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queenofchalicesTitle: The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 6 - Judgment
Series: Bleach
Rating: R
Warnings: AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST
Spoilers: This is AU. We don't need spoilers, where we're going.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. The LiveJournal format that you'll probably be reading this in (if you're one of my friends) is rough draft and is subject to revision. Consider this a 'sneak peek'. If something sits the wrong way with you, let me know. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.
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This seemed to be happening to him with frightening regularity.
The first thing Ichigo was aware of was the feeling of swaying and floating. It felt as though he was being carried by some other power; not a person, but something much larger than he. As senses began to return to his body, he began to become aware of other things. He was laying on a cold, hard surface. The only cushioning was a bit of scratchy straw here and there; it was digging into his cheek at the moment. There was a rough rumbling in the background which slowly grew louder as he became more and more awake. He could feel the vibrations from the floor underneath him; a particularly jolting bump convinced him that he must be in a vehicle of some kind. But most importantly, he couldn't feel the oppressive light from those damned spotlights anymore.
Edging one eye carefully open, his vision slowly began to focus. The compartment he was in was dark and cool. He was a bit thankful for that, of all things; he thought those bright lights were going to burn his eyes straight out of his head. They still ached a bit, to be sure, but it was nowhere near as acute. In fact, it seemed as though his vision had returned entirely to normal from its demonic sharpness; sure enough, he could feel his leather band around his wrist again. Someone had replaced his inhibitor while he was out.
"Kurosaki-kun?" Her voice was soft and cracked a bit around the edges as she spoke. "Sado-kun, I think he's waking up!"
Ichigo rolled slowly onto his side, turning to face Orihime. As her face swam into focus, he could see the light from streetlights outside passing gently across her like ghosts. As they passed another, he noticed the light shining off her eyes and cheeks. She'd been crying? Had they done something to her?
"Inoue? Are you hurt?" He watched her shake her head in the negative. His face scrunched a bit in confusion as he tried to sit up; if she wasn't hurt, why did she look like she was in pain? His thoughts were jolted from that particular path by the realization that his arms were bound behind him. He wobbled a bit on his way to a sitting position because it had thrown his balance off. Seeing his difficulty in sitting, Orihime leaned forward to place a hand on his shoulder and help him up.
"She put another spell on your hands to keep you from trying to get away while the van is moving," Orihime said quietly. Ichigo grit his teeth; he swore to himself that that midget had better hope he never got his hands free. Orihime's hand moved around to his back, rubbing soothingly as it did. It was odd; by this simple action, he felt some of his irritation siphon off, her cool hand smoothing his frazzled nerves and making him calmer.
"Are you hurt anywhere?" she asked, that pained expression flitting across her face again. Ichigo took note of it for the second time. It was then that it hit him; it was worry - more specifically, it was worry for him. He pulled up a weak smile for her. It might not be convincing, but he at least had to try to assuage her fears.
"I'm fine, Inoue," he said, his voice scratchy and unsure, "I just have a scratch on my leg and a headache from those lights. That's all." Her eyes searched his face for a second before deciding his answer was good enough and moving to his leg.
"They did that on purpose," a deep voice came from across the compartment. Ichigo looked over to see Chad sitting in the opposite corner of the van from him. He'd replaced his necklace, sealing his demonic power. His arms were their normal, tanned color again, the snake and winged heart tattoo barely visible on his left shoulder in the shadows.
"What, the lights?" He couldn't mean the wound on his leg from Ishida; of course that one was done on purpose. But what did he mean, they did the spotlight on purpose?
"When you've got your limiter off, your vision's more sensitive. Bright lights are painful." He tapped one long finger against the messy brown hair strewn across his temple. Ichigo wanted to slap his forehead with his palm; of course a patrol unit would use spotlights to make criminals freeze. And those two jackasses had their backs turned to the lights the entire time, so they weren't looking directly at them. It made a scary amount of sense.
"Of course," Ichigo groaned. His irritated thoughts were interrupted, however, by a tingling sensation on his thigh. As he looked down, he noticed that the arrow wound Ishida had left him with was enveloped in a small dome of golden light. Slowly, as though the light was erasing its existence, the wound closed. It was the same color, the same sparkling energy, as the shield Orihime had provided him with earlier, and in realizing this, his head snapped up to regard her with surprise.
For her part, Orihime looked just as stunned as Ichigo did. She watched the small dome in fascination until the wound closed, upon which the paper-thin light dispersed, two glowing points of light bundling at the edges before zipping back to her glittering hairpins. As she noticed Ichigo's eyes studying her, she flushed and looked away.
"How did you..." he trailed off, unable to contain his fascination. Was this a demonic power? And if so, her hairpins were obviously her inhibitors, but how could she produce an effect like that without removing them? Ichigo knew he certainly couldn't do anything like that with his wristband still on.
"I... I don't know!" she exclaimed in something akin to frustration, "I don't know how I made that shield earlier, either!" Her face scrunched up, chin tucked against her chest, fists balled up against her thighs and his back. She was visibly ready to cry. Ichigo began to panic - if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was to see a girl cry.
"Don't... Don't worry about it, okay! It's no big deal! We'll figure it out, right?" He spoke quickly, hoping to head off any waterworks at the pass. She looked up at him again, unscrewing her face and sniffling a tiny bit. The innocent look she gave him caused warmth to spread across his chest; her open, honest face pricked him somewhere deep, giving rise to a protective urge he usually reserved solely for his sisters. This was different, though. It was less brotherly, and more of something else that he couldn't exactly name.
"Okay... Right..." she muttered, lowering her eyes. The urge to embrace her came upon him suddenly and unbidden; he wanted to cradle her in his arms until she no longer felt scared or unsafe. The bonds on his wrists now felt unbearably restrictive and cruel.
As if responding to Ichigo's thoughts, Orihime seemed to only just then realize how close they were to one another. She sat upright with a jerk, taking her hand off his back as though she'd been burned. She balled her hands into her lap and stared at them, wide-eyed. Ichigo could've sworn she was blushing in the dim light.
"Umm... That is... I..." she stammered, twisting her skirt in her hands. Ichigo cleared his throat and looked the other way; he figured that was the polite thing to do at the moment. Suddenly, his cheek really, really needed to be scratched.
The awkward exchange came to an end as the van jerked to a halt. The two teenagers tipped towards each other, Orihime steadying herself on Ichigo's shirt to keep from falling into his lap entirely. His heart was beating so hard in his ears that he barely registered the sounds of slamming doors from the passenger cab of the vehicle, or the sound of footsteps outside the cargo bay. All Ichigo had time to notice was the way his face was burning and the way her hand was resting against his chest. A long, long moment passed as Orihime seemed to gather her courage enough to slowly look up at him.
"We're here," Chad said quietly, breaking the tension of the heated moment between his cabinmates. Ichigo's eyes snapped over to regard his friend, who was in turn watching the compartment doors and waiting. He didn't have to wait long; a few seconds later, Renji threw the doors open, the dim lights of a large estate filtering through the back of the van. The redhead's original sour look was briefly replaced with surprise, his tattooed eyebrows arching towards his goggles.
"Geez," he muttered, "We tie your hands behind your back, and you've still got game." Ichigo was sure his face was the color of his own hair now and quickly heading towards the shade Renji was sporting. For her part, Orihime jerked back, her hands returning to their spot in her lap and her chin to its resting place on her chest. The loss of her contact only irritated Ichigo more.
"Sh--! Shut up!" he bellowed, "It's not my fault you don't know how to drive!" Renji's face lost all amusement as a vein sprouted on his temple.
"I'll have you know I got a perfect score on my driver's test!" he yelled back in indignation. Before he could say anything else, though, his head pitched sharply forward, revealing the petite black-haired girl behind him.
"Stop screaming in Nii-sama's driveway!"
Ichigo noted with narrowing eyes that Rukia was being just as loud as they were.
"Oww, Rukia! He started it!" Renji protested, pawing his head where Rukia had hit him with her tiny fist. Rukia seemed largely unimpressed.
"Oh, grow up, Renji," she said flatly before turning to their prisoners, "You three, get down and follow me." Ichigo reluctantly did as he was told, glaring mutinously all the while. If she'd just take that spell off his hands, he'd really give her something to follow.
As soon as he was down from the back of the van, Ichigo turned to check on Orihime and Chad. Chad had already hopped out, giving Renji a nod as he did so. The ponytailed teenager huffed and looked away; the thought that he had gotten punished for not finishing him off when he had the chance gave Ichigo a secret, small feeling of satisfaction. As for Orihime, she climbed down with some effort, landing next to Ichigo with a tiny squeak.
"You alright?" he asked her quietly, ignoring their jailers for the moment. She regarded him silently with wide eyes, nodding in the affirmative before this once again caught Renji's ire.
"Less flirting, more walking," he barked, herding the trio around the van and up the large driveway. Ichigo felt his ears burn, but bit back the urge to argue again; it was only prolonging the inevitable. Besides, Inoue's hand was clutching the hem of his shirt hard. He knew she was probably more afraid than he could possibly be at the moment; he couldn't even imagine how hard this all was on her, and he knew it. He didn't want to cause more stress for her.
Those thoughts receded as soon as he got a good look at the grounds to which they'd been transported. First and foremost, Ichigo noted that there wasn't much light in the landscaping. That probably went back to what Chad had mentioned, he realized; why would a houseful of demons need much light outside at night? Even so, after another few seconds, he noticed his vision had completely adjusted anyway.
Now that his eyes were properly dilated, he could see a bit clearer. The van had pulled along the side of the house - Ichigo guessed they weren't allowed to enter though the front - and they were now approaching a side door with a keypad set into the wall beside it. The door itself was a stark difference from the rest of the decor. It was flat and dark, probably made of steel or some other solid metal. The wall it was set into, however, was made of wood and looked quite traditional. In fact, everything they'd seen of this estate thus far - the shrubbery, the trees, the landscaping, the outside of the house, the sloping roofs, the patios, the railings, the paper windows - was completely, traditionally Japanese. Even though the exterior of the large estate looked frail and ancient, Ichigo suspected there was much more to it than they could visibly tell; an invisible undercurrent, not quite visible at the corners of his vision, flowing through the walls like some kind of foreign electricity. He wondered if it was technological... or something more sinister.
Rukia turned her back to their captives to punch a code into the keypad; it wasn't as if Ichigo had any misconceptions about her lack of attention. He knew just exactly how far he could get in such a place with his hands bound. And if he didn't, Renji was at the tail of their little procession and would quickly disabuse him of any such notions anyway.
The plastic buttons on the keypad flashed green to signal that Rukia's code was valid, and the steel door slid open, revealing a dark corridor beyond. The only thing that Ichigo could see in the interior of the house was the gleam of moonlight and dim garden lights shining off a well-polished wooden floor. As they were herded inside the dark hallway, the metal door slid shut behind them with a silky, shifting noise, leaving the group in pitch blackness. Ichigo could feel Inoue's hand tugging more insistently at his shirt at the loss of the feeble light to which they'd finally grown accustomed; the bonds around his wrists felt tighter than ever as he cursed himself silently for dragging her into this little drama.
Small footsteps resounded and echoed directly in front of Ichigo, moving away from him, and after another few seconds he heard the snapping of fingers. A row of glass sconces fastened to the walls sprang to life with bluish-white flickering flames. The light was little better than that outside, but it was far preferable to the darkness that had engulfed them only seconds ago.
Now that the hallway had been lit, Ichigo could clearly see it for the first time. As he suspected, the floor was polished wood laid out in the traditional style. The stark corridor was lined on either side with similarly sealed wooden paneling from which the sconces were hung, and farther down the hall, he could see paper sliding doors set into the wood. The pale light flickered eerily across the smooth, glossy floors, giving Ichigo the overall impression of a house that was so tidy, so meticulously well-kept, that it might as well have been an Edo-period replica of a lord's manor.
As they began to follow Rukia's retreating form down the hallway, Ichigo noticed a slight shiver in the air beside his shoulder. He looked down to see Orihime, eyes on the floor, trembling and holding herself. She was shaking badly enough that he'd felt it even being as far from her as he was. For a brief moment, he could swear he even heard her teeth chattering.
"Inoue?" he whispered, trying not to draw their captors' attention any more than necessary.
"It's cold," she muttered back, almost so softly that Ichigo couldn't hear her through the chattering of her teeth. "It's so cold..."
Ichigo fretted quietly as they walked. It wasn't warm in this building by any means, but it certainly wasn't cold, either. It wasn't cold enough outside for her to have caught such a chill, either. The possibility occurred to him that she was in shock and suffering from poor circulation, but even that didn't seem to make sense; yes, everything that was happening was frightening and stressful, but was it bad enough to send her into shock?
"Here." The deep voice came from behind, tan hands reaching out to drape the large wool school jacket he'd been carrying over Orihime's shoulders. She pulled it closed towards her chest with shaking hands as Ichigo looked over his shoulder to see Chad offering the jacket to her. He gave his best friend a weary smile.
"Thanks, Chad," he said softly. Ichigo was so preoccupied with this little sideshow that he almost didn't notice that Rukia had stopped in front of a large set of inlaid wooden doors. He caught himself just before colliding with her backside. She didn't even turn to acknowledge him.
'She thinks she's so much better than us,' he thought mutinously, his eyes narrowing on the back of her black-tressed head. If the situation wasn't as dire as it was, he'd have popped off some smart-mouthed comment or planted his foot squarely in her backside. As it was, though, he was holding himself back intently; he didn't care what they did to him, but his friends shouldn't be punished because of his misbehavior.
"Nii-sama," Rukia finally spoke to the door, "We're here."
"Your brother's a door?" Ichigo asked dryly, finally unable to hold it back any longer. The next thing he felt wasn't exactly regret; it was a sharp, stinging pain from the tiny foot that had just made such a bruising impact with his toes.
Before she could say anything, though, Rukia's head perked up as though she'd heard a sound beyond the range of Ichigo's hearing. His eyes widened as the doors seemed to swing inward of their own volition.
"Try to look impressed," Renji muttered under his breath to him, too softly for Rukia to hear, "They like that sort of thing." Ichigo blinked in surprise for a second; was Renji actually being... friendly? Well, regardless of what was on the other side of the door, Ichigo actually was surprised now. He figured he just might be the lesser of two evils to Renji and turned back to watch Rukia enter the room now opened before them.
The room itself was nothing impressive; if anything it was mostly just dark and spacious, something like Ichigo imagined a boardroom would look. The first thing he noticed was the set of floor lamps situated at the far end of the room. They were lit with low, flickering red flames that danced ever so slightly at the change in air pressure the open doors had caused. The walls were hung with heavy, deep red drapes, their velvet consistency causing deep shadows to lay in their folds. The light from the lamps gave the walls the impression of being painted in running blood - an impression that Ichigo tried not to think too hard about. In the middle of the room, there was situated a long, dark table, probably made of cherry wood or mahogany. Tall, black, high-backed chairs ran along either side, all but four of them unoccupied.
The most noticeable figure was, of course, the one situated at the end of the table. He was an ancient man, bald but for a white mustache and a beard that trailed down his chest, wrapped in cross-crossing ribbons. His visible skin was scarred all over, probably from years of battle, and had begun to droop and wrinkle just a bit as it stretched over the muscled frame beneath. The firelight still provided the shadows that spoke of protruding blue veins beneath the parchment of skin; Ichigo thought that if he got closer to the old man, he would be able to see the network of veins running the length of his arms. Beside his seat, his gnarled hand protruded from the sleeve of his black robes, holding the end of a large wooden staff. Ichigo immediately took him to be the leader of the group; aside from appearing much, much older than the other three, his countenance and bearing quietly bespoke dominance and authority.
To his right, Ichigo could see the one that could only be Rukia's older brother. His shoulder-length hair was the same glossy black shade as hers, just as his eyes held the same slant and deep color. He was just as graceful, just as stern as his younger sister, but much more refined. Aside from sharing the same slick, black hair, their countenances were eerily similar. The male Kuchiki had such a regal bearing, such poise and elegance, that Ichigo immediately recalled what Renji had said on the rooftop: this was the head of the House of Pride. It then occurred to him how odd it was for someone like Renji to work for someone like this; an odd couple indeed.
Across from Rukia's brother, on the old man's left, there was a man who looked to be no older than thirty-five. His wavy, mouse-brown hair fell to his ears on either side of his pale face, which was dominated by a black pair of square glasses. He smiled warmly at the group as they entered and Ichigo almost felt at ease for a moment. Even though he knew he shouldn't get his hopes up, he almost entertained the notion of appealing to this man's kindness to let them go. Almost as soon as he thought that, though, he caught the look the person beside the brown-haired man was giving them and decided against that.
The last person at the table looked to be a few years younger than Ichigo, and certainly no older than his sisters. Even at the distance they were standing from the table, Ichigo could see the boy's piercing blue eyes; they seemed to be boring a hole into him, freezing him in place. As if that wasn't odd enough, the boy's tousled white hair gave the impression that he was years older than he actually should have been. Ichigo figured that if the boy was his age, or a few years older, he would have simply seemed stern instead of entirely off-putting. As it was, he wanted to scowl back and ask the brat if he had a problem, never minding the fact that the kid obviously had some sort of authority to be sitting at the same table with all these old men.
"Commander General Abaddon," Rukia addressed the head of the table with a deep bow, "Lucifer-sama, Belial-sama, Amon-sama." Ichigo thought this strange; these were obviously foreign names. Indeed, these men were from another realm entirely. But if Rukia and Renji had Japanese names, shouldn't these men, as well? Perhaps these were titles?
"So this is the whelp that's been giving Pride House such a hard time recently," the old man drawled, his heavily-lidded eyes scanning the group. "Who're these other two?"
"Sado Yasutora and Inoue Orihime," Rukia answered, eyes still on the floor, "An accomplice and a willing victim, sir." Ichigo wished with all his might that he could kick her in the backside right about now. The old man turned to the black-haired man sitting on his right.
"What do we know of them?" he asked the younger man. Rukia's brother raised one fine eyebrow in response, shuffling what seemed to be a report in front of him.
"The girl is a human and of no consequence to us," he replied, his fine accent and bored, aristocratic voice making Ichigo flinch with the repressed urge to kick him, too. "The other is a half-breed with dual citizenship with Mexico. He's followed the girl home everyday for the past week in lieu of his friend." Ichigo almost lunged toward the arrogant older man at that point. How dare he talk about Chad that way? He was stopped short by a large, muscular hand covering his wrists; he looked back to see Chad shaking his head. He didn't appear offended, at least.
As for the old man himself, his attention was not on Chad, but on Orihime.
"A human, you say?" This was said as though he didn't quite believe the report for some reason. Ichigo felt a tinge of fear for a moment; what if this old man suspected that something wasn't quite right about Orihime? What if they tried to do something horrible to her? Would he be able to fight them off with just his feet? Orihime shivered next to him as the old man looked at her, causing panic to squeeze Ichigo's heart with icy fingers.
"Kurosaki Ichigo!"
The old man's voice was loud, deep, and startling, commanding the immediate attention of all who were standing in the room. Ichigo himself stared at the old man with wide eyes.
"You stand accused of murdering four of your own kind in cold blood and Marking a human girl," the old man said sternly, as though he were a judge reading a criminal case, "What do you have to say for yourself?" He rapped his large cane against the floor, making a sound that caused Ichigo to think he may have cracked the well-polished hardwood beneath.
To say Ichigo didn't deal well with authority would be an understatement. He didn't take well to it at school, with the teachers and their endless harassment over his hair, and he wasn't going to take it from this old man here, either. He fully intended to give him a piece of his mind.
"I didn't do any of that!" he yelled, leaning forward for emphasis, "I would never lay a hand on Inoue, and those four had it coming! This is all because your idiot officers here wouldn't listen to me!"
It didn't have quite the effect he'd hoped. The brown-haired man looked a bit surprised, certainly, but the old man and the black-haired man looked singularly unimpressed and the white-haired boy simply snorted.
"Pardon me if I'm mistaken," Rukia's brother replied, not looking up from the sheets of paper he was shuffling around, "But you told them you had no knowledge whatsoever of the four you killed and then claimed not to be a demon at all. Did you not?" Ichigo leaned back, disarmed.
"Well, I... I guess... I mean, I guess I said that..." he admitted, "But I..."
"If you had no reason to lie, why did you?" The man turned his stony gaze towards Ichigo for the first time, pinning him to the spot.
"I... I..." Words were failing him. How could he tell them he'd been scared, that he'd been worried what his family's reaction would be, that the only person he'd told was Inoue?
"I'm sorry!"
Ichigo turned to see that Orihime had stepped forward, still shivering slightly as she addressed the table.
"It's... It's all my fault!" she continued, tears slipping down her face, "Those four were... they were trying to kill me! They bit me and almost killed Kurosaki-kun when he tried to stop them! He... He turned into a demon to save me, so... So please don't punish him for something that's my fault!"
The entire room was stunned into silence. All eyes in the room were on Orihime. Ichigo had a look of horror painted on his face; what was she doing? Was she asking to take whatever punishment they intended for him? He angrily thought it was absolutely absurd; there was no way he was going to allow Orihime to take the fall for him.
"Inoue," he started, eyes narrowing, "Don't..."
"I-I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun," she said, turning to him with a sniffle, "I... I know you said to keep it a secret, 'cause of your family, but... But please don't be mad at me for telling!"
Ichigo paused, dumbstruck. She thought he was angry that she was telling their secret? He was certain his face looked just as dumb as he currently felt.
"Wha--?"
"Is this true, Abarai?" the black-haired man addressed his lieutenant, who was hovering at the back of the group, looking uncomfortable.
"...Well," he admitted slowly, "We only saw Kurosaki fighting the last one of that group standing. After that, he tore as-- ran out of the alleyway with the girl, so... I guess it might be true..." He scratched his cheek and shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. Ichigo knew better; the taller boy was hoping he wasn't going to be reprimanded for this fiasco.
"What say you?" the old man asked, turning to the other men at the table, "Although she's only a human, as you say Lucifer-dono, do you feel we can trust her testimony?"
The brown-haired man smiled warmly at the group, catching Ichigo's attention. Did that mean he was on their side?
"I see no reason she would lie," he said kindly, causing Ichigo to relax, "If he'd harmed her, I would think she'd want the chance to be rid of him. I don't think that's quite the case here." Ichigo exhaled a breath it seemed as though he'd been holding forever, grateful to the brown-haired man for his generosity.
"Amon-dono?"
The white-haired kid scowled in their direction. Ichigo swore he was going to be a lot harsher than the other men, but then he spoke.
"You really screwed this one up, Abarai," the kid, Amon, said, "It looks like no crime was committed, either way. And I think they'll both be mine, anyway, so it's not like they'll trouble either of you." Ichigo felt his eye twitch. What exactly did that brat mean by 'trouble either of you'? He'd show him trouble, alright.
"Since they belong to Amon-dono, I have no objections," Rukia's brother, the one the old man had called Lucifer, replied coolly, "And I will see to Abarai's punishment for this... embarrassment." Ichigo couldn't help but notice the way Rukia was left out of that statement and wanted to kick her even more.
"Then this matter is settled," Abaddon proclaimed, striking his cane against the floor and rising, his height actually more imposing than Ichigo had expected, "As no laws were actually broken, no charges will be held against any of you. And as the registration laws dictate, Kurosaki Ichigo and Sado Yasutora will be admitted to Wrath House as apprentices. Kuchiki Rukia!"
Rukia's head snapped up from the floor for the first time since she'd entered the room.
"Y-yes, Commander General?"
"Since you've been so involved in this little caper thus far, you can now consider yourself these boys' mentor," the old man said, something that looked decidedly mischievous twinkling in his eye. Ichigo felt his eye twitch again.
"I refuse!" he yelled, panic just barely stretching beneath his voice, "If I have to put up with this abusive, violent midget, I'll go ins--" He was cut off by a tiny foot slamming into his.
"Thank you, Commander General," Rukia said with a deep bow, not rising from it until the older gentleman nodded in her direction.
"Ah, it seems we're done here," Abaddon said to his colleagues, before turning back to the teenagers before him as though he'd only just remembered something.
"One more thing," he said, on the verge of turning away, "Inoue Orihime. I'd like to see you privately. Follow me."
Orihime's eyes widened, but she wordlessly nodded her assent to the older man. Eyes on the floor, she went to follow him. Ichigo wanted to yell at them that anything he needed to say to Orihime could be said in front of them all, but before he could, he felt not only Chad's restraining hand on his wrists, but now Rukia's as well.
"Don't," she said softly in warning while she released the restraints on his wrists, "She'll be fine."
Unbeknownst to the occupants of the room, the curtains on either side shifted ever so slightly, two figures making their way behind them towards the doors.
Series: Bleach
Rating: R
Warnings: AU, het (IchiHime, lots of other pairings eventually), blood, guts, testosterone, ANGST
Spoilers: This is AU. We don't need spoilers, where we're going.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. The LiveJournal format that you'll probably be reading this in (if you're one of my friends) is rough draft and is subject to revision. Consider this a 'sneak peek'. If something sits the wrong way with you, let me know. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.
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This seemed to be happening to him with frightening regularity.
The first thing Ichigo was aware of was the feeling of swaying and floating. It felt as though he was being carried by some other power; not a person, but something much larger than he. As senses began to return to his body, he began to become aware of other things. He was laying on a cold, hard surface. The only cushioning was a bit of scratchy straw here and there; it was digging into his cheek at the moment. There was a rough rumbling in the background which slowly grew louder as he became more and more awake. He could feel the vibrations from the floor underneath him; a particularly jolting bump convinced him that he must be in a vehicle of some kind. But most importantly, he couldn't feel the oppressive light from those damned spotlights anymore.
Edging one eye carefully open, his vision slowly began to focus. The compartment he was in was dark and cool. He was a bit thankful for that, of all things; he thought those bright lights were going to burn his eyes straight out of his head. They still ached a bit, to be sure, but it was nowhere near as acute. In fact, it seemed as though his vision had returned entirely to normal from its demonic sharpness; sure enough, he could feel his leather band around his wrist again. Someone had replaced his inhibitor while he was out.
"Kurosaki-kun?" Her voice was soft and cracked a bit around the edges as she spoke. "Sado-kun, I think he's waking up!"
Ichigo rolled slowly onto his side, turning to face Orihime. As her face swam into focus, he could see the light from streetlights outside passing gently across her like ghosts. As they passed another, he noticed the light shining off her eyes and cheeks. She'd been crying? Had they done something to her?
"Inoue? Are you hurt?" He watched her shake her head in the negative. His face scrunched a bit in confusion as he tried to sit up; if she wasn't hurt, why did she look like she was in pain? His thoughts were jolted from that particular path by the realization that his arms were bound behind him. He wobbled a bit on his way to a sitting position because it had thrown his balance off. Seeing his difficulty in sitting, Orihime leaned forward to place a hand on his shoulder and help him up.
"She put another spell on your hands to keep you from trying to get away while the van is moving," Orihime said quietly. Ichigo grit his teeth; he swore to himself that that midget had better hope he never got his hands free. Orihime's hand moved around to his back, rubbing soothingly as it did. It was odd; by this simple action, he felt some of his irritation siphon off, her cool hand smoothing his frazzled nerves and making him calmer.
"Are you hurt anywhere?" she asked, that pained expression flitting across her face again. Ichigo took note of it for the second time. It was then that it hit him; it was worry - more specifically, it was worry for him. He pulled up a weak smile for her. It might not be convincing, but he at least had to try to assuage her fears.
"I'm fine, Inoue," he said, his voice scratchy and unsure, "I just have a scratch on my leg and a headache from those lights. That's all." Her eyes searched his face for a second before deciding his answer was good enough and moving to his leg.
"They did that on purpose," a deep voice came from across the compartment. Ichigo looked over to see Chad sitting in the opposite corner of the van from him. He'd replaced his necklace, sealing his demonic power. His arms were their normal, tanned color again, the snake and winged heart tattoo barely visible on his left shoulder in the shadows.
"What, the lights?" He couldn't mean the wound on his leg from Ishida; of course that one was done on purpose. But what did he mean, they did the spotlight on purpose?
"When you've got your limiter off, your vision's more sensitive. Bright lights are painful." He tapped one long finger against the messy brown hair strewn across his temple. Ichigo wanted to slap his forehead with his palm; of course a patrol unit would use spotlights to make criminals freeze. And those two jackasses had their backs turned to the lights the entire time, so they weren't looking directly at them. It made a scary amount of sense.
"Of course," Ichigo groaned. His irritated thoughts were interrupted, however, by a tingling sensation on his thigh. As he looked down, he noticed that the arrow wound Ishida had left him with was enveloped in a small dome of golden light. Slowly, as though the light was erasing its existence, the wound closed. It was the same color, the same sparkling energy, as the shield Orihime had provided him with earlier, and in realizing this, his head snapped up to regard her with surprise.
For her part, Orihime looked just as stunned as Ichigo did. She watched the small dome in fascination until the wound closed, upon which the paper-thin light dispersed, two glowing points of light bundling at the edges before zipping back to her glittering hairpins. As she noticed Ichigo's eyes studying her, she flushed and looked away.
"How did you..." he trailed off, unable to contain his fascination. Was this a demonic power? And if so, her hairpins were obviously her inhibitors, but how could she produce an effect like that without removing them? Ichigo knew he certainly couldn't do anything like that with his wristband still on.
"I... I don't know!" she exclaimed in something akin to frustration, "I don't know how I made that shield earlier, either!" Her face scrunched up, chin tucked against her chest, fists balled up against her thighs and his back. She was visibly ready to cry. Ichigo began to panic - if there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was to see a girl cry.
"Don't... Don't worry about it, okay! It's no big deal! We'll figure it out, right?" He spoke quickly, hoping to head off any waterworks at the pass. She looked up at him again, unscrewing her face and sniffling a tiny bit. The innocent look she gave him caused warmth to spread across his chest; her open, honest face pricked him somewhere deep, giving rise to a protective urge he usually reserved solely for his sisters. This was different, though. It was less brotherly, and more of something else that he couldn't exactly name.
"Okay... Right..." she muttered, lowering her eyes. The urge to embrace her came upon him suddenly and unbidden; he wanted to cradle her in his arms until she no longer felt scared or unsafe. The bonds on his wrists now felt unbearably restrictive and cruel.
As if responding to Ichigo's thoughts, Orihime seemed to only just then realize how close they were to one another. She sat upright with a jerk, taking her hand off his back as though she'd been burned. She balled her hands into her lap and stared at them, wide-eyed. Ichigo could've sworn she was blushing in the dim light.
"Umm... That is... I..." she stammered, twisting her skirt in her hands. Ichigo cleared his throat and looked the other way; he figured that was the polite thing to do at the moment. Suddenly, his cheek really, really needed to be scratched.
The awkward exchange came to an end as the van jerked to a halt. The two teenagers tipped towards each other, Orihime steadying herself on Ichigo's shirt to keep from falling into his lap entirely. His heart was beating so hard in his ears that he barely registered the sounds of slamming doors from the passenger cab of the vehicle, or the sound of footsteps outside the cargo bay. All Ichigo had time to notice was the way his face was burning and the way her hand was resting against his chest. A long, long moment passed as Orihime seemed to gather her courage enough to slowly look up at him.
"We're here," Chad said quietly, breaking the tension of the heated moment between his cabinmates. Ichigo's eyes snapped over to regard his friend, who was in turn watching the compartment doors and waiting. He didn't have to wait long; a few seconds later, Renji threw the doors open, the dim lights of a large estate filtering through the back of the van. The redhead's original sour look was briefly replaced with surprise, his tattooed eyebrows arching towards his goggles.
"Geez," he muttered, "We tie your hands behind your back, and you've still got game." Ichigo was sure his face was the color of his own hair now and quickly heading towards the shade Renji was sporting. For her part, Orihime jerked back, her hands returning to their spot in her lap and her chin to its resting place on her chest. The loss of her contact only irritated Ichigo more.
"Sh--! Shut up!" he bellowed, "It's not my fault you don't know how to drive!" Renji's face lost all amusement as a vein sprouted on his temple.
"I'll have you know I got a perfect score on my driver's test!" he yelled back in indignation. Before he could say anything else, though, his head pitched sharply forward, revealing the petite black-haired girl behind him.
"Stop screaming in Nii-sama's driveway!"
Ichigo noted with narrowing eyes that Rukia was being just as loud as they were.
"Oww, Rukia! He started it!" Renji protested, pawing his head where Rukia had hit him with her tiny fist. Rukia seemed largely unimpressed.
"Oh, grow up, Renji," she said flatly before turning to their prisoners, "You three, get down and follow me." Ichigo reluctantly did as he was told, glaring mutinously all the while. If she'd just take that spell off his hands, he'd really give her something to follow.
As soon as he was down from the back of the van, Ichigo turned to check on Orihime and Chad. Chad had already hopped out, giving Renji a nod as he did so. The ponytailed teenager huffed and looked away; the thought that he had gotten punished for not finishing him off when he had the chance gave Ichigo a secret, small feeling of satisfaction. As for Orihime, she climbed down with some effort, landing next to Ichigo with a tiny squeak.
"You alright?" he asked her quietly, ignoring their jailers for the moment. She regarded him silently with wide eyes, nodding in the affirmative before this once again caught Renji's ire.
"Less flirting, more walking," he barked, herding the trio around the van and up the large driveway. Ichigo felt his ears burn, but bit back the urge to argue again; it was only prolonging the inevitable. Besides, Inoue's hand was clutching the hem of his shirt hard. He knew she was probably more afraid than he could possibly be at the moment; he couldn't even imagine how hard this all was on her, and he knew it. He didn't want to cause more stress for her.
Those thoughts receded as soon as he got a good look at the grounds to which they'd been transported. First and foremost, Ichigo noted that there wasn't much light in the landscaping. That probably went back to what Chad had mentioned, he realized; why would a houseful of demons need much light outside at night? Even so, after another few seconds, he noticed his vision had completely adjusted anyway.
Now that his eyes were properly dilated, he could see a bit clearer. The van had pulled along the side of the house - Ichigo guessed they weren't allowed to enter though the front - and they were now approaching a side door with a keypad set into the wall beside it. The door itself was a stark difference from the rest of the decor. It was flat and dark, probably made of steel or some other solid metal. The wall it was set into, however, was made of wood and looked quite traditional. In fact, everything they'd seen of this estate thus far - the shrubbery, the trees, the landscaping, the outside of the house, the sloping roofs, the patios, the railings, the paper windows - was completely, traditionally Japanese. Even though the exterior of the large estate looked frail and ancient, Ichigo suspected there was much more to it than they could visibly tell; an invisible undercurrent, not quite visible at the corners of his vision, flowing through the walls like some kind of foreign electricity. He wondered if it was technological... or something more sinister.
Rukia turned her back to their captives to punch a code into the keypad; it wasn't as if Ichigo had any misconceptions about her lack of attention. He knew just exactly how far he could get in such a place with his hands bound. And if he didn't, Renji was at the tail of their little procession and would quickly disabuse him of any such notions anyway.
The plastic buttons on the keypad flashed green to signal that Rukia's code was valid, and the steel door slid open, revealing a dark corridor beyond. The only thing that Ichigo could see in the interior of the house was the gleam of moonlight and dim garden lights shining off a well-polished wooden floor. As they were herded inside the dark hallway, the metal door slid shut behind them with a silky, shifting noise, leaving the group in pitch blackness. Ichigo could feel Inoue's hand tugging more insistently at his shirt at the loss of the feeble light to which they'd finally grown accustomed; the bonds around his wrists felt tighter than ever as he cursed himself silently for dragging her into this little drama.
Small footsteps resounded and echoed directly in front of Ichigo, moving away from him, and after another few seconds he heard the snapping of fingers. A row of glass sconces fastened to the walls sprang to life with bluish-white flickering flames. The light was little better than that outside, but it was far preferable to the darkness that had engulfed them only seconds ago.
Now that the hallway had been lit, Ichigo could clearly see it for the first time. As he suspected, the floor was polished wood laid out in the traditional style. The stark corridor was lined on either side with similarly sealed wooden paneling from which the sconces were hung, and farther down the hall, he could see paper sliding doors set into the wood. The pale light flickered eerily across the smooth, glossy floors, giving Ichigo the overall impression of a house that was so tidy, so meticulously well-kept, that it might as well have been an Edo-period replica of a lord's manor.
As they began to follow Rukia's retreating form down the hallway, Ichigo noticed a slight shiver in the air beside his shoulder. He looked down to see Orihime, eyes on the floor, trembling and holding herself. She was shaking badly enough that he'd felt it even being as far from her as he was. For a brief moment, he could swear he even heard her teeth chattering.
"Inoue?" he whispered, trying not to draw their captors' attention any more than necessary.
"It's cold," she muttered back, almost so softly that Ichigo couldn't hear her through the chattering of her teeth. "It's so cold..."
Ichigo fretted quietly as they walked. It wasn't warm in this building by any means, but it certainly wasn't cold, either. It wasn't cold enough outside for her to have caught such a chill, either. The possibility occurred to him that she was in shock and suffering from poor circulation, but even that didn't seem to make sense; yes, everything that was happening was frightening and stressful, but was it bad enough to send her into shock?
"Here." The deep voice came from behind, tan hands reaching out to drape the large wool school jacket he'd been carrying over Orihime's shoulders. She pulled it closed towards her chest with shaking hands as Ichigo looked over his shoulder to see Chad offering the jacket to her. He gave his best friend a weary smile.
"Thanks, Chad," he said softly. Ichigo was so preoccupied with this little sideshow that he almost didn't notice that Rukia had stopped in front of a large set of inlaid wooden doors. He caught himself just before colliding with her backside. She didn't even turn to acknowledge him.
'She thinks she's so much better than us,' he thought mutinously, his eyes narrowing on the back of her black-tressed head. If the situation wasn't as dire as it was, he'd have popped off some smart-mouthed comment or planted his foot squarely in her backside. As it was, though, he was holding himself back intently; he didn't care what they did to him, but his friends shouldn't be punished because of his misbehavior.
"Nii-sama," Rukia finally spoke to the door, "We're here."
"Your brother's a door?" Ichigo asked dryly, finally unable to hold it back any longer. The next thing he felt wasn't exactly regret; it was a sharp, stinging pain from the tiny foot that had just made such a bruising impact with his toes.
Before she could say anything, though, Rukia's head perked up as though she'd heard a sound beyond the range of Ichigo's hearing. His eyes widened as the doors seemed to swing inward of their own volition.
"Try to look impressed," Renji muttered under his breath to him, too softly for Rukia to hear, "They like that sort of thing." Ichigo blinked in surprise for a second; was Renji actually being... friendly? Well, regardless of what was on the other side of the door, Ichigo actually was surprised now. He figured he just might be the lesser of two evils to Renji and turned back to watch Rukia enter the room now opened before them.
The room itself was nothing impressive; if anything it was mostly just dark and spacious, something like Ichigo imagined a boardroom would look. The first thing he noticed was the set of floor lamps situated at the far end of the room. They were lit with low, flickering red flames that danced ever so slightly at the change in air pressure the open doors had caused. The walls were hung with heavy, deep red drapes, their velvet consistency causing deep shadows to lay in their folds. The light from the lamps gave the walls the impression of being painted in running blood - an impression that Ichigo tried not to think too hard about. In the middle of the room, there was situated a long, dark table, probably made of cherry wood or mahogany. Tall, black, high-backed chairs ran along either side, all but four of them unoccupied.
The most noticeable figure was, of course, the one situated at the end of the table. He was an ancient man, bald but for a white mustache and a beard that trailed down his chest, wrapped in cross-crossing ribbons. His visible skin was scarred all over, probably from years of battle, and had begun to droop and wrinkle just a bit as it stretched over the muscled frame beneath. The firelight still provided the shadows that spoke of protruding blue veins beneath the parchment of skin; Ichigo thought that if he got closer to the old man, he would be able to see the network of veins running the length of his arms. Beside his seat, his gnarled hand protruded from the sleeve of his black robes, holding the end of a large wooden staff. Ichigo immediately took him to be the leader of the group; aside from appearing much, much older than the other three, his countenance and bearing quietly bespoke dominance and authority.
To his right, Ichigo could see the one that could only be Rukia's older brother. His shoulder-length hair was the same glossy black shade as hers, just as his eyes held the same slant and deep color. He was just as graceful, just as stern as his younger sister, but much more refined. Aside from sharing the same slick, black hair, their countenances were eerily similar. The male Kuchiki had such a regal bearing, such poise and elegance, that Ichigo immediately recalled what Renji had said on the rooftop: this was the head of the House of Pride. It then occurred to him how odd it was for someone like Renji to work for someone like this; an odd couple indeed.
Across from Rukia's brother, on the old man's left, there was a man who looked to be no older than thirty-five. His wavy, mouse-brown hair fell to his ears on either side of his pale face, which was dominated by a black pair of square glasses. He smiled warmly at the group as they entered and Ichigo almost felt at ease for a moment. Even though he knew he shouldn't get his hopes up, he almost entertained the notion of appealing to this man's kindness to let them go. Almost as soon as he thought that, though, he caught the look the person beside the brown-haired man was giving them and decided against that.
The last person at the table looked to be a few years younger than Ichigo, and certainly no older than his sisters. Even at the distance they were standing from the table, Ichigo could see the boy's piercing blue eyes; they seemed to be boring a hole into him, freezing him in place. As if that wasn't odd enough, the boy's tousled white hair gave the impression that he was years older than he actually should have been. Ichigo figured that if the boy was his age, or a few years older, he would have simply seemed stern instead of entirely off-putting. As it was, he wanted to scowl back and ask the brat if he had a problem, never minding the fact that the kid obviously had some sort of authority to be sitting at the same table with all these old men.
"Commander General Abaddon," Rukia addressed the head of the table with a deep bow, "Lucifer-sama, Belial-sama, Amon-sama." Ichigo thought this strange; these were obviously foreign names. Indeed, these men were from another realm entirely. But if Rukia and Renji had Japanese names, shouldn't these men, as well? Perhaps these were titles?
"So this is the whelp that's been giving Pride House such a hard time recently," the old man drawled, his heavily-lidded eyes scanning the group. "Who're these other two?"
"Sado Yasutora and Inoue Orihime," Rukia answered, eyes still on the floor, "An accomplice and a willing victim, sir." Ichigo wished with all his might that he could kick her in the backside right about now. The old man turned to the black-haired man sitting on his right.
"What do we know of them?" he asked the younger man. Rukia's brother raised one fine eyebrow in response, shuffling what seemed to be a report in front of him.
"The girl is a human and of no consequence to us," he replied, his fine accent and bored, aristocratic voice making Ichigo flinch with the repressed urge to kick him, too. "The other is a half-breed with dual citizenship with Mexico. He's followed the girl home everyday for the past week in lieu of his friend." Ichigo almost lunged toward the arrogant older man at that point. How dare he talk about Chad that way? He was stopped short by a large, muscular hand covering his wrists; he looked back to see Chad shaking his head. He didn't appear offended, at least.
As for the old man himself, his attention was not on Chad, but on Orihime.
"A human, you say?" This was said as though he didn't quite believe the report for some reason. Ichigo felt a tinge of fear for a moment; what if this old man suspected that something wasn't quite right about Orihime? What if they tried to do something horrible to her? Would he be able to fight them off with just his feet? Orihime shivered next to him as the old man looked at her, causing panic to squeeze Ichigo's heart with icy fingers.
"Kurosaki Ichigo!"
The old man's voice was loud, deep, and startling, commanding the immediate attention of all who were standing in the room. Ichigo himself stared at the old man with wide eyes.
"You stand accused of murdering four of your own kind in cold blood and Marking a human girl," the old man said sternly, as though he were a judge reading a criminal case, "What do you have to say for yourself?" He rapped his large cane against the floor, making a sound that caused Ichigo to think he may have cracked the well-polished hardwood beneath.
To say Ichigo didn't deal well with authority would be an understatement. He didn't take well to it at school, with the teachers and their endless harassment over his hair, and he wasn't going to take it from this old man here, either. He fully intended to give him a piece of his mind.
"I didn't do any of that!" he yelled, leaning forward for emphasis, "I would never lay a hand on Inoue, and those four had it coming! This is all because your idiot officers here wouldn't listen to me!"
It didn't have quite the effect he'd hoped. The brown-haired man looked a bit surprised, certainly, but the old man and the black-haired man looked singularly unimpressed and the white-haired boy simply snorted.
"Pardon me if I'm mistaken," Rukia's brother replied, not looking up from the sheets of paper he was shuffling around, "But you told them you had no knowledge whatsoever of the four you killed and then claimed not to be a demon at all. Did you not?" Ichigo leaned back, disarmed.
"Well, I... I guess... I mean, I guess I said that..." he admitted, "But I..."
"If you had no reason to lie, why did you?" The man turned his stony gaze towards Ichigo for the first time, pinning him to the spot.
"I... I..." Words were failing him. How could he tell them he'd been scared, that he'd been worried what his family's reaction would be, that the only person he'd told was Inoue?
"I'm sorry!"
Ichigo turned to see that Orihime had stepped forward, still shivering slightly as she addressed the table.
"It's... It's all my fault!" she continued, tears slipping down her face, "Those four were... they were trying to kill me! They bit me and almost killed Kurosaki-kun when he tried to stop them! He... He turned into a demon to save me, so... So please don't punish him for something that's my fault!"
The entire room was stunned into silence. All eyes in the room were on Orihime. Ichigo had a look of horror painted on his face; what was she doing? Was she asking to take whatever punishment they intended for him? He angrily thought it was absolutely absurd; there was no way he was going to allow Orihime to take the fall for him.
"Inoue," he started, eyes narrowing, "Don't..."
"I-I'm sorry, Kurosaki-kun," she said, turning to him with a sniffle, "I... I know you said to keep it a secret, 'cause of your family, but... But please don't be mad at me for telling!"
Ichigo paused, dumbstruck. She thought he was angry that she was telling their secret? He was certain his face looked just as dumb as he currently felt.
"Wha--?"
"Is this true, Abarai?" the black-haired man addressed his lieutenant, who was hovering at the back of the group, looking uncomfortable.
"...Well," he admitted slowly, "We only saw Kurosaki fighting the last one of that group standing. After that, he tore as-- ran out of the alleyway with the girl, so... I guess it might be true..." He scratched his cheek and shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. Ichigo knew better; the taller boy was hoping he wasn't going to be reprimanded for this fiasco.
"What say you?" the old man asked, turning to the other men at the table, "Although she's only a human, as you say Lucifer-dono, do you feel we can trust her testimony?"
The brown-haired man smiled warmly at the group, catching Ichigo's attention. Did that mean he was on their side?
"I see no reason she would lie," he said kindly, causing Ichigo to relax, "If he'd harmed her, I would think she'd want the chance to be rid of him. I don't think that's quite the case here." Ichigo exhaled a breath it seemed as though he'd been holding forever, grateful to the brown-haired man for his generosity.
"Amon-dono?"
The white-haired kid scowled in their direction. Ichigo swore he was going to be a lot harsher than the other men, but then he spoke.
"You really screwed this one up, Abarai," the kid, Amon, said, "It looks like no crime was committed, either way. And I think they'll both be mine, anyway, so it's not like they'll trouble either of you." Ichigo felt his eye twitch. What exactly did that brat mean by 'trouble either of you'? He'd show him trouble, alright.
"Since they belong to Amon-dono, I have no objections," Rukia's brother, the one the old man had called Lucifer, replied coolly, "And I will see to Abarai's punishment for this... embarrassment." Ichigo couldn't help but notice the way Rukia was left out of that statement and wanted to kick her even more.
"Then this matter is settled," Abaddon proclaimed, striking his cane against the floor and rising, his height actually more imposing than Ichigo had expected, "As no laws were actually broken, no charges will be held against any of you. And as the registration laws dictate, Kurosaki Ichigo and Sado Yasutora will be admitted to Wrath House as apprentices. Kuchiki Rukia!"
Rukia's head snapped up from the floor for the first time since she'd entered the room.
"Y-yes, Commander General?"
"Since you've been so involved in this little caper thus far, you can now consider yourself these boys' mentor," the old man said, something that looked decidedly mischievous twinkling in his eye. Ichigo felt his eye twitch again.
"I refuse!" he yelled, panic just barely stretching beneath his voice, "If I have to put up with this abusive, violent midget, I'll go ins--" He was cut off by a tiny foot slamming into his.
"Thank you, Commander General," Rukia said with a deep bow, not rising from it until the older gentleman nodded in her direction.
"Ah, it seems we're done here," Abaddon said to his colleagues, before turning back to the teenagers before him as though he'd only just remembered something.
"One more thing," he said, on the verge of turning away, "Inoue Orihime. I'd like to see you privately. Follow me."
Orihime's eyes widened, but she wordlessly nodded her assent to the older man. Eyes on the floor, she went to follow him. Ichigo wanted to yell at them that anything he needed to say to Orihime could be said in front of them all, but before he could, he felt not only Chad's restraining hand on his wrists, but now Rukia's as well.
"Don't," she said softly in warning while she released the restraints on his wrists, "She'll be fine."
Unbeknownst to the occupants of the room, the curtains on either side shifted ever so slightly, two figures making their way behind them towards the doors.
