuchiki Byakuya, was sitting gracefully behind her, his eyes closed in regret.
She smirked. “Whose fault do you think it is that I became like this?”
I have done nothing wrong, Hisana.
There he was again, looking at her sadly – with those gray eyes which she scorned so much. He had never looked at her that way before. He had always looked at her with passion, with care, with gentleness… with love.
Not with frustration, regret…
“You killed me, Byakuya,” she said, stronger this time.
I could do no such thing, Hisana. I loved you.
“AAAAAHHHH!” she screamed – a piercing, unearthly scream that shook the walls surrounding her. She threw the jewelry box she was holding with great force, hitting her reflection. The mirror smashed into pieces, breaking her beauty and the illusion of the man she thought was behind her.
“This is all because of her,” she breathed. “If I didn’t try to find her. If I didn’t try to bring her back…”
You adopted her as your sister, so that I won’t be recognized as her blood relative.
The shame I felt for leaving her behind at that place ate me alive with guilt. I couldn’t stand being in the comforts of a noble house as the empress of Japan when I knew she was battling life and death everyday.
I wanted to give her the same life I have achieved with you – a life filled with comfort and love. I wanted to share that with her. I knew my mind was getting weaker as each second passed by, so I went to search for her, while my gentleness and compassion were still alive.
I protected her from me, from having any connection to me. I nearly went mad looking for her, and when I did, I gave him to you so she can be your sister. But what did you do, Byakuya? What did you do when my sick mind was getting more and more rotten?
You fell in love with her.
With my sister.
Kuchiki Rukia.
But I will never die, not yet… not yet. I have not gotten weaker, Byakuya. I will not perish. I will not die.
I will get you back.
Rukia felt her heart being gripped a little as she stepped on land. She was not concentrating on the scene before her – a scene of bustling vendors, curious bystanders and gruff sailors. She was not focused on the cottages and carriages rolling out in front of her, nor the mountains that winked emerald against the bright sun.
She did not notice Yoruichi, who was grumbling agitatedly beside her, cursing the English and their wealth. She did not notice the three English representatives who were talking to each other.
She was being stared at by the people who seemed to be waiting for their ship’s arrival. She had been ushered aside along with the others, as if to give way to someone more important.
I’m now in England. I know what I’m supposed to do.
But all of her plans seemed to fly away from her mind. They seem to fade as she remembered what she saw. What I saw…
She saw the way Ichigo looked at her wife that night… that night.
A blast of trumpets. Quiet descending over the chattering crowd.
Murmurs ensued. The people, who should have started bowing in that classic western fashion to welcome their prince and his wife, were not moving an inch at all. They were just staring and continuing their talks, as if they were just anticipating the arrival of a very controversial figure or aristocrat as to whom they held no respect for.
Rukia stared, not knowing how she felt about all of this. This should have been an amusing moment for her – an English prince who was not welcome in his own land, but she was not amused at all. If this were another prince, she would have chortled, but this prince was Ichigo, and she loved him. Loved him even though she had been slowly torn into pieces at the sight she had witnessed. She did not move an inch along with the crowd and just stared at the other ships that had banked themselves in the huge and smelly pier. As she had noticed in her peripheral vision, so did Yoruichi.
Ichigo and Orihime stepped into everyone’s line of sight. No one moved a muscle again from the crowd below, but the murmurs erupted and escalated. But no one can hide their awe at the sight of the two.
Ichigo was dressed formally in clothes of the darkest blue, his long and lean body wrapped in the most elegant of clothing. He was exuding an aura like that of a true prince, with his piercing wooden stare and forbiddingly passive expression. But his eyes, his eyes,Rukia thought, they’re not so desolate anymore.It was as if some of the cold had gone from it and replaced by fire. His orange hair that shined with the sun was a perfect fit right now. In Japan, Kurosaki Ichigo stuck out like a sore thumb. But here, amongst these people who wore the same clothing with the same paleness and the varying array of hair colors, Ichigo fit in perfectly.
Rukia’s eyes wandered to the woman dressed in lavender beside him who seemed to have also caught the attention of the crowd, and of course, the men. Many of the European men were openly ogling at her, even with their wives present in their midst. But unlike the Japanese women who would just suppress their jealousy, the women here were much more open. They were whispering behind colorful fans and glaring at her. Some whacked their husbands with their hands and told them to stop staring at other women.
Who wouldn’t?Rukia wondered to herself. Kurosaki Orihime was a stunner. Her face depicted the epitome of beauty, but with so much innocence that Rukia was almost sickened by it. Sickened because the Japanese princess couldn’t find a reason to be angry at her with that look she had. It was as if her whole being breathed kindness. The way she stood was graceful and tall, her complexion was creamy and flawless, unlike the other European women Rukia saw in the crowd. Their skins were filled with freckles and various lesions that made Rukia disgusted. Orihime’s skin was like that of a Japanese, only a bit paler. Her auburn hair was left hanging loosely behind her, freely dancing with the wind, with two blue pins holding it in place and out of her face.
Rukia averted her gaze from the two, who seemed to have already stepped down to their level. The things she saw playing in their eyes were just too much for her to behold. She had to focus on what had to be done. This was no time to think about herself when her country was in need of her. This was no time…
Orihime’s lips frowned slightly as she watched the raven-haired girl avert her gaze. She felt a mixture of guilt and sadness for her. Guilt because she wanted to be friends with the smaller girl but she knew that was impossible because she, Inoue Orihime, was already…
Already what, exactly?
She stole a brief glance at the young man walking beside her. Kurosaki Ichigo had already put himself within iron bars and it seemed that there was no way through it this time. But no matter how much of this side the prince showed Orihime, she knew that this façade was not real. She had seen him with much more gentleness and compassion than this cold stranger beside her now. And she understood why he turned into this. He was now in England and he was about to claim his birthright. He was going to present her, his full-blooded wife, to the king.
Orihime’s eyes clouded a bit. For some time now, whenever the reason as to why the prince bought and married her intruded her mind, she was overwrought by negative emotions that made her unable to concentrate on whatever it was that should be holding her being still. These feelings, since that night when they had made love, were slowly consuming her, and she was frightened to death as to why she was acting so.
Why are you thinking this way, Orihime?
A stout and balding man approached the two of them as they finally reached the end of their walk. The crowd dispersed and a modest carriage waited for them. There was no cheerful and honorable greeting. They anticipated this though. Only Orihime and the three English noblemen were worthy of a bow and an acknowledgement. As of today, Ichigo still had no title to bear, and the stout man knew his facts. He merely sent a half-courteous acknowledgement to the young man and a sneer to the two Japanese representatives.
Ichigo was seething at the look the man gave Rukia and Yoruichi. He should have at least given them a sign of respect. He turned to look at the petite woman behind him and what he saw made him proud.
Kuchiki Rukia just held her head high and didn’t even look at the man who was openly insulting her with his glare. She had a bearing of a true Japanese noblewoman, and she was willing to show every ounce of it. She walked gracefully and silently, with a silent but slightly grinning Yoruichi behind her. The young woman definitely knew her purpose, and she was not to be swayed by this introductory act.
The leering man introduced himself as the King’s attendant, Philius Margera. He led them into the carriage with a swift nod. Ichigo had to count slowly from one to ten to keep his nerves in check. He was about to tackle the man to the floor with his superior manners.
Just wait…
And what was going to happen anyway? There was still no guarantee that he would be awarded his title. He wondered why he was the one to pay for something that wasn’t his fault. It was not that he blamed his parents for they were the most loving people on this world, but there was something unjust about the way his family was treated. Then again the world was never fair to begin with. No matter how much he had tried to prove himself, he would always be not enough… just because he was not of “proper birth”.
“Is everything alright, sir?” Philius said, with an ill-hidden smirk on his disgusting mouth.
Ichigo gave a stiff nod as he followed Orihime into the carriage. He settled himself inside, inhaling the ancient smell of the whole thing. He watched as their other companions made their way to another carriage.
“We still have plenty of room, Mr. Margera,” Orihime suddenly said. “Why are we letting the Japanese representatives ride in another carriage?”
Philius’ eyes bulged as if Orihime had said something blasphemous. He then regained composure and cleared his throat. “Because,” he said, pronouncing each word he spoke, “it is not customary – ”
“Not customary to treat guests with respect?” Orihime asked, her voice tinged with kindness and concern, yet there was an edge to it that caught Ichigo by surprise.
He watched amusedly as Philius struggled to find the right words. The man wasn’t about to talk rudely to a duchess, especially someone with such a name as Inoue. Ichigo suppressed a chuckle as the person being questioned opened his mouth stupidly and closed it again.
“No matter,” Orihime said gently, settling herself with the silence. “I guess I shall just have to speak to the King about this matter.”
It was now Ichigo’s time to gape at the auburn-haired goddess beside him. Where did she learn to speak with such authority?
Orihime was agitated. Yes, she was. She rarely felt negative emotions towards other people, especially ones whom she barely knew. Unfortunately, of all the traits that she didn’t like in a noble, being discriminatory was the one she didn’t like most. She could not fathom what right people have to step on others. She had experienced the same kind of treatment when she was living in the slums. But all she could do was be civil and calm about it because she couldn’t risk doing something wrong that might displease the king and revoke her husband’s rights.
Ichigo continued to stare at Orihime, noticing the banked fires in her gray eyes. If there was one person who also knew what Rukia and Yoruichi were going through, it would be the young woman sitting beside him. But Ichigo was certain that Rukia did not mind. The farther she was from Philius Margera, the better.
It would be better. For Philius’ safety,Ichigo noted with dark humor.
His gaze wandered again to where Orihime was and what he saw surprised him yet again. There was a subtle yet apparent darkness in the way she was looking outside the window. It was as if she was distracting herself from Philius and his presence. It was as if she was stopping himself from lunging at the man and doing something unspeakably horrible to him.
But Ichigo knew that that was never the case for Orihime. Someone such as her would never hurt or even think of hurting anyone. It was just her nature to be so naively kind and caring.
And why am I thinking of her like this? Ichigo mused. He could not deny that he had developed some sort of attachment to the woman, especially after the romantic and passionate night that they had shared. There was no use contradicting those emotions when they are already present. But he was still not considering these thoughts as a threat to his established and everlasting emotions for the dark-haired and fiery young woman who had bravely stepped forth to assume the role of Japan’s representative.
Ichigo worried for Rukia. He didn’t know what a Japanese, let alone a woman, could achieve in England. He sincerely hoped that Orihime could pull something off to grant Rukia a faster audience with the king. However, Ichigo seriously doubted that his grandfather would listen.
He closed his eyes, trying to remember what his grandfather looked like – the imposing ruler who had charitably given a position to his father and preserved his mother’s birthright.
He could never imagine the better side of him. Ichigo tried and failed once again. It was because he never saw this side of the King of England. King Barragan Luisenbarn of England never showed any sign of concern or respect to the unwanted son of his firstborn – his beloved daughter, Masaki.
I don’t know him at all, Ichigo thought, a wave of nausea sweeping over him. It was as though the effects of the whole trip were bearing down against him. He could only sigh. No, he was not feeling anxious excited or anxious agitated. He was feeling blank – the void feeling eating him inside. He didn’t even know why he felt so blank. He just wanted the day to be over with and done. He just wanted to accomplish what he set out to accomplish.
“We have arrived,” Philius announced, giving a small smile to Orihime and a broad smirk to Ichigo.
“Father, let me explain. I –” Masaki explained her voice firm as if she was trying to break through the ice mask that the intimidating figure before her wore.
“What do you intend to tell me, Princess?” King Barragan spoke, his voice booming, his eyes livid. “That you are currently bearing the son of a colonial vermin?”
Masaki, despite being on the receiving end of anger, looked at her father with equal spite. “The Japanese are not vermin. They are human beings, just like us. And Isshin is definitely not vermin, he is – “
“He is what?” the old man interrupted again, his voice quivering with rage. “Do tell me what you saw in him! Tell me that he has not intentionally impregnated you so that he can satisfy his carnal desires and gain a higher position and a favorable response from the homeland! Tell me that he has not used you! If you tell me this, then I would dismiss your flawed logic or intuition on what sort of man that Kurosaki Isshin is! I know what kind of man he is – an ambitious, self-centered, filthy commoner who aims to thwart England’s rule in Japan and try to infest my pure blood lines with his filth-filled – “
“ENOUGH!” Masaki screamed, bowing his head with disgust, unable to look at the man her loving father had become. “How dare you speak that way towards someone you have not even met yet. How dare you accuse him of such atrocious lies when you yourself manifest all of the traits you just labeled him of. How dare – “
Masaki was interrupted again by the sound of rushed footsteps and a huge impact on her right cheek that sent her to the floor. Filled with anger, the king had slapped his favorite daughter hard across her face, unable to restrain himself.
The princess looked at the king with such pain and loathing in her eyes that he was left haunted for years. That was the day that there was no longer a father or a daughter, a friend and a confidante, a king and a princess. That was the day they had become strangers – an old man and a pregnant woman.
Barragan Luisenbarn sighed to himself, recalling again the events that had happened almost two decades ago. He did not wish to remember, nor did he wish to have these memories to have taken place at all.
He loved her daughter more than anything in this world. He had guiltily admitted that he had loved her more than his other children – a fact which he knew that they had known for years since they started to think for themselves. He could neither deny nor accept it in front of them. He could just remain silent. But he knew… oh how he knew.
And how he regretted.
He had never seen Masaki again. When he found out that she died, he was overcome with grief that he had changed entirely. He was no longer ambitious and proud; he had withered to an old father who had lost his darling daughter. The affairs of the state were left to his advisers, his sons and daughters. He was shamed and lonely.
However, all of this changed when he laid eyes on his grandson – Masaki’s perfect miniature. He possessed the same shade of hair, albeit a bit brighter. He had the same wooden eyes. He had the same sweet smile. He was everything the king never thought he would be.
Unfortunately, he did not know how to react to the little boy. He so foolishly ignored him, trying to harden himself to look that he did not instantly fall into the boy’s charms. He did not want his other grandchildren and children to know that again, he favored Masaki and her son. He had to be fair, so again, he had put the boy in pain.
And now, he was about to meet him again. After all those years. He only learned of him through reports from his most trusted spies and accomplices. It seemed that all the youth had been snuffed out of him the day his mother died, the same as his own grandfather. It seemed that he had become so serious in attaining his birthright and doing his best that Barragan had an impression that his drive and ambition was something that he got both from his mother and from his very own grandfather.
Barragan could not deny, as he sat in the beautifully ornate interiors of his throne room, surrounded by all his children and grandchildren, flanked by his most trusted men and guards, that he anticipated Kurosaki Ichigo’s arrival more than anything these past years. It was as if he was being reunited with Masaki once more.
He was also curious about the Inoue girl that his grandson so hurriedly married just to gain his rights. He could not believe his ears when his men reported that the last Inoue was found alive and well in Japan, already married to his grandson. It was like the marriage of two royals – a dream come true and a coincidence so surreal for the old man. How his grandson could have found such a jewel was unbeknownst to him. He would just have to find out for himself.
There was also the issue about the Japanese representative that was arriving. Apparently, it was the ‘princess of Japan,’ a member of the Kuchiki clan. Barragan grinned solemnly to himself. He was not in a hurry to release Japan. Even though he had softened over the years, there were still some things that he intended to do with the country. He was still a cunning ruler after all.
A blast of trumpets resounded through the halls of the expansive castle. Barragan straigtened, and he watched, amused, as his entire family seemed to put its full attention to the closed oak doors. Any minute now…
Any second now…
The doors finally opened.
DONE. =) I know you’re glad I updated. But this was just a filler chapter, as I have implied. But there, this is also important because it’s a foreshadowing and a flashback of some things… 😉 *Mona Lisa smile*
Please leave a review! It would help me very much! ARIGATOU…
Chapter 16: Chapter 16
First of all, I wanna apologize to those who reviewed and PM-ed me about Lasting Accidents. It seems that I have hit a dead end with that story and I have no choice but to draft the final three chapters of it. I will be updating it within a month, but that’s it. I will be wrapping up the story. Thank you so much for the wait and I’m also very sorry.
As for the readers of YFS, especially to my dearest Amber, thank you so much for the reviews. I am truly honored by the compliments and thankful for the suggestions!
So as thanks, I’m here to present the 16th chapter of YFS. *claps my hands in enthusiasm*
Author’s notes about this chapter: To avoid confusion of rankings, I made up titles for the first generation princesses and the second generation members. The second generation would be given titles with “(Rank order) ROYAL Prince/Princess (Name)” while the first generation legitimateprincesses will be named with their current titles and the “(Rank Order) Prince/Princess (Name)” I hope I didn’t sound too confusing. (LOL)
And as for the plot inconsistency that my wonderful friend pointed out, Ukitake Joushirou is also Barragan’s son. However, he is not a legitimate son. He’s one of the many children given a title by the King, but is not the son of the deceased Queen. Therefore, I give the titles Archduke and Archduchess to Barragan’s illegitimate children. (More confusing things, I know, please bear with me)
For the most wonderful Tarrant-Hightopp, who has given me all the love in the world. 3
Chapter 16
Duly Noted
The doors finally opened as the entire royal family of England poised themselves for the coming of the First Royal Prince of England, Kurosaki Ichigo and his wife.
Amidst the blast of trumpets, Tia Halibel Luisenbarn, Dauphine of France and Second Princess of England, turned a sharp eye to her son, Grimmjow. The young man was looking smug since the reunion of the Royal Family the day before and his eyes were glinting with malicious intent, as though expecting something to happen to his cousin the moment he stepped into the Great Hall. She sighed to herself. She did not know how Grimmjow turned out to be like this. She had always disciplined him, taught him in the refined and well-mannered ways. But it seemed that he had the blood of his ambitious and cunning forefathers. He also had their vicious temper and a delight in the underhanded ways.
Please, God, she prayed silently, do not make him do anything that will destroy the welfare and honor of this country, of the family and most especially, of his own.
Kuukaku Luisenbarn, Third Princess of England and Duchess of Leicester, nearly slouched on her throne; however, a stern eye from her husband caused her to sit up straight. Ryuuken can be a damned prick, she thought grumpily. She then turned her attention to the door and smiled sadly.
After many years, I will be able to see your son, sister, she thought. I have not seen him during his first visit. Only father did. However… they say he looks a lot like you.
Kuukaku stopped a tear that threatened to fall from her eye. She missed her eldest sister Masaki so badly. Their visitor would be a living blood reminder of her, and Kuukaku did not intend to treat him horribly.
She gave a wry smile to her son, Kaien. Along with the arrival of Ichigo was Uryuu, one of the representatives who came to England to watch over the traveling prince and his wife. Uryuu was Kuukaku’s stepson, Ryuuken’s son from his first wife. The child was cold towards her, but she never failed to show him the stern devotion a real mother would give her real son. However, Ryuuken did not give Uryuu the treatment a son deserved from his blood father. Kuukaku knew why, but she rarely spoke of it.
An ill-suppressed cough was heard amidst the royals, as Soi Fong Luisenbarn, Fourth Princess of England scoffed at the arrival of the bastard prince. Her intelligent eyes scanned the doorway, fighting an urge to speak out against this act of atrocity that allowed a half-breed inside the pure halls of the palace. Strict and a stickler for tradition, Soi Fong was the only legitimate child of King Barragan left unmarried, as she remained to train and discipline herself in the art of war and strategy. She moved up and motioned herself to be the head general of the vast armies of the British empire. No one dared question her authority, as she has proven to be a very capable and strong leader. She occupied the realms of the Middle East and India for England, and as such, was a favored adviser of the King.
But although she had earned the king’s respect, she had never earned his paternal love. Not like Masaki, or Halibel, or Kuukaku. The youngest child always strived to make herself known, so as not to be eclipsed by Masaki’s beauty and wit, Halibel’s calm and might, and Kuukaku’s humor and drive. Soi Fong was born short and a bit plain. However, her vast intellect and unending will to succeed pushed her past her elder sisters. She had no time to frolic in the pleasures of her personal life. She was in the Royal Family for one reason alone – to be victorious.
Thus, Soi Fong deemed the failure of Masaki an unforgivable sin. And she considered the son the fruit of all those sins…
Ukitake, First Archduke of England, smiled sadly. Seated at the lower group of seats right below the direct descendants of the King, he partially knew what it felt like for Kurosaki Ichigo. The white-haired man knew was the child of the King’s favored mistress, a duchess. He was taken in by the King when he was 11 years old, the eldest of his bastards. The Queen did not take this insult lightly and would often punish him to the point where in he developed a terminal illness that sometimes led to near-death experiences. However, Ukitake’s calm demeanor and charm won over the King and the men of the court. He was given a title in which he stood well with, much to the Queen’s dismay.
Yachiru chomped noisily on a piece of candy, tugging at the spiky locks of her elder brother, Toushirou. Ukitake smiled at this. His children inherited his rabid addiction to sweets, even though his eldest, Toushirou, would deny it. The man suddenly remembered – a vision of black hair… beautiful, so very beautiful…
Gin Luisenbarn, Second Archduke of England grinned at the tension-filled surroundings. This was something that did not occur everyday and everyone knew that Gin was up for the thrill – always up for the thrill. Gin was a well-known swordsman, and could easily have been a general himself, alongside his half-sister Soi Fong, but he did not involve himself in military matters. Instead, he would invest his time lounging around the palace and sneaking out into unknown places. He would associate with so many women that no one dared to count. He was not the typical prince, and some people would get suspicious of his foxy grin and his terrifying eyes. However, Gin would also pass himself as the carefree type.
Aah… the First Princess’ son, he thought amusedly. I have never seen him. I wonder how he’d like his uncle…
Lisa Luisenbarn, Third Archduchess of England, rubbed her eyes, failing to get a wink of sleep the night before. She was finishing the book she was writing, and God knows that if Lisa, the Lightning Scribe, started to write, there would be no stopping her. Indeed, her talent was so amazing that an entire shelf of the Royal Library was filled with her works. The King was delighted by this gift that he had taken in Lisa, his only illegitimate daughter, into the palace when she was fourteen. Having entered the palace only a year after the Queen’s death, Lisa was spared from the royal’s wrath.
Her expression remained tired but haughty. She did not want to be disturbed from crafting her greatest work of literature yet just to welcome a prince who has not had the decency to show himself to his family for years.
He wants the throne, Lisa thought. But she wondered how the young man would assume the throne. One look at the expressions of Grimmjow and Soi Fong, Lisa knew it would be an impossible task for the newcomer.
In came the people they have all been waiting for…
Ichigo felt numb. He was unfeeling. He was blank.
When he walked into the outer ring of the Royal Palace, he could remember vaguely the first time that he went to his homeland, if he could call it home.
He remembered the hushed whispers of the servants and the nobles who were present at his arrival. He was a cheerful boy back then, with not an idea of how the public sees him. He could only smile kindly at the vicious glares and the disgusted looks thrown at his direction. He did not understand. He asked his attendant, who simply ignored his questions.
His father was left in a mansion miles away from the palace, as someone like him was not allowed within the sacred and pure confines of the British palace. The young boy walked virtually alone, with not a friend in tow. Not a single friendly or even an apathetic soul…
But this time was different. There was something in that void he was feeling.
And it was the hand of the woman safely tucked within the crook of his arm, holding on to him with a sort of determination and courage, warmth and gentleness that aimed to calm his raging inner self.
He stole a look at Orihime, who was walking gracefully beside him. She gave him a soft smile and a brave look that eased him, that made him think that this endeavor would be nothing.
If he was being logical and cold, he would say that her presence beside him meant that he was bringing the living and breathing proof that he had fulfilled his end of the bargain with his grandfather. The Inoue bloodline was unquestionable, and the Lost Duchess was a treasure far undreamed of – something that they never thought he could find. It was like he had proved something.
If he was being real to himself, there was a comfort and kindness to her presence that seemed to calm everything within the vicinity. Her beauty was striking and a monument of perfection. Her humble brilliance was something evident when one spoke to her and the years of experience with commoners had given her worldly knowledge. She was not someone who should be taken lightly. Ichigo knew that the Royal Family would be more than surprised with her.
Also, there was something there…
The way her soft skin felt against his rough hands, the way her lips would mold over his, the way she moaned under every move he made on her body…
Ichigo shook his head, earning him a confused and worried glare from Orihime. He reddened slightly. How could I be thinking of something like this at this time?
Orihime observed Ichigo’s heated expression and wondered if he was alright. It was rare for his cold and repelling exterior to be broken down, and it seemed that meeting with the people who turned their back on him for many years was something that did not sit well with the young man.
She knew the feeling all too well – the feeling of seeing those fake smiles and ill-disguised looks of loathing and disgust. However, she did not know the feeling of your own family looking at you in such a way. She could only imagine how it felt like for her husband, the abandoned, half-breed prince.
She felt her heart ache for him. There was an attachment that she had developed for him, something she could never forget the night that all that intimacy happened between the two of them.
She blushed mildly at the thought, but said nothing. She was determined to be Ichigo’s pillar of support as he faced the inevitable. She would do everything in her power to help him achieve his goals. It was the least she could do.
If she was here to play his wife, she would do the part well.
As she walked beside him, she could not help but admire the wonderful engineering and decorations of the outer ring of the palace. She wondered how long it took for the whole edifice to be built, and what parts of it were built during the rule of her family. She wondered how it would feel like if she were the part of the Royal Family, if her family was not deposed. She could not imagine herself in that situation. She could imagine herself more back in the streets of Inuzuri, asking for another extension for the payment of their debt than a life of wealth and glamour.
Orihime smiled dejectedly as she remembered the faces of her friends. She briefly worried about them and their situations as of the moment, but her anxieties were alleviated because she knew that Haruka would be good to her friends.
If she was nervous for her husband, she could only envisage the feelings a certain raven-haired girl were having a few steps behind her.
Kuchiki Rukia was always afraid. Her feisty self might hide it most of the times, but she was always a terrified girl inside. Here on enemy territory, she was not a respected and well cared for princess. Here, she was an intruder, an outsider – lower than a peasant. She was vermin.
She did not bother change her traditional Japanese kimono to English garb, much to the chagrin of the man who took them to the palace. Neither did Yoruichi, who walked haughtily to her left. She was proud of her heritage, and she did not want any trace of English influence on her.
Her cat-like eyes pierced at the grandeur of the structure of the palace – an edifice that dwarfed the Japanese palace in which she once lived in as a child. She could only smirk in awe. She had to hand it to the English. They knew how to plunder and steal from their colonies to make a structure so big that it would catch every person’s eyes. One could only imagine the wealth and riches of the Royal Family –and how much power they hold to crush countless countries and to pound the hopes of free people to the ground as if they meant nothing.
As much as she was delving within her political standpoints, she was also thinking about how she would best present her plans to the king. She knew that the head of the British Empire was a man much to be reckoned with – an indomitable spirit driven by ambition and lust for power. She remembered well the written documents of the promises he had for her country and her people. She must do well to remind him of said promises and also give some propositions in the hope of total restoration of Japan, and the complete freedom of her people.
Her brother was counting on her.
Despite his doubts, she knew that she had to prove herself to him. She was not a little girl to be protected and cared for. She was not a traditional princess, only to be groomed for marriage and put on display. She had a mind and a will that should be put into good use.
And now was the time to put everything she had on the table.
And how about you, Ichigo? She wondered.
She could see the stiffness in the way he moved. It was as if he was also like her – an intruder and outcast. He was a member of the family, but he was not welcome. He was far from welcome. She knew of this ever since they were children. Kurosaki Ichigo was not wanted in this family. He was a disgrace to the name of the Royal Family. He paid for the sins of his mother and his father.
And now he was suddenly being given a chance. Heaven knows why Ichigo took that chance. Rukia was angered at that thought. She knew Ichigo better than anyone. She knew that he had a fire within him that refuses to bow down to anyone. She knew that he was a free man of his own rights. And yet here he was, walking to his own demise – walking back to the same people who had abandoned him and stripped him of what was rightfully his. It was like he was crawling back and surrendering. He had to resort to desperate measures to be accepted.
And said desperate measure was holding on to his arm right now, as if reassuring the young man that her mere presence would make him welcome to his folks.
Rukia shot Orihime’s back with an annoyed look. She had resolved her track of thinking about the noblewoman. She might have fooled everyone into thinking that she was innocent and kind, but Rukia was not fooled. Upon finding out that her family was once the ruling family of England, Rukia knew that she might be up to something. Why would she suddenly appear out of nowhere and marry Ichigo? How could all of this happen?
She did not know if what propelled her to think this way was her being jealous of Orihime’s marriage to the man she loved, but she did not dare dwell on that thought. There was just something about her that she could not place. And Ichigo was a fool for doing everything that he did all for the sake of gaining back his rights.
Whatever a man can do to take back what he owned… for power and wealth… for prestige and popularity…
“They have arrived?” Sousuke asked his attendant.
“Yes, Your Grace,” the man replied, his head bowed in respect.
“What do you intend to do?” Fumiko asked. “They are right where you wanted them to be.”
“Yes, they are,” he agreed, leaning back to his chair. “Then we should stop moving.”
“Stop moving?” Fumiko repeated in shock, her eyes suddenly turning incensed. “After so many years, you intend to stop now?”
Sousuke directed a look at his fuming wife that silenced the woman. “Patience, my dear,” he said quietly. “Timing is of the essence in this delicate mission of ours. Trust your son to do his work for us right now.”
Fumiko gave him a jeering laugh. “Ulquiorra? That boy has been a failure ever since he was born! I dare not trust him even with menial tasks. I began to doubt your sanity the moment you entrusted such a delicate mission for him – ”
“Only you do not trust your own son’s capabilities,” Sousuke said, eyeing Fumiko with amused wooden eyes. “Ulquiorra is a talented boy – hardworking and intelligent. And thanks to you, he is cold and critical – traits that I need; traits which you do not possess.”
“H-how dare you?” Fumiko screamed. “I have done everything you told me to!”
“Yes, you have. And I did not say that they are to be disregarded. I just explained to you that your son is of much value to me than you ever consider him for.”
The woman scowled and sat back on her velvet chair, like a child denied of her toy.
“For now, we leave it all up to him,” Sousuke said with finality, taking a sip of his Earl Grey tea.
Ulquiorra walked towards his carriage, leaving with the rest of the noblemen who ‘delivered’ the visitors to the palace. He had no time to be dawdling, and there was much to be done.
I leave you here, princess.
A blast of trumpets. The opening of doors.
Ichigo stepped into the Great Hall, the former scene of his greatest humiliation as a child, and now the scene of the greatest achievement he could have as a young man.
Orihime stepped into the Great Hall, a scene she had never seen before and had never thought of seeing, but now the scene of the sudden thrust to power and prestige that she had been running from for years.
Rukia stepped into the Great Hall, an unknown scene that could probably be the battlefield to determine the future of what she was fighting for and for the sake of peace and freedom for her country and a scene of unknown and untold possibilities.
Ichigo looked up to see the man that had pushed him away years ago. The man who ruled over countless countries and took over their lands. The man who was his mother’s father.
Barragan Luisenbarn.
Time and supremacy took much of Barragan’s youth, as Ichigo could see. But the aura of authority and insurmountable energy was still there. The breeding and command in the way he stood up to welcome his visitors was very much noticeable. Ichigo could not explain why, but he could not tear his eyes away from the intimidating figure. Maybe it was because he felt no fear or awe for the man. He felt nothing.
He bowed courteously, as did Orihime. He did not bother to look if Rukia and Yoruichi bowed, because he could not bear to let his grandfather witness the verification of what sort of connection he had for the Japanese princess.
“Welcome to England, my grandson,” Barragan’s voice boomed.
Grandson… the way the old man addressed Ichigo seemed foreign to his ears. He had never addressed him this way before.
Thank God, Orihime thought to herself in relief, managing a smile as she directed her attention to the king. He seemed to have accepted Ichigo. The worst is over…
Ichigo straightened and met his grandfather’s strangely gentle and scrutinizing gaze with cold and calculating eyes. He had hardened himself for this moment, and he would not go down easily to whatever ploy his grandfather was making.
“I am honored to be in your presence, Your Highness,” Ichigo said formally, ignoring the personal welcome the king gave him.
He has readied himself all to well for this, Barragan thought. What have I turned you into, my boy?
“This must be your lovely wife,” Barragan commented, turning his attention to Orihime.
The young woman shyly smiled at the king and bowed. “Kurosaki Orihime, Your Highness.”
“I heard that you are the Lost Duchess,” Barragan said, finally sitting on his throne and started assessing Orihime. “I have heard everything about you, Inoue Orihime. Your exploits and where you have strayed when you chose to walk away from your title.”
Orihime could only smile gently at the straightforward manner of this man. There was no question to his authority, and she could only answer, “Yes, Your Majesty. I found the intricacies of the noble life overbearing after all that has happened to my family.”
A straight answer, Barragan thought, impressed.
“Yes, yes…” he agreed. “What a tragedy for such a wonderful family. I am honestly delighted that their bloodline is not totally cut off.”
“I am lucky to have lived, I think,” Orihime said, letting out a gentle laugh.
“An exquisite find, young man,” Barragan said agreeably, smiling at Ichigo. “She has all the bearings of a noblewoman – an impressive beauty at that. You have everything it takes to be part of the Royal Family, Orihime.”
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Orihime said.
“And as for you,” Barragan continued, his look going serious. “I think you deserve to get your reward after granting your part of our bargain.”
Ichigo nodded. “And that is what I am here for.”
“Permit me to speak, Your Majesty,” Soi Fong said, standing up from her seat.
“Granted.”
“Perhaps you have forgotten your place, young man,” Soi Fong said to Ichigo, her gaze turning hard. “You are not in the proper position to dictate your terms.”
“I think I am very well in the proper position,” Ichigo said with dry amusement in his tone. “Because I have performed the task asked of me and is now taking back what was promised to me. I am in the correct position to dictate whatever terms are deemed right for me.”
“Y-you dare – ” Soi Fong said, her voice cracking with fury, but was stopped by Halibel’s restraining hand.
“Compose yourself, sister,” Halibel said in an authoritative tone. “He is indeed in the right place to speak. As it is our father who owes him something in return.”
Barragan nodded. He has Masaki’s bravery and intellect, he thought sadly, yet proudly.
“The moment you stepped in this hall with your wife, you are already the First Prince of England, Kurosaki Ichigo. (A/N: I think I should retain his name. ;))There will be a formal coronation, but it is, as it name says, only an act of formality,” Barragan informed him. “You already have what is rightfully yours.”
Ichigo bowed low once again. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“And of course, this makes your fine wife a princess,” Barragan added. “Welcome to my family, princess.”
Orihime smiled. “I am honored to be a part of your family, Your Majesty.”
“Now, I request that you move here tomorrow, as members of the Royal Family must stay in the palace,” the old man continued briskly. “It shall be a delight to have you here.”
“Is that not a bit too sudden, father?” Soi Fong interjected.
“Nonsense,” Barragan said, waving Soi Fong’s complain off. “We must not turn our backs on family.”
Ichigo could only frown at the irony of the statement. He looked at every face that scrutinized him inside the hall. He knew all of them – Halibel, Kuukaku and Soi Fong, his mother’s full siblings. Also Ukitake, Gin and Lisa, his mother’s half-siblings. He knew of his cousins, especially Grimmjow, who was looking at him with pure loathing. Ichigo knew that the blue-haired prince wanted the crown of both France and England. And Ichigo knew that he stood in the way.
Rukia looked on at the entire exchange, feeling the tension emanating from every member of the regal family that sat high above them. She felt a creeping sensation of disgust and hatred for the expensively adorned English.
She stared at the king, wanting to instantly speak up and get everything over with. But she knew that it was impossible. Everything had a proper timing to it, and this was not the time to be brash, knowing that she was holding everything at stake.
She watched on as Ichigo was being insulted by a princess, watched on as the king complimented Orihime and Ichigo, welcoming the both of them into his palace. Rukia did not know if this was all hypocrisy or if there was some truth to it. But she did not bother with that fact. She was here to accomplish her own terms to another pact made with the king.
“All of you may leave,” Barragan suddenly said after what seemed like ages to Rukia. “I wish to speak to the Japanese representatives alone.”
Some of the members of the Royal Family seemed to oblige, while some, especially the princess who spoke up against Ichigo earlier, did not like the fact that she was being thrown out of an important conversation involving one of England’s colonies.
Rukia’s eyes met with Ichigo’s.
Ichigo gave her a look of anxiety, as if he was reluctant to leave. However, what surprised Rukia was that his look was mirrored by the woman beside him.
Rukia chose to ignore these notions of ‘concern’ and directed her gaze to the king.
When the doors closed, Rukia opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Barragan.
“I know why you are here, Kuchiki Rukia,” he said, his eyes studying the young woman critically.
“I am sure you know,” Rukia said, making no movement of respect, not saying the proper honorifics for the man who had occupied her country.
“I have never known of any other colony so intent in gaining freedom than Japan,” he said wryly.
Rukia raised her chin. “It is because we have not forgotten who we are and who we wish to be.”
“I see,” Barragan said, his chin perched on his knuckle. “Many of England’s colonies have found who they wish to be under my rule. I have made every place I conquered prosperous. What more does Japan wish for?”
“Freedom,” Rukia stated plainly. “Perhaps the other colonies have forgotten who they are, unlike us. My people are as proud as ever.”
“No, not your people,” Barragan contradicted. “Not everyone seems to think the way you do, Kuchiki Rukia. Only the house of Kuchiki remain in their efforts to drive my forces away from your islands.”
Rukia shot Barragan a scornful look. “We speak for the entire people of Japan – even for the weak and voiceless. I am sure they are just too threatened by your abusive people to speak up for themselves.”
“I am not so sure about that,” Barragan said, standing up. “Was it not their very own princess who fell in love with my grandson and intended to throw away all the fight for freedom just to attain her own selfish pleasures? Was it not Japan’s very own princess who soiled my grandson’s honor and made him into an enemy of the Japanese people? Was it not Japan’s very own princess who made contracts with unreliable people just to ensure the so-called freedom of her country?”
Rukia felt shaken. What is he talking about? Why is he saying all of this now?
She felt Yoruichi move slightly from behind her, as if intending to do something. She restrained the older woman with a look.
“Whatever happened in the past has nothing to do with what it going on at the present,” Rukia said, altering the flow of the conversation. “I am here to make the deal you promised come true.”
“On the contrary, princess,” Barragan said with a grin. “Your past has everything to do with the present.”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you not here to ensure that a certain contract will be a reality?” he continued. “Are you not here to ensure that the promise of freedom I gave you years ago in exchange of leaving my grandson would be a reality?”
“Yes,” Rukia responded firmly.
“Well then, Kuchiki Rukia, let me tell you this,” Barragan said. “You are wasting your time.”
Done! Please leave a review. I hope you all liked it.
Chapter 17: Chapter 17
I feel really honored and flattered. I’m about to reach 500 reviews with 17 chapters. Thank you all so much for the support! I really appreciate it.
Sorry for the late update though. I have been busy with many other things these past two weeks…
This chapter is dedicated to all my IchiHime onee-sans. I think you all know who you are. I really miss you all. I hope to hear from you soon! =)
I would like to dedicate this chappie to my sis,le cuivre(hope I spelled that right!), Copper. Thank you so much for the reply. It means a lot that you didn’t forget about me! Luffyouuu!
I’m also inspired because I started watching Nana. I’m too lazy to read the manga. :l And waaaah, I fell in love all over again with it. It’s like the story of the two Nanas are a combination of my own story. 😀
To Tarrant-Hightopp, to whom every dedication is dedicated. A million thanks.
ADDITIONAL NOTE: Thank you so much K, for correcting my mistake on the hear, here thing! 😀
Chapter 17
Unworthy
“Well then, Kuchiki Rukia, let me tell you this,” Barragan said. “You are wasting your time.”
Wasting my time…?
Rukia held her ground. She stared at the old man’s serious face. It did not look like he was mocking her. He was regarding her with an expression filled with pity, as if he did not mean to do what he just did. Rukia felt her arms shake. Tears threatened to flow out of her eyes but she choked them back down. She would not allow this treacherous old man to have the luxury of seeing her cry. She would not.
“What do you mean by this?” Yoruichi said, her voice filled with hatred and fury. “What contract is he talking about, Rukia-sama?”
Rukia did not answer Yoruichi. Of course, the older woman did not know. Only her elder brother knew about the bargain she had struck with Barragan Luisenbarn.
“Y-you,” Rukia said, her eyes on the ground and her shoulders shaking with anger. “You promised to give my people back their freedom.”
“I did?” Barragan instantly replied. “When did I promise that, Kuchiki Rukia?”
Rukia hastened towards the old man’s throne. Barragan made no move to stop the impudent act. His bored eyes looked on as the raven-haired girl threw a parchment in front of him, revealing what seems to be a letter that bore the king’s seal.
“This…” Rukia started to say, “THIS! You sent me this!”
“I can very well see that it is a letter,” the king said with dry humor. “But that is not from me.”
“What? This is your seal! Do not take me for a fool!”
“You are a fool, woman,” Barragan informed her dryly. “You should have noticed after all the ceremonies held in Japan in England’s honor and after all the replies I sent your brother in his own quest for peace that this is not my seal.”
Rukia stared at him, horrified. Her eyes laid upon the seal of an eagle, a snake and a lion, neatly positioned around a coat of arms that was unique to the ruler of England. But there was indeed something missing… something very important which she failed to notice.
“Your initials…” she muttered to herself, dumbstruck.
“Yes, my initials,” Barragan said, standing up and picking the parchment that lay on the floor. “Those small letters that should be inside the coat of arms. Those initials that should have been on the letter itself, before my seal. Have you become so intoxicated in your fight for freedom that you forget every single detail?”
“I – ” Rukia started to say. Nii-sama should have noticed this. Did he notice this? Did he just let me go on purpose?
Yoruichi looked at Rukia in surprise. She was shocked that the princess made a deal with any member of the British empire, let alone the king himself. She never took the honorable woman for a person who participated in underhanded dealings. She knew that if ever any Japanese did take a pact for the price of their freedom, he or she could be fooled.
I am sure Byakuya knows about this. But why did he let Rukia go to enemy territory. She could be hanged for every little attempt she tries. She can easily be accused of treason if Barragan decides to do so.
“The games my children play are dangerous ones,” Barragan said, seemingly more to himself than Rukia.
“What are you saying?” Rukia said loudly. “I left Ichigo… I left him for this! The letter swore to grant Japan freedom if I let Ichigo go and if I talk to you myself!”
“Have you not noticed that this is all a trap?”
“This person,” Yoruichi said, speaking up once again, “this person who sent this letter. This person wanted Kurosaki Ichigo to be the prince. This person wanted Rukia-sama to be brought here to enemy territory.”
“This person wants you here, Kuchiki Rukia,” Barragan stated. “To kill you.”
Rukia stared suspiciously at him. “And are you convincing me that this person is not someone you know of? That you are not in alliance with him?”
“It might surprise you to believe, but no, I have absolutely no thought or participation in this,” Barragan said. “I have no intention of letting Japan go that easily. Yes, I want my grandson to be a prince and claim what was rightfully is if he worked for it. But no, I would never use the likes of you.”
“The… likes of me?”Rukia repeated. Her eyes fell unseeingly on the ground before her. It was made of ridiculously shiny marble and it was as if there was something else that made it wink mockingly up at her. She briefly recalled the very aged wood that covered the Kuchiki mansion, its old age hidden by several means that Rukia did not know of. Patched up so that it would not fall apart. Repaired so that no one would notice its damage. The once elegant and expensive walls were being eaten by time and termites. The furnishings were already infested by dust and cobwebs. Only the used rooms remained decent to the sight.
Just like Japan. Everything – their identity, their history, their culture… everything was being taken away and lost as time passed by. Time was their enemy. It had always been their enemy.
More time to defeat our enemies.
More time to progress and be free.
More, more time.
I want to ask for more time,Rukia thought.
But that was not possible. There were men who are able to defeat time. They were able to make the world spin to their own accord and bidding. They were men like Barragan Luisenbarn and his kin, who delighted in the downfall of the people around them for their own gain. Men who gloried in the defeat of the visions of so many. Men who worshiped no one but themselves.
Rukia did not know if Barragan was lying or not. But she knew, somewhere deep within her mind, that she had indeed been tricked. She should have noticed earlier.Nii-sama should have told me. Did he send me here to fail?
“Rukia-sama…” Yoruichi said, placing a hand on the younger woman’s shaking shoulders.
Barragan looked at Rukia and her companion. “You,” he said, “You nearly caused my grandson’s downfall. You are the princess of a country that was once yours. You are arrogant enough to sail the oceans to see me. You are impudent enough to step onto my land, walk into my palace and address me in such a manner that no one has addressed me before, even my sons and daughters. You walk here and demand something which I have never promised you in the first place. I have every reason to send you to the gallows for this. And yet, I will not.”
Rukia glared at him. “I do not need your pity. Send me the man who wrote me this letter, so that I may ask him what he wants from me. Why he toyed with my country.”
Barragan laughed. “I am sure that whoever sent you that letter was not after your country, but was after you. And you angry for yourself, and not for your people. Do not pretend to be righteous and heroic, Kuchiki. The pride and ambition in your eyes eclipses your so-called morality.”
The older man stepped down, walking to where Rukia was. He circled her like a vulture, his hands behind his back, observing her trembling figure.
“Ambitious, you are,” he spoke. “You pretend to be friends with my grandson to gain his trust. And you have gained more than that. You gained his love.He was willing to risk everything for you. He was even willing to give up what was truly his.”
“Shut up,” Rukia mumbled, anger clouding her judgment. “Ichigo never knew that he had anything to begin with. You abandoned him and ignored him. You made him suffer for something that was not his fault. You made him do you your bidding. Ichigo obeyed you and even, in his own way, respected and loved you. Here he is now, forced to marry a woman he did not love – ”
“And you loathe that, do you not?” Barragan interrupted. “I have known that my grandson’s allegiance would fall to me eventually. Because you would not let anyone stand in your way to attain your goals.”
“What are you saying?”
“What I am saying is, if you let my grandson fall in love with you and be with you, he would have gladly left everything and turned his back on me. He would even help you with this little revolution of yours. But you did not. And I presume you know exactly why.”
Rukia said nothing, every word uttered from the man’s lips piercing through her skin, inflicting mortal wounds on her soul. For her country. For her people. For that continuous drive to prove herself as a strong and independent woman worthy to be looked up to with awe and gratitude. She left her soul and her heart. She became an empty shell filled with ambition… nothing else.
“And now my grandson is here, married to the most beautiful woman of noble stock. A woman whom I might say struck me with her purity. I am a good judge of character, and I must say, her genuine disposition surprises me. She acts nothing like your common noblewoman. Perhaps because unlike you, she chose to grew up in hardship, out of selflessness.”
“Y-you do not know her!” Rukia retorted, trying to defend herself, but the knowing look in Barragan’s eyes stopped her.
“I know her. I know her from the very moment I have heard of her,” Barragan answered her. “She ran away to forget and protect herself. She consorted with Japanese commoners and lived as one. She was beaten up and chose to remain, until she was forced away again from that life she had chosen so that she could protect the friends that were not even of her own kind. Now tell me, Kuchiki, which one of you knows the Japanese people better?”
“And now she is beside my grandson, and I felt the bravery in his eyes as he faced me, while she consoled his inner turmoils. I do not know if fate is mocking you, but what you have let go has found someone much, much better than you.”
Rukia could not say anything in return. It hurts… it hurts. STOP TELLING ME WHAT I ALREADY KNOW! I know, I know it’s my fault that Ichigo is gone with another woman. But I did my best. I am doing my best. I am doing this for the best. But why am I the one failing? Why am I inferior to anything others do? Why am I inferior to Inoue Orihime whose intentions are not the same as myself? This if not for me. This is not…
Is it really not?
Barragan stared her down knowingly. He did not have to say anything. Rukia’s numb legs walked her along the hall and towards the doors, where two stoic doormen waited. It seemed like an eternity when you took a walk out of shame. You cannot hear the person calling your name, calling you desperately to come back and fight for yourself. You cannot hear your own footsteps, nor the downtrodden beat of your mangled heart. You cannot hear yourself think, for thinking has brought you to this sort of mess. You cannot feel anything around you, since you have already felt the worst wounds you inflicted on yourself.
Kuchiki Rukia walked out, knowing that she could not do anything if the mistake was her own. She did not dare to listen to anything that Shihouin Yoruichi was saying, or must say. When she stepped out, her sight blurred with the vision of two people waiting for her.
Kurosaki Orihime standing there, with her hand on her heart, looking at her with worried eyes.
And of course, Ichigo. Ichigo.Who looked at her with something she could not identify. Something that she should have known, but could not perceive due to the gravity the situation inside the throne room has left her with.
She said nothing.
But was stopped by Ichigo’s large and warm hand.
“What did he say?”
Rukia said nothing in response.
“Kuchiki-san,” Orihime said, walking towards her. “Did the King grant your – ”
“No.” It was all she could say. Rukia kept her voice firm, but she failed. Her eyes involuntarily jerked and tears came flowing from them.
I don’t know why my right eye easily weeps more than my other one.
She had always wondered. But not now.
Somehow, she wanted that hand on her shoulder to remain. Forever.
To squeeze her tighter and to reassure her that he would always be present. To comfort her and take away her pain.
She remembered what Barragan said about her leaving Ichigo for her ambitions… for her pride. Now she wondered if all of it had been for nothing. If fate was laughing at her now for her arrogance. If destiny’s cobbled path was paved smooth all the while, but she had been too foolish and afraid to step on it. While holding his hand.
“Did he trick you?” he asked, and she could hear the banked fury in his voice.
“No.”
“Then what happened?” he persisted.
Rukia could feel everyone’s eyes on her, but she could not utter a single word. Even a sound. She knew that Yoruichi was disappointed by her foolishness and gullibility. She had still been a child, susceptible to betrayal, and yet she trusted so easily. Again and again.
“If you do not want us to press the matter further then tell us,” Ichigo said, waving his hand in abandon. “You do not have to act like part of the furnishings here.”
A nerve ticked in Rukia’s forehead and she shouted at Ichigo’s retreating back, “Say that to me again, idiot!”
“Kuchiki-san!” Orihime said in surprise, but was interrupted by a sound of clapping hands.
“My, my,” a low, male voice drawled. “The visitors are so livelytoday.”
Orihime turned and saw a man with a shock of disheveled and spiky blue hair approached them, grinning. He had a strange and frightening aura about him. She noticed that his eyes had a crazed gleam in them, mocking them with arrogance. His steps and movements were that of royalty and because Orihime had been busy looking and talking at the King, she did not notice any other figure of the royal family. It seemed that this young man was one of them, to be able to address them with such informality.
Rukia glared at the approaching man. Another royal.The sapphire-haired man walked to them, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement and something else. There was no mistaking the insult in his clap and his statement. A lovely woman with flowing green hair walked behind him, her eyes wide and alert. She seemed to be observing them critically, but said nothing.
“Grimmjow,” Ichigo said through his gritted teeth.
Their eyes met and the long-suppressed rivalry sprung into life again. A realization came to the eyes of those who witnessed this reunion. There was nothing but pure hatred that channeled across the tension-filled air. They had somehow forgotten that this was a family were there was no feeling of kinship but there was always a feeling of proving that one is better than the other. It was cutthroat battle underlying all the civilities and social niceties.
“What are you doing here?” Ichigo asked, going back to his former place, beside Orihime.
“What do you mean what am I doing here?” Grimmjow said, his brows raised with mockery. “You have been away for so long that you have forgotten that I am part of the British Royal Family and that I am Dauphin of France.”
“It must have slipped my mind,” Ichigo said thoughtfully, scratching his chin.
Grimmjow frowned. The woman behind him frowned as well, glaring at Ichigo.
“Ah, I forgot,” Grimmjow said, masking the look of annoyance in his face quickly. “This is my wife, Neliel tu Oderschvank, Dauphine of France. Your cousin-in-law.”
Ichigo bowed. “Pleasure.” He gestured towards Orihime, who curtsied and introduced herself.
“An Inoue huh?” Grimmjow said, moving towards Orihime. “Such an exquisite find. And an equally exquisite beauty.”
There was something in his voice that made Orihime step back in caution. The deep blue eyes that held hers captive seemed to be plotting something inexplicably evil. It seemed that he wanted to take possession of her, like a child who desired another child’s toy.
An arm snaked around her waist and held her firm against his body. She suppressed a squeak escaping her lips as her husband placed her tightly against him, as if assuring her of his presence and making sure that no one, especially the teal-haired royal, would ever do her harm.
“If you are on your way somewhere, Grimmjow, I suggest you go. You would not want people waiting for you,” Ichigo growled.
Grimmjow smirked. “Since when have you become so… possessive?”
“You always love to share your things. Or rather, you always had things taken away from you,” he added, his grin turning demonic.
“Grimmjow-sama,” the green-haired woman behind Grimmjow finally spoke, and her voice was high and melodic, but was placating. Although, not one of them mistook the glow of resentment in her eyes towards the people who disrespected her husband. “Please, let us go.”
“Wait, Neliel,” Grimmjow said in a low voice. He motioned towards Orihime, bowing regally and extending a hand for her to put her own in.
Orihime stole a look towards Ichigo, assessing his expression. His gaze was turning dark again, those odd shadows creeping at the side of her eyes. She put one hand on his arm to calm him and put her other one in Grimmjow’s. It was as if she wanted to assure him of something, but also assuring herself that she would be safe despite putting a hand in the enemy’s way, which she very well concluded Grimmjow was.
Grimmjow lightly kissed her hand, and there was something scorching and lingering in his gaze that made Orihime shiver. She did not dare think about the plans behind those eyes, but she also wished she could know. So that she can protect her husband.
Rukia watched the whole exchange, unsure of what to think and how to feel. Ichigo was becoming possessive and protective of his wife and her insides were screaming bloody vengeance and jealousy. The encounter with Barragan left her humiliated and downtrodden while this occurrence before her left her shattered and scarred. The two men were glaring at each other to kill. The auburn-haired woman was staring at one man to the next, her eyes betraying the defenses she had built up. The green-haired woman was eyeing the other woman with shock and loathing.
“Grimmjow-sama,” Neliel spoke again.
Grimmjow shot her a quelling look, departing from the scene. Neliel quickly but gracefully followed, her head bent.
Gin walked purposefully inside the long corridors of the palace’s outer ring. He passed the bowing nobles and servants, all acknowledging the archduke. He smiled in return as he always did. There was something unnerving about his smile, like he possessed a dark secret that could undo anyone. But whatever secret it was, Gin kept it secret, and he hid that secret well.
He hurried along, finally reaching the outer walls of the palace. Sunlight streamed along the mysterious darkness he entered into, signaling that he was nearing the outside world. When he finally stepped out, his smile widened more.
An old carriage awaited him, its door already opened. The legs of a man were the only thing he could see from where he stood, and he wasted no time in entering the said ride.
“Gin,” the man said, his face hidden in the shadow. Aizen Sousuke smiled fondly at the man who sat before him, no longer a man but so much more…
“Brother,” Gin returned, inclining his head slightly. “How have you been?”
“Good,” Sousuke replied. “Just the same as always. Fumiko is giving me one hell of a time.”
Gin laughed as the carriage began to move. “That woman knows how to make everyone’s life hell.”
“Indeed.”
“But good for you, brother. Whereas I, alas, still have no one in my life,” Gin said lamentably, shaking his head.
“Rangiku,” Sousuke said pointedly, noticing the change in expression in Gin that only lasted for a fraction of a second.
“What about her?”
“You know where she is.”
“I do. And what about it?”
“You could have easily followed her.”
“I do not want to,” Gin said, chuckling. “Besides, she has a life out there. I set her free from an arranged marriage that bound her to me.”
“Yes but you do know that your marriage cannot be untied.”
Gin nodded slowly.
“But you loved her?”
Gin did not respond, searching the wooden depths of Sousuke’s eyes. He knew his older brother better than anyone else in the world. And he knew for a fact that he was not at all interested in how he felt, but how he could use the feelings his younger brother had.
“Why do you ask this now?” he asked frankly.
Sousuke smiled – a smile not reaching his cold eyes. “You know me very well, Gin. I assume you have met your wife’s niece.”
“Yes I did. What do you intend to do with her?”
“You mean aside from what Fumiko intends to do with her?” Sousuke said, laughing slightly.
“Yes, aside from that.”
“Hmm…” Sousuke said, his look faraway as he gazed outside the small window of the carriage. “She looks a lot like our sister.”
Gin’s eyes finally opened, widening in a state of surprise. Never did Aizen Sousuke ever mention their beloved sister for years. Years since she had left. Gin had seen Inoue Orihime and it was only now that he realized how much the young woman really looked like her. It was as though his nephew, Kurosaki Ichigo, knew… but what he did not know was taking a wife such as hers would only rekindle a certain flame of insanity and cruelty that could be his own death.
And that flame of insanity was now spreading like wildfire in those calm, brown depths of the man in front of him.
For Aizen Sousuke, banishment was like a soothing balm that healed him from the confining walls of palace life. For Aizen Sousuke, banishment was being free from the chambers that led him every day to a planned life.
Banishment had led him to a freedom in which he could plan without being watched, to move where he could not be followed. Inside the palace walls, he had damned himself time and again in the eyes of everyone who knew him well since birth, and to the eyes of God.
When he finally stepped out of the castle all those years ago, he would be free of her. Thoughts of her smile, her hair, her face… everything about her. She was the reason he lived, and she was the reason he kept on living. She was the reason for his sanity when he was an unwanted prince, and she was the reason for his insanity when she had passed away.
Aizen Sousuke always loved his sister, Masaki.
He had always loved her in a special way. In a way that brothers do not love their sisters. In a way that a man loved a woman.
And for that love, he was banished. And for her death, he was reborn.
He had loathed her, desired her, cursed her, adored her… worshiped her with every fiber of his being.
Gin knew, with the way he stared at him with held back feelings of shock and fear. Gin knew, above anyone else, how much he loved his deceased sister and how much he abhorred the decisions she made that led her to her downfall.
Gin knew how he had changed when he went out of the palace. The silver-haired man had dotingly followed his elder brother and gave him the riches that established him to make it on his own. Somehow, he was grateful to Gin. But he could never learn to love anyone.
Not since Masaki…
And now, Kurosaki Ichigo was going to pay the price. So Masaki could be glorified again… to be pure in his eyes and his eyes alone.
Death.
😀 Hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review!
Chapter 18: Chapter 18
Finally! An update! (Wow, I’m the one saying this? You should be the one bashing me for this very late addition to YFS!) Hello again everyone! I miss you all! I was battling with writer’s block about how this chapter should turn out. So, I go for the best (and most effective, IMO) plan of action, to not plan at all. I find it most effective that if I just remember important details and how I want the story to be, I get the best output.
Well, enough rambling. Here I go.
Listening to Love You Lately by Daniel Powter.
Chapter 18
Haze
Orihime sighed inwardly. There was so much that happened within one day and she did not have to wonder about the time. The moon shone brightly and drunken men were wandering about the brightly lit streets of London, their arms draped around each other as they sang in merriment, while some had heavily powdered women wrapped in unflattering dresses, giggling the night away.
There was a sign of abandonment and forgetfulness around the air that the auburn-haired duchess could only smile. She wished she could spend the night in relaxation, without any hints of alcohol, of course. But she was acutely aware that every eye of the members of the highest echelon of England was on her. She also promised to protect Kurosaki Ichigo.
Her gaze landed on her silent companion, whose brooding chocolate eyes were trained on the other side of the street. The lights played artfully on his masculine face, hitting him on different angles and making Orihime sigh again. She was not sure about her feelings for him – everything was in a colorful daze, but sometimes it would fall into a monochrome. With everything that had happened to them, she was not sure where she stood with him. She only knew that she was his wife by name, that she could become the queen of an entire empire.
But he could never love her. No. Loving him and being loved by him belonged solely to the raven-haired woman who was inside the smaller carriage following them. Following them to Orihime’s estate in England.
Gray eyes went back to the cobbled path that she had been observing. She could not remember clearly what her previous home looked like. She had been very young – around three or four years old, before her parents decided to explore the colonies of England. All she could remember were the rosebushes and the lovely blooms that her mother would take her to. But that was it.
She was notified that they had to stay outside the palace grounds before the formal coronation of Ichigo which was four days away. Since Ichigo did not own any property outside the palace, they had to stay temporarily at the Inoue Estate. It was fine with Orihime, given that she had forgotten that she had a vast chattel. She wondered who take care of the whole place while she was gone. Unlike her residence in Japan, their English counterparts had no idea what happened to her whatsoever. They had no hope or attachment that the little girl that only lived for three years in the place’s confines could even be alive. Her arrival and marriage to the possible heir to the English crown may have shocked the caretakers.
The carriage halted to a stop, the horse’s whinnies alerting Orihime to their arrival. Ichigo seemed to be shaken out of his trance as well, as he shot her a piercing look that made her blush. Luckily, the darkness seemed to have hidden the coloration and he did not notice.
“We have arrived,” the coach man said, opening the door.
Orihime did not even notice that they had entered the path to the manor. Before she knew it, she was already at the bottom of an elegant and well-kept staircase leading to the oak doors of the main entrance.
When she finally stepped on the gravelly path, with Ichigo beside her, she nearly gasped.
Servants lined up from the third step up to the top, with a smiling old man near the doors and a forlorn-looking matron.
“Welcome back, Inoue-sama,” they all greeted, curtsying in respect. “Welcome to the Inoue estate, Kurosaki-sama.”
Ichigo nodded in acknowledgement, unable to take his eyes off the display of grandeur by his wife’s wealth. Judging from her shocked expression, she was equally taken aback as he was. Up until now, Inoue Orihime did not exactly know the expanse of wealth she had. She was still taking it in.
“Wow,” a voice from behind them said. The pair turned around and saw Rukia and Yoruichi behind them. Rukia’s tone was a mixture of awe and sarcasm, if that even mixed well, but she made it work. The surprise did not quite seem to reach her eyes.
Orihime understood the animosity in Rukia. If she were not here, the Japanese princess could have had the man he loved. But what Orihime could never understand is how Rukia could let Ichigo go, in exchange of her cause. The duchess had been around the Japanese folk and she knew that they were people of pride and courage. A people that would not go for underhanded methods or ambitious ways to gain their freedom. They would eventually rise from the ashes, that’s what Orihime knew for sure. If only Rukia had the patience to wait.
She chose to ignore the hate-filled gaze and walked up the stairs, returning the smiles of the servants. When she reached the top of the stairs, she had a closer look of the man and the woman that waited there.
The man had a fatherly aura around him, but he also had this sense of professionalism and experience that made Orihime instantly warm up to him. His parted hair, monocle and mustache reminded Orihime of another imagination she had with how Ichigo probably looked before she met him. She giggled at the thought, earning her a questioning stare from her husband. She shook her head in reassurance and observed the old man’s companion.
A woman around her forties who once had that sober expression let a smile crack through her strict façade. Her hair was held back in a tight bun and horn-rimmed spectacles covered her light blue eyes. She had an aura of intelligence and keen observance around her that made Orihime feel a bit self-conscious, but drawn.
“Welcome back, Inoue-sama,” the man greeted, bowing deeply. “I am Sasakibe Choujirou. You probably don’t remember me, but I have been the Inoue family’s butler for twenty-four years.”
Orihime dug her memories for any vision of this man, then she suddenly recalled. She remembered the frustrated smiles and surrendering laughter of a man who mildly reprimanded the younger Orihime for always breaking the fine tea cups and vases of the mansion. She smiled at this vague memory and gave the elderly man a hug, earning a gasp of surprise from him and a gentle pat to her head in response.
“I am truly sorry for your parents and brother,” he said, hiccupping slightly and wiping the singular tear from his monocle. “I am glad that you have made it back and that you are well, Mistress.”
“Thank you for keeping this place in such wonderful condition while we were gone,” Orihime said, smiling at all who could see.
“Of course, Inoue-sama,” the woman said. “Our loyalties would always lie with the Inoue family. I am Kurosawa Ochi, (A/N: I made up a surname for Ochi-sensei, since I do not know her surname. Anyone here knows? Help!) the head maid of this house.”
Even though Orihime could not remember this woman, she did not hesitate to give her an embrace, which seemed to loosen up the uptight lady.
“And welcome to you as well, Kurosaki-sama,” Choujirou greeted, bowing deeply. “Congratulations on your union with our mistress. I wish for a long and happy marriage.”
Long and happy eh? Ichigo thought wryly. He saw the flicker of sadness in Orihime’s eyes which made him wonder what she was being sad about when it was in fact, the truth. He just returned the wishes with a mumbled thanks.
“A man of few words, eh?” Choujirou said, laughing slightly. “We’ll have to take care of that, don’t we, Orihime-sama?”
“Choujirou-san!” Ochi scolded, looking scandalized as Orihime laughed. “I am truly sorry for his behavior, Your Highness.”
“It’s alright,” Ichigo responded. “And please don’t address me that way, Ochi-san. I am not yet an official prince.”
“Yes but I’m sure you will be soon,” Orihime said with optimism. A sound of someone clearing their throat made Orihime and Ichigo look around.
“Aren’t we going in?” Yoruichi said, an eyebrow raised.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Orihime said, bowing Japanese style in apology, which apparently further scandalized Ochi and made Choujirou blanch.
Rukia rolled her eyes. “Oi, stop doing that,” she said to Orihime. “We’re not important in this country. Someone with your power should not bow to anyone else, especially to us Japanese eh?”
Orihime’s eyes widened at this. “O-okay,” she said, feeling startled and a bit offended. “There’s just no point in not apologizing. I am not being a proper host and I guess that’s the way I grew up. The Japanese in me can’t be replaced.”
The last sentence was said so affectionately that it surprised the onlookers. Rukia was about to retort when Ichigo interrupted.
“Enough,” he said, turning his back to the small woman.
What happened? Rukia thought. Why is Ichigo defending her?
“Ah, I assume that these are your guests, Orihime-sama?” Choujirou said, suppressing the tension with a smile. “Come in, come in, all of you. You all must be exhausted.”
Orihime nodded and walked inside, her bad encounter with Rukia forgotten as she took in the beauty of the place she once called home. A home that she could barely remember…
“Amazing,” she said aloud.
“Such enthusiasm,” Choujirou said fondly. “Follow me please, Kurosaki-sama, Orihime-sama. I will show you to the master suite.”
“Please follow me,” Ochi said to Rukia and Yoruichi. “I will show you to your rooms.”
The magnificent carpeted staircase parted into two at the middle and made way to two huge corridors at the upper floors. Choujirou led Ichigo and Orihime to the right wing while Ochi led Rukia and Yoruichi to the left.
When the two finally arrived to their rooms, Orihime was again wide-eyed at the size of the whole suite.
“You’ve never been here before?” Ichigo suddenly asked, breaking the silence as Choujirou closed the door behind him.
“Not that I remember,” Orihime said, looking around. “I think I have, somewhere in this hazy memory of mine.”
Ichigo nodded in condescendence, watching her flit around the room with grace and excitement. The candlelight and the stream of moonlight pouring from the windows playing on her features, displaying her ethereal beauty. Ichigo could hear the faint guffaw of his demon deep within him. He prayed to whoever would listen to his crazed mind that he would not appear tonight.
Orihime halted her observation as she looked at Ichigo, who seemed to have become quiet. He was looking detached, seemingly disturbed.
“You should rest now,” Orihime said in worry. “You must be tired. But, uhm, sorry about this, uh – sleeping arrangement.”
“It’s okay,” Ichigo said, mentally cursing himself for the croak that left his dried mouth. “We should be used to this.”
They both blushed at the undertones of what he said and looked away. Orihime had occupied herself by going over the adjoining room, the closet, to change. Ichigo meanwhile, started undressing.
He let his body fall down on the soft and fragrant covers of the bed, the sheets and pillows consuming and lulling him to a deep slumber.
When Orihime finally finished cleaning herself up and changing, she went to the bedroom, her heart hammering against her ribs. She mentally chided herself for seemingly being a frightened virgin bride on her first night with her husband.
But she knew that she was far from a virgin and a real bride. And that this was not a romantic night with her beloved husband.
The sound of peaceful breathing awakened her from her thoughts as she approached the bed. Her cheeks colored a bit when she noticed that the orange-haired man that was lying on the huge bed had his top bared.
Her shyness gave way to curiosity and an odd warmth in the pit of her stomach as she observed the sculpted chest and some scars that seemed to have been acquired over years of battling. She knew that being a prince in a foreign country had dangerous risks, and Ichigo had lived with it everyday of his life. And his body was a testament, in some way. It was not a perfect body, like that of a well cared for prince, but a real man. A real prince.
Before she knew it, she found herself on the bed, her right hand reaching out to touch the muscled chest, her eyes looking at the frown that seemed to be permanently etched to his face even in his sleep. The fine mouth that had, for a several number of occasions, kissed her with fiery need and passion. Those closed eyes that burned her soul. Everything about him that had been entwined with her in a destiny so cruel and fate so mocking that it made her want to cry.
That was when Inoue Orihime realized.
She loved him.
Ichigo awoke the next morning, his dreams peaceful and undisturbed – a rare occurrence, given that he would always be haunted by dreams of the night his mother died, nightmares wound around his head by his demon, showing him over and over again those deeds that he had regretted doing.
“Bean… paste.”
Ichigo turned his head to the side that he groaned when he felt his neck creak.
The sunlight shining through the window showed a creamy colored arm and a slender hand perched on his stomach, seemingly holding on to him. His eyes traced the owner of the said hand, and found it to be none other than his wife.
He looked at her in surprise, attempting to pry away the hand from his body, but something held him back.
It was how she looked.
Her lips were pulled up to a smile, like she was dreaming something good out of the bean paste that he had just heard of. Her hair was delightfully tousled and framed her delicate face perfectly. She was a sight to behold, not to mention that she looked ravishing in a night gown that barely covered her body. The blanket that had been bunched around her legs had been no help in covering her up and Ichigo groaned, wondering how someone could sleep so heavily despite the cold of the past night.
Before any evil thoughts stirred by his other self could form, he slowly removed himself from her hand, ignoring the tingle that she had seemingly left on his toned stomach. He caught sight of what apparently was breakfast, laid on the table near the window.
The delightful smell of jam, toast, meat, pancakes and eggs assaulted his senses, making him blatantly aware that he had not eaten anything since lunch yesterday. His stomach growled in appreciation as he settled down a chair and began making himself some sandwiches. The tea that was prepared was still steaming, which meant that it hadn’t been long.
“Kurosaki-sama?” a groggy voice interrupted him in his meal. He looked around as he was in the process of chewing his eggs, his eyes clashing with barely awakened gray orbs.
Orihime felt her vision grew clearer as she caught sight of the person she called for. Before she could even have the grace to blush at her boldness, she succumbed to fits of laughter.
Who wouldn’t laugh when you see someone so hungry that they did not observe proper manners in eating anymore? And by having no proper manners, it meant having smudges of jam around one’s lips and fried eggs dangling from one’s mouth. Not to mention having crumbs sprinkled on one’s neck and chest.
Ichigo frowned and reddened furiously at the laughing woman who struggled to catch her breath on the bed. He hastily tidied himself and swallowed his meal as he lunged to the bed, attempting to exact revenge on the person who insulted him first thing in the morning.
Her laughter faded to amused pleas as he focused himself on tickling her into submission. Tears streamed down her eyes as she tried her best to fight, but her actions failed.
“S-stop…” she said, breathing in hard, still struggling with her giggles.
“I won’t stop unless you apologize,” Ichigo said, grinning like a little boy. “Who are you to laugh at someone who is so famished?”
“I won’t… give!” Orihime gasped, as she was assailed yet again by playful hands going to her sides. That was, until, her stomach gave a loud grumble.
Ichigo’s grin turned to an evil smirk. “Now you’re one to laugh.”
“Eh… ehehehehe,” Orihime laughed feebly, covering her crimson face. “I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“Well, same here,” Ichigo said, getting off of her and helping her up. “So don’t go laughing at me when you feel the same.”
Orihime nodded, her gaze falling observantly on Ichigo. His smile was breathtaking once again. He rarely smiled, and she was grateful and happy that she had the capacity to make him do so. The realization she had last night about her feelings for him was stunning and numbing. She had gone from thinking that she loved Ulquiorra Schiffer to finally realizing that she had deep feelings for her husband, Kurosaki Ichigo. She denied it at first, because she was scared at what those feelings could entail.
She would be hurt, she knew that. She knew that loving him meant taking all the risks for him, but still standing steadfastly by his side. She knew that loving him meant not being loved back, as he was in love with someone else. This was, once again, far from her fantasies. But she was optimistic. She could make everything work, even on her own. She would love enough for the both of them. Everything would be fine and better that way.
Her glazed expression seemed to have disturbed Ichigo, who snapped his fingers between her eyes to jolt her out of her affectionate thoughts.
“Spacing out?” Ichigo said, shaking his head in feigned sadness. “Signs of madness out of starvation. Now the people of this estate won’t take to me well if they found out I starved you to insanity.”
Orihime turned brick red again and said nothing, just smiling contentedly as she ate breakfast with her husband. The thoughts disturbing her heart forgotten. For the time being.
“You look happy,” Kuchiki Rukia said, looking up from a book that she had been reading for an hour.
She had been in the manor’s library, finding solace from an otherwise boring day, reading books that caught her eyes. She had little interest in English literature, but she had understanding of the language. And she had to find a better use for her time, to find something to occupy her tumultuous thoughts about what had happened and what she planned on doing.
Her reading was disturbed as footsteps alerted her to the presence of someone else inside the room. It was Ichigo.
She was surprised to see him wearing a small smile on his face, the creases on his brows effectively decreased. It was years ago since she last saw him smile. She remembered those picnics, their hidden romance – that was the time that she saw him smile. She had made him smile. And he made her smile. Always and forever.
The smile he was wearing at the moment instantly disappeared as his eyes laid upon the voice that summoned them.
“Rukia,” he said in acknowledgement, his tone containing an edge to them that made Rukia’s breath hitch. She was aware that right now, she was not the cause of Ichigo’s smiles. She had been the one erasing them, and she felt her chest tighten at that realization.
“No need to be so uptight around me,” she said, easing the tension between them and inside her by brushing the situation off. It was how she coped with things. She always acted so strong, and it seemed effective enough.
She closed the book in her hands, the plot and everything about it forgotten, as she stared into those chocolate brown eyes that once arrested her with their passion. She felt her legs move from where she sat, standing up and making their way across the room towards him.
Ichigo looked at Rukia, who had closed the leather-bound book in her small hands. She walked towards him purposefully, her wide eyes searching. He felt such longing and regret grip him. He wanted peace for once in his life, but he knew he could never attain it at the moment with her. She always left him missing her more, and that made him empty. He could not understand what this sort of love was, this thing between the two of them. A love that seemed to drain everything away – hope, understanding, happinesss. He could never understand the hurt, but he knew he could and would take it anyway.
“You look confused,” Rukia said, stating the obvious.
He looked away. “I’m always confused.”
“I see,” she said, finally reaching the space between Ichigo and a long furnished table.
She placed her hands on his chest, her eyes taking on a darker shade as she heard his breath hitch in his throat. “Why do you always have to be so confused?”
“Why do you always have to be so guarded?” Ichigo replied, looking at her seriously.
Rukia chuckled. “You know me too well, Ichigo.”
“Apparently I don’t. Not enough, anyway,” he said, removing her hands on him.
Rukia took the sign and looked down. “What do you want to know?”
“Why you left,” he started. “What this request of you from grandfather is exactly, and why he did not grant it. I know that my grandfather is a cruel tyrant who would worm his way out of any contract as long as he can find any loopholes to get out from, but I feel that there’s something you are hiding. I feel like there was something full-proof about this plan that made you agree. I know you, Rukia, as you have said; you could not have fallen for anything that easily.”
Rukia knew that this question would not go unasked. And she had prepared an evasive answer. “I may be cautious as you think I am Ichigo, but I also take risks. And I thought that maybe the king would somehow spare a request from a freedom-loving country and give it back what it deserves.”
Ichigo stared into her eyes, not thoroughly convinced by her answer. But the sincerity those purple depths contained – the hurt and the frustration – showed, and he wanted to comfort her so badly.
He touched her cheeks and stroked the soft skin with his thumb. Her eyes fluttered clothes as she held on to that strong hand, feeling that she had come home after so many years.
His lips slowly laid upon hers, after so many years. They were torn lovers, and this contact felt so gut-wrenching that they could feel that they were both about to explode. They could only steal moments from time. They did not know if God’s will was to keep them separated, that He wanted a greater purpose for the both of them that was why He kept them apart. But as of now, what was human and attached in the both of them could only be enlightened in each other’s company. This is where wrongs would make what they assumed was a right. It felt so right.
“Ichigo,” she sighed into his lips, letting him smell that scent of her breath that he had dreamt of for so long. He wanted to laugh out loud at this reunion, wanted to laugh out loud in question and frustration. Why have we come to this point? I don’t understand. We were never meant to be, but here I am, wanting. So many restraints… loving Rukia had always been exhausting. Should love be like this?
She held on to him, making sure that this was real, that he would not disappear again. She was a fool for letting one incident determine their present circumstance. If she had not run away, frightened, that rainy night, if she had not agreed to a fool’s contract, she would be in Japan, happy and content to be with Ichigo even if everything would still be a lie. Even if everything would still be hanging by a thread.
Her back hit the cold wood of the table. All was forgotten. Her kimono was open for his eyes, her entire soul naked in front of him.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He responded with another passionate kiss, before murmuring a reply. “I love you too.”
“I love you,” the raven-haired woman said, her body entangled in heaps of neglected clothing, her small body pressed down the table of the library.
The orange-haired man kissed her passionately, before whispering back, “I love you too.”
Orihime could feel her chest squeezing her heart out of her body. It was so painful, but she could not tear her eyes from the revolting sight.
She did not understand. They had been happy earlier that day. Her husband had been laughing with her and they shared a wonderful meal together.
But what’s a meal with a stranger compared to the woman he loves? Her thoughts said bitterly, almost cruelly.
Orihime wondered if she loved hurting herself. Instead of fighting for herself by stopping this betrayal or instead of protecting herself by running away, she remained, a maimed and heartbroken woman. She wondered why she always let every problem get the better of herself. She wondered why she always lost.
She had been intent on finding her husband, who seemed to have gone missing after lunch. She had decided to going to the library, where she thought she needed to go since she wanted to read some books herself.
She opened the door quietly, thinking of surprising someone, especially Ichigo, if he was there.
But what she saw surprised her instead.
Why would it come as a surprise though?
She felt loathed tears springing out of her eyes, who were already sore. How long have I been crying?
She watched, feeling bits and pieces of her leave her body as the two people before her were now completely stripped, their limbs entwined in abandonment, their lives engulfed in their own little world of romance and fire.
She knew that if she weren’t in the picture, they could have lived happily. They could have been content. But that was not the case. Orihime did not know if she had the right to defend herself.
Before another moan escaped either one of the lovers’ lips, Orihime finally found the strength to flee.
I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter! Call me a masochist, but the contrast of the scenes made me love creating the whole thing.
Hope you enjoyed it as much as I do! Do leave a review. =)
Lots of authorly love,
Annie
Chapter 19: Chapter 19
Since you all loved (and hated) the 18th chapter so much, I have no choice but to comply to all of your requests and update as much as I can! 🙂 Truly I am a sad masochist in a definition of itself because I enjoyed writing the Ichigo x Rukia scenes. These two always have something unique going on between the two of them – their friendship (manga-wise). So, I’m exploring the IchiRukiverse, trying to get into the fantasies of the most grueling and negative things that trigger my gag reflex. And it seems to be working, plus I’m getting the hang of it!
But IchiHime will still be my romantic pairing muse, despite everything. This is true fanship. :
On to the 19th chapter.
Chapter 19
If Only
Orihime could not count the hours that passed by after what she saw. She merely sat at the balcony of the spacious master suite that was assigned to her and her husband. She had been crying for a good forty minutes and she felt slightly feverish. There was no use trying to weep. There was no use trying to be angry. She just felt empty.
After a small word to Ochi that she did not want to be disturbed for the rest of the day, she had retired to her quarters. The cold night did not do a thing to affect her. If she was cold inside, why would anything be any colder?
She smiled sardonically. Hours ago, all she could hear and feel was her heart being crushed inside. Right now, she could not sense it. Odd. It was as if it was literally taken away.
Who would have thought? She was daft enough to fall in love with the last man she should ever have any romantic attachment to. She had convinced herself that she liked another man, just because he had shown her signs of interest and kindness. She really had no idea what it was like to really be in love in the first place.
However, feeling it now – feeling it for the first time and not being able to anything about it – it ripped her to shreds. She would always be in the hardest of situations. She briefly wondered if she displeased God so badly that she deserved a fate like this. Was she so selfish in running away years ago and leaving her home? Was she, again, selfish that she left her friends and tried to save them? Was she, again and again, selfish that she chose to marry someone she did not even know? She did not understand.
She never wondered if her life was the worst in existence. She did not know if she had the right to complain. There were many who suffered more than she did. There was Tatsuki, who was constantly beat up by her parents until she ran away. She lived in poverty all of her life but was always strong.
Then there was Renji, a man who always lived his life by a thread. Always in fights, always prejudiced. He was a Japanese lieutenant back then, the leader of an entire squadron that fought the British. However a mistake and a false accusation kicked him off his high horse. He too lived in the most drastic conditions afterwards, constantly hiding and ashamed.
Ururu and Jinta, who never knew their parents and were left as toddlers in the streets. They had been beaten up, starved to death and experienced a fate worse than she could ever imagine.
What was this petty pain compared to all of those who were part of her family? To those people who loved her? Orihime stopped crying because she knew she needed to be strong. She knew that there was no more left to give. She knew that if she was steadfast and determined in everything that she did, she would have a face to show. She would live up to her promise to protect those she loved. She would have her honor intact. She might be naïve, but she was learning. And she wanted to learn well and fast.
If she had to learn this way about the real world, then she was fine with it. Love is not perfect. It’s not like any ideal that was imaginable at all. Especially in her circumstance. She could not just snap her fingers and make someone fall in love with her. Only time can tell what was to become of her. But she did not have to rely on one person alone to achieve her happiness and contentment.
She was better than that.
Orihime knew that the last of her tears had already dried well. The traces of what happened were still evident on her swollen eyes though. Strangely enough, she was not angry at her husband. He acted just like any other human – a man with a weakness for the only woman he could ever love. A woman that he could never forget. A woman who just so happens to be under her hospitality right now. She could not be angry that Ichigo went against his own words. He once said before that if she were to have an affair, she should do it in hiding.
She wondered if libraries were good places to hide.
Orihime could not bring herself to be angry at Rukia too. Who was she to blame for her feelings for Ichigo? Wasn’t she feeling the same? The same longing and hope that there could be something amidst all the complexities? Although, the Japanese princess suffered more. She waited for years. Though what Orihime could not understand was how she could back down her word and pride of staying away from Ichigo until she got what she wanted – freedom.
She wondered if Rukia always lived a lie.
But there was really no consistency in this world. This was what she concluded. Love was a violent storm – a combination of two people so caught up in their own worlds that they could leave everything else in a wreck.
Orihime wondered if she should even be caught up in the middle of it all.
Hours and hours, she was engulfed by these thoughts. Trying and finding reasons to be stronger, to be happier. She did not feel emotions of hatred and jealousy. She was hurt, she had to admit. The damage done to her, even though she had just realized her love for her husband for nearly 24 hours, was still huge. She would have to think of ways to deal with it. This was the destiny of the other woman.
Ichigo had been looking for Orihime for hours. He had settled on talking to Yoruichi and having dinner with just the two Japanese representatives. He tried going inside their room, but it was locked. Ochi informed him that the Orihime requested the entire thing to be cleaned and would not be open for another two hours.
Codswallop, Ichigo cursed to himself. He knew that Orihime was in there. She might be doing something weird again. But he had to relent to this strange behavior. After all, this was her house.
And also because he was feeling guilty.
Ichigo could never understand why this gut-wrenching feeling had been haunting him for hours now. If this was his former self, he would have been overjoyed. He had proven that Rukia still loves him. They had just made sweet love. Although he still has a lot of unanswered questions for Rukia it felt like everything should be right. But it wasn’t. And he was annoyed at this feeling.
Is it possible that you could be feeling guilty because you betrayed our princess? A mocking voice said in his head.
Ichigo did not answer. For once, he had nothing to say to his demon. He did not have the courage of words to fight back.
“Ichigo,” Rukia said for the last time. She kissed his sweat-filled face all over, finally laying her swollen lips on his. They kissed passionately, seemingly unable to let go.
When they finally tore apart, Ichigo hurriedly put on his clothes. Rukia seemed to be taking her time as she was watching him while she was fixing up her robe.
“I’m sorry,” she said, startling him. “I should not have left you.”
Ichigo suddenly felt conflicted by this. Rukia always left him hanging. He did not know where he stood by her. Now, after all these years, after all that has been said and done, she was apologizing for what she did. Almost as if all the assurance from her very own lips that she did not regret her past decisions disappeared in a matter of seconds.
“Why are you saying this now?” Ichigo asked. “I do not ask for an apology. I thought you made it clear that you did not regret your decisions.”
Rukia nodded slowly. “That was before,” she whispered, standing up. “Who knows how many years it can take before a proud fool admits her mistake?”
Ichigo did not understand. “So what happened right now, was it a mistake?”
“It did not feel like a mistake to me.”
Ichigo frowned. His gaze swept over to Rukia who was departing with Yoruichi. Dinner was over and he remained seated, unsure of what to do.
Rukia sent him a small and loving smile. A smile he was unable to return. He only stared after her.
“Not sleeping yet?” a gravelly voice said.
Ichigo almost did not recognize who said it until he tore his eyes away from Rukia.
It was Orihime.
Ichigo knew that Rukia was still in the room, as she was halted in her departure with Orihime’s arrival.
“Mistress,” Ochi said, trailing behind Orihime. “I thought – ”
Orihime raised a hand to stop Ochi and gave off a strained smile. “I want to eat, please, Ochi-san.”
“Of course,” the maid relented.
What happened? Ichigo thought, taking in the sight of Orihime. She suddenly looked a hundred years older. Her hair was held up in a makeshift bun, tendrils of hair strewn all over her pale face. Her eyes were bloodshot, as though she had been crying for hours. Ichigo did not miss the trembling action of her arms. She looked ghostly in that light pink gown she had chosen to wear.
She gracefully moved across the room towards the seat on the opposite side of Ichigo. Before she could reach her seat, she was interrupted by Rukia clearing her throat to alert the duchess to their presence.
Orihime, who seemed undeterred in her trance-like state, laid blank eyes at Rukia, who was startled. “Oh, good evening, Kuchiki-san,” she said, in that hoarse voice of hers again that seemed haunting.
“Do you have something to say?” she asked politely, not reacting to the shock-painted expressions on Rukia and Yoruichi’s faces.
“N-nothing,” Rukia mumbled. “We were about to retire anyway.”
“Very well then,” Orihime replied, a sweet smile on her face – a smile that did not reach her eyes.
“Orihime,” Ichigo said, worried. What happened to her? There was something off. He could not think of a single probable cause to this. She had been bubbly and laughing earlier that day. And now the young woman that faced him was like a walking doll – a beat up doll.
“Good evening, Kurosaki-sama,” she addressed him, sitting down.
“Your meal, Orihime-sama,” Choujirou said, suddenly sweeping into the room, his face wreathed in smiles. He laid down the courses carefully in front of Orihime, bowed then left, ushering the rests of the servants with him.
Orihime cheerfully and energetically ate, as Ichigo observed. But her eyes were still empty. He could tell that much. Living with her for weeks now, he knew that Orihime’s eyes were an exact reflection to how she felt. Her heart was always in those gray orbs. And right now, he could not sense anything, except for the obvious crimson indication that she had been crying.
“You,” he started, almost reluctantly, “have been crying.”
Orihime looked up at him then cocked her head to the side. “What makes you think so?”
Ichigo almost rolled his eyes at this question. “Your eyes. They’re abnormally swollen.”
“Hmm,” was all she said, putting a piece of stake in her mouth.
“Dammit Orihime,” Ichigo said, suddenly standing up. “What’s wrong with you?”
Orihime stopped eating and regarded Ichigo with eyes so eerie that it made him rethink his outburst. There he was, genuinely worried and upset by how she was acting, and she suddenly looks at him as if she does not know him.
“I am simply having dinner, Kurosaki-sama,” she answered, proceeding on slicing her steak. “Why would that bother you?”
“I… asked you,” Ichigo said, stressing every word, “what’s wrong? You can’t lie to me, Orihime. You have been crying.”
Orihime finally put her utensils down and stood up. She walked over to where he was, her head bent. The shadows hid her face completely and Ichigo could not see what was going on with her.
When she finally reached him, she raised her hand.
SLAP!
Ichigo looked at her, aghast. Before he could say anything, a pair of gray, tear-filled eyes halted him.
“You should have let this matter pass,” Orihime said, her voice barely audible. “If you had not asked, I would not have done anything.”
“W-wha – ?” he started.
“I saw you,” she said.
Ichigo felt as though ice had been dropped everywhere on him. There could only be one obvious reason as to why Orihime was like this. There could only be one…
“I have no right to be angry,” Orihime continued, her eyes piercing into his. “For God’s sake, I am not even angry at all,” laughing briefly, “I’m just… disappointed.”
Disappointed?
“A noble would never disrespect his spouse’s home,” Orihime choked out. She knew this was the least of the reasons why she did that towards Ichigo. He just brought her over the edge. She was being gracious and brave about this whole ordeal. But there he goes, asking her, looking at her with eyes filled with concern. He looked as if he really cared for her. And it was bending her heart and will again. “You are a man of your word, are you not?”
No answer escaped from Ichigo’s stunned lips.
“Then please, I beg of you,” Orihime said, tears escaping again from her eyes as she began sobbing, “do not do this to me.”
Do not do this to me…
“I have understood and accepted that you will forever be in love with Kuchiki Rukia,” she said, those words and the name leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. “But don’t do those… vile and revolting things inside my house. Not where everyone can see. You told me before that betrayal should be best left in the dark. Well, I’m saying this to you now.”
With one last electrifying and numbing stare she said, “If you still want to honor our agreement and would want me as your wife, I am willing to stay. You can love anyone you please, but do not do things so carelessly. You can hurt someone else’s honor.”
Someone else’s heart…
Orihime walked away.
“What did he do?” Barragan said, his voice deadpan.
“He… slept,” a masked man said, unable to meet the furious eyes of the king, “with the Japanese princess, Your Highness.”
Barragan felt a nerve snap inside of him. But he kept his eruptive temper in check. “Does the duchess know?”
“Yes. She discovered them.”
Ah, why does Ichigo put himself in the direst of situations? Barragan thought angrily. He knew that the person who was responsible for bringing Kuchiki Rukia to England planned for things like this to happen. Determined as his grandson was, he still had Masaki’s heart – a heart so full of love that could be easily swayed.
Barragan had cherished Masaki’s heart, but it was what led her to downfall. He had been at fault too, if he had been better in handling such a fragile young woman. But somehow, there was something about Ichigo and the Kuchiki girl’s love affair that did not convince him. When he saw the two them, there was no trace of the secret passionate romance that the reports had told him. It was more convincing to him that there was something deeper between his grandson and his wife, Inoue Orihime.
He had always been a good judge of character and a very perceptive person. This was what allowed him to delve deep into his enemy’s weaknesses and sweep the rug from under their feet. The way that the duchess acted was an exact replica of Masaki – a pure and caring girl, someone whom Ichigo could have easily coerced into marriage because she sympathized with him.
But now his foolish grandson was hurting the only thing that could save his life. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the spy. He always kept a look out for his grandson. He was prone to stray off his destined path, and as his grandfather, Barragan should be there to keep him on track.
“Call Soi Fong,” he barked at his attendant.
“Immediately, Your Highness,” the middle-aged man said, hurrying out of sight.
Aizen Sousuke smirked.
“So filthy,” he stressed, sipping a cup of tea. “Like Masaki…”
He had just received a report that Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia did an unspeakable act. And it seemed that the Inoue woman found out. Without him even starting his plan, Masaki’s bastard son was already brewing his own troubles.
“Ulquiorra,” he called out to his stepson, who was standing in the shadows of the dark study.
“Hai, Aizen-sama?” Ulquiorra answered monotonously, his green eyes luminous and blank.
“This duchess,” Sousuke said, staring at his tea with interest, “is she in love with Kurosaki?”
Ulquiorra, for once in his life, did not know the answer. He had just heard that Ichigo had a tumble in with Rukia in the library of the Inoue estate and that apparently, Orihime had witnessed it all. It was not strange for the woman to be wandering in the wrong places at the wrong times. But about her being in love with Ichigo? He did not know for sure.
He did not want to know.
The auburn-haired beauty had always been concerned for Ichigo. No sane woman would marry a stranger out of pure sympathy and good intentions. No sane woman would stay with that man in a loveless marriage. No sane woman would still stick to her husband after he cheated on her and that she was there to witness the whole ordeal.
The thought of her being in love with Ichigo, it somehow sickened him. He was not prone to any emotion, yet here he was, detesting the possibility that Orihime could have any romantic emotions towards the man he considered as a friend. But he had always loyally followed his stepfather. He had been his and his mad mother’s hope. Demented as Aizen Sousuke was, he knew what he wanted. And Ulquiorra wanted to be someone recognizable – not just someone to be treated as trash. And the young man knew that if he followed Sousuke, he might reach something.
Even if it meant betraying her.
“I do now know, Aizen-sama,” Ulquiorra said.
Sousuke noticed the span of time it took before Ulquiorra answered. He stood up swiftly and walked towards his astute stepson.
“Are you doubtful of your answer, Ulquiorra?” he asked.
“That woman,” the young man said, “is someone that no one can be sure of.”
“I see,” Sousuke said, scratching his thin thoughtfully. “Very well. Just keep on instructing the men to watch the Inoue household carefully.”
Ulquiorra nodded and left.
Sousuke smirked. You think I do not know, Ulquiorra?
“Hilarious,” Grimmjow said as he cackled. Edorad brought him great news. His oaf of a cousin, Kurosaki Ichigo, was destroying his chances in being King of England on his own.
“I don’t understand this love they are all so worried about,” the blue-haired young man said, his hands on his back and his head tilted upwards, observing the light coming from the chandelier that adorned his English home.
“I guess I should not complain. Love makes people do the most absurd things,” he ended, still laughing.
Neliel tu Odershvank listened to her husband, feeling crestfallen. Grimmjow has always been cold-hearted, but she would never admit to herself that he was a being incapable of loving. But these statements that came out from his mouth, it hurt her. It was like he did not believe in love at all. He even laughed at it.
I love you. Does that make me absurd?
“Neliel!” Grimmjow bellowed, startling the young woman who was sitting on the elegant couch. “Dumb woman. Do not let me call you twice!”
“I’m sorry, Grimmjow-sama,” Neliel said, bowing her head.
“I was asking you if you agree that women should only be present to decorate a man’s arm and to warm his bed,” he said with an evil smirk.
“Uhm,” Nell began, wanting to disagree so badly but could not, because he did not want to disagree with Grimmjow and displease him.
“Answer me!”
“Y-yes,” the dauphine answered, her eyes lonely.
“Good,” he said, turning his back on her. “You have always been a good fuck.”
Nell could not take it anymore. She stood up abruptly, knocking over the teapot that lay at a coffee table beside her.
Grimmjow whirled around angrily as his men stared at her, appalled.
“What do you – ?” he started with such force, about to hit her.
Nell stood her ground firmly, looking Grimmjow squarely in the eyes. “Women are put by a man’s side to be embraced – to be loved by his arm and protected by the other. Women are put beside a man to be treated as an equal with emotions. Women are put with their husbands on bed to be made love to and to give love in return.”
Grimmjow scoffed. “Now where did you get your brains to speak?”
Another silent gash tore Nell’s heart open. She stared at Grimmjow with all the hurt, disgust and pity she could show. This stopped the mad dauphin, who gaped at the green-haired beauty.
“I always had my brains,” she retorted. “I just pretended you were the one who had them.”
With this, the proud and relieved Neliel tu Oderschvank stomed out of the room, leaving a stunned audience.
I know this might cost me a lot, she thought as she hurried off to her room. But I have to open your eyes, Grimmjow-sama.
Does she know?
Rukia had been pacing in her room for the better half of an hour now, thinking deeply. She should not be fazed if the Inoue girl knew that she and Ichigo had sex. But there was something unsettling in her. It was as if her conscience was disturbed.
I should not be disturbed! She convinced herself. But she could not. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew that she could never truly hate Inoue Orihime. She was not bad. It could have been a lot easier if the duchess was loathsome, then there would be more and simpler reasons to despise her.
But, curse the heavens above, Inoue Orihime was far from loathsome. She was kind, caring and innocent. Even though she was aware that Rukia had a past with her husband, she let the matter slide. She was friendly with her, a Japanese.
Rukia could only conclude that maybe she was like this because she did not really love Ichigo and was in all of this because of the convenience it presented on both parts. She had also associated with Japanese people for so long that it would be easy to believe that she had grown accustomed to their ways and that she had grown an attachment to several people.
The petite woman had a feeling that Orihime even wanted to be friends with her. She was not a cold woman, but it would be difficult to be friends with a woman whom you considered as the reason for your unhappiness. Inoue Orihime was the hindrance for her to be completely together with Ichigo.
But wasn’t your love with Ichigo fraught with obstacles in the first place?
Yes, but she knew that they had this unspoken promise that when this whole chaos was over, they would be together. They would not be separated by distinction, race or titles. They would just be Ichigo and Rukia.
A knock on her door startled her from her thoughts.
She opened the door.
It was Orihime.
“What are you doing here?” Rukia said, composing herself.
The candle Orihime was holding illuminated her ghostly face. She did not wait to be let in, she walked inside of the room.
She regarded Rukia with defeated and drawn eyes.
“I apologize for coming at this late hour,” she said, her voice a bit better than what Rukia heard when they were in the dining hall.
Rukia did not comment on this. She just stood there, holding the door and waiting for what Orihime has to say.
“I want to ask you a favor,” Orihime said in a hushed voice.
“What is it?” Rukia asked warily, observing her expression.
“Leave us alone.”
RAWR CATFIGHT! Heeheeheeheeeee… Ikr.
Love you all for reviewing! Review, review, review! It propels me. =)
Lots of angsty love,
Angsty Annie
Chapter 20: Chapter 20
I guess I did something really good, ne?
I am absolutelyspeechlessat the quantity and quality of reviews I received. Thank you so much for getting hooked on this story (that is my immortal purpose after all). Thank you so much for the reviewers who praised my writing and over-all body of work. But, I have to warn those who will read ALL of my works for the first time – that I am not good when it comes to technical stuff back then. I have a lot of typos and inconsistencies that make me want to scream out when I read back. And my chapters back then were pretty short. So, there… you have been warned! Nevertheless, thank you and please leave your love through a review. *puppy dog eyes*
Sooo, I’m here to offer an explanation and enlightenment as to why Inoue Orihime acted the way she did the past chapter. For some that were surprised, I could half-agree with you. But I always had, in my heart, embodied Orihime as the type who would not bow down when she was the one being attacked. Kubo Tite actually did not give this character enough justice for her to show herself protecting her own. But there’s something there. Remember that Orihime slapped Ulquiorra back then when he talked out of turn. So there, I incorporated that scene here. Despite the innate kindness Orihime has, she has her limits. And frankly speaking she acted like this all for the most honorable and selfless of reasons. I reiterated in the story,she is not angry.She’s just dishonored. =)
And for those who think that I’m dirtying Ichigo and Rukia as individuals, no. Ichigo will forever be my most favorite manga protagonist ever. Not to mention that I always drool at the sight of him (haha).[And to those of you who know me on Bleach Asylum, you all know that I was previous owner of the Ichigo Fan Club. HAHA] I just needed to make him less of a human right now. I’ve built up Orihime’s thoughts in the previous chapter so I can put a balance in the bitterness a reader could have had for this character. Also, for Rukia – she’s like my alter ego in the anime world. If you met me in real life, you would swear you can see Rukia. Small, same hair style. Like, yeah, I’m a walking Rukia, but less bad ass and no shinigami powers. HAHA!
And to those who greeted me Happy Thanksgiving, thank you! Just had to announce that I migrated to Canada, so I am no longer in the Philippines. Been here since October 24th. =) Forgot to say that.
Sorry for the long author’s note. I was initially planning on replying to all of your reviews, but then I thought, who would want to read this? I know you want me to go on with my story. (And God knows, I do too!) So here it is…faster and better than expected.
Special note to Crystal Dawn – you may have unlocked A LOT about this story in your review. Your analysis of Orihime’s station in this situation is astounding.
Chapter 20
Vile and Vindictive
“I’m sorry? What?” Rukia said, making sure what she heard was right.
“I said,” Orihime said, breathing deeply, “leave us alone.”
Orihime had been sitting on the edge of her bed for an hour before she confronted Rukia. The opening of the door signaled that Ichigo had entered the chamber. His footsteps were muffled by the Persian rug that covered the entire room.
The auburn-haired woman did not bother to look up when a shadow hovered over her.
“Orihime,” Ichigo said, sounding unsure.
For the first time in his life, Ichigo felt remorse. Angry and gripping remorse. There was something about hurting Orihime that he absolutely detested. If he knew that this was how it felt like, he should not have slept with Rukia in the first place.
“I love you too,” he had said to Rukia.
Somehow this statement left him with no spark. There was no intensity when he said it. It was a dry and casual response. He did not understand this himself, but he still succumbed to Rukia’s passion. It was because that he finally had something concrete to hold on. Ichigo had always wanted permanence and security in his life.
Rukia’s moment of confession somehow pulled him out from the sense of insecurity he felt when he was with her. He was always unsure whenever he was with her. Ever since they first professed their love. Their stolen moments were anything but free. They were, as he called it, stolen. Something stolen could never belong entirely to someone.
There was always caution and guilt. And even though he would forget whenever they were having fun, he was always reminded. There was always a crushing fear at the end of every encounter.
And Rukia would always tell him to be brave. She would readily correct him if he faltered. He never had the chance to show his weaknesses towards Rukia. He had to be a pillar. There were times when he wondered if Rukia even needed him. She was always so strong and independent – always in a world of her own. They treated each other more like siblings than lovers, whenever they were together. There would always be a youthful awkwardness whenever they tried to be romantic.
But this sudden thrust to the romantic side of Rukia left him stunned. It was as if those moments of insecurity had been wiped out. This was the reason why he jumped in without second thought.
That was when he forgot her. Orihime.
Orihime was someone he was not sure of either, however he felt sure. He felt like she was going to stay with him forever, even though she did not have to. The raging emotions that he felt whenever he was with her was something he formerly attributed to the fact that his demon desired her. However, he was to be proven wrong when he desired her and when she had made such a memorable imprint on his mind, that night in the middle of the oceans when they made love. He had been so frantic that he might lose her. He had been so scared.
Orihime was the only person who witnessed his demon more than once. But even so, she was the only person capable of bringing him back. She was the only person whom he swore to protect. She was the only person that gave him the courage to smile with abandonment – to feel lighthearted and somehow satisfied. Satisfied despite this dank and planned life that he lived.
Orihime gave him a sense of purpose by sticking by his side. She gave him hope without even trying – with her warm smile, the twinkle of her gray eyes, her random antics. She was capable of bringing the sun into his life, and he was caught off guard by this ability. She had been amazingly caring despite being a stranger and despite her being forced into this whole arrangement.
Orihime had been the one to embrace and comfort him despite abusing her. She was the one who softly caressed his monster and showed her own heart to his beast. She was the one who made him feel whole and forgiven.
What were those feelings? He never felt it with Rukia.
And yet he still found a way to destroy Orihime by being with Rukia.
He never felt this overwhelming sadness and pain for hurting someone. And he was angry at himself.
This singular act of betrayal made him feel the worst emotions that he ever had, even worse than the night when he hurt Rukia.
“Orihime,” he said again, this time summoning gray eyes into his.
She waited for what he had to say.
“I – ” he began, kneeling in front of her and holding her hands. Proud and driven, he never once did this for anyone. And not because he wanted her to stay so that he can have his crown, he just wanted her to be by his side. “I’m sorry.”
To his surprise, Orihime smiled. But that smile was lonely and drained of the sunshine she always exuded. “You love her, am I right?”
Ichigo did not answer. I’m not even sure how to answer that.
Orihime looked away from those dejected brown eyes. She could not bear to see him like this. She still loved him and she had forgiven him. However, she did not want to be near him. Not at this moment. Not when she was in such turmoil. She just needed him to know what he had to do. And what she needed right now.
“I have given up everything for this,” Orihime whispered, retracting her hands from Ichigo’s hold. “In order to save my friends. I never took a chance on Ulquiorra-sama, because you told me so. And only to find out that I have never really loved him.”
Ichigo’s head jerked up to find her eyes. Lightning should strike him now because a weight was suddenly removed from his soul when she said that last statement. And he was bewildered as to why he felt that way.
“I had to leave the life I was accustomed to,” she continued, her eyes taking on a far away look. “You might find it silly for someone like me to actually love living in the slums. But despite being physically harmed for our debts, I was really content. That sort of peace was a healing balm for the hunger and poverty. There was nothing more I could ask for.”
“But as much as I was happy, I know that my friends wanted more. They did not have a life like me. They wanted to escape the poverty and ridicule. They had ambition. And who am I to deprive them of that? I cannot let my friends be hurt forever. That is why, I decided to come to you and be your wife.”
Orihime took a deep breath, trying to stop another fresh assault of tears. “But,” the tears came, “I never imagined that this would be much, much more painful. I tried being gracious. I tried to do just as what we had agreed on. I endured every bit of suffering and loneliness. What’s worse, I became the wife of a man who could never love me back.”
Ichigo felt shaken. For the first time, he was hearing Orihime’s sentiments. Now he recalled that there was never a time when Orihime shared her woes. She was a positive soul. She had been listening and witnessing his woes. And he did nothing to heal hers, or even help for the tiniest bit.
“I just realized last night that you are the person I love,” she said, looking into his eyes.
A myriad of sensations passed through Ichigo at the moment. He wanted to shout in joy. He wanted to scream in pain. He wanted to engulf Orihime in his arms, but he knew he could not. Again, he destroyed something meaningful in his life, just like he always did. He did not know how to react to this confession, but the burden of the events had weighed itself more on him. He had now hurt her heart, not just her honor. This was what he realized.
Her face never looked so beautiful, but painfully so. It was like loving him had taken a huge toll on her.
Orihime felt her heart break once again at the sight of him. He looked despondent. His brown eyes melted at what she said. This left her perplexed. Why would you look like that? Stop doing that!
She wanted to bellow these words into his face, but she could not. She felt numb. Her heart was the only one left with feeling. Her skin was like ice. Her eyes were like heavy cushions about to close up.
“I have never been jealous or loathing my entire life,” she confessed, clasping her hands on her lap. “I understand that you will always cherish Kuchiki Rukia and that I can never replace her in your heart. But I want to protect myself. So please, do not do i
The Crafty Cracker Corner 