Pr0n tiems!

[queenofchalices]

Title: Cucumber Salad
Series: Bleach
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: IchiHime, smut, abuse of a cucumber, Freud Hichi. Just. Hichi.
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. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST smut, Freudian imagery, and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.

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It happened around lunch time on a Saturday.

The Vizards had drawn straws to see who'd go get everyone lunch from the nearest convenience store. And of course Ichigo had gotten the short straw. He usually got the short straw. He figured the others had had plenty of time to perfect a method of making sure none of them got it, and he was the youngest. It was times like these that he hated being at the bottom of the Vizard food chain. Then again, that was most of the time, anyway.

It had been this way since they'd gotten back from Hueco Mundo, really. As soon as they'd returned, he'd gone back to the Vizards for training. He hadn't completed his original training, after all, and everything that had happened on that dome with Ulquiorra had made it even more necessary for him to go back and try to figure his powers out all over again.

So for two months, he'd been in and out of their compound, bouncing back and forth between training, school, and home. The school part had been a necessity; if he'd stayed out any longer, he thought the school board might start sending people after him, and his excuses were already wearing pretty thin before they'd left for Hueco Mundo. Going home kept his dad from asking too many questions, Yuzu from bawling her eyes out, and Karin from hitting him repeatedly.

The part that nagged at him the worst, though, was the way he'd promised himself he was going to spend more time with Orihime once they got her back. After they'd almost lost her, he'd resolved to get to know her better, to make sure she was alright and to let her know he didn't take her for granted. But sure enough, as soon as they'd returned home, they barely had time to settle in before a new round of training and hustling and bustling took over.

Sure, he could see her when he went to school. And she knew where the Vizards lived. But whenever he saw her, her smile was firmly in place, letting him know that she was fine and that he should just concentrate on his training and on getting stronger and for him not to worry about her. And while she may very well have been perfectly fine in body and soul, he had a sneaking suspicion that it was more likely not to be true at all.

So with that ever-present worry at the back of his mind, he had gone out to get today's lunch. The doors of the convenience store slid shut behind him as he stepped out onto the sidewalk, laden down with bags of riceballs, canned tea, and god only knew what else he'd had to buy his comrades. He slouched into his coat against the late-winter chill, impatient to get back to the compound and back to his training.

"Whatever happened to 'We have faith in you, Ichigo'?" he grumbled, "Sure. Faith I'll pick up a good lunch."

As he began walking back the way he came, he heard footsteps coming quickly up behind him. The part of his mind that had been in training for the past two months wanted to swing around and catch his pursuer before they caught him. The part of his mind that didn't want to have to re-buy all the food in his hands won out, though, and made him stay right where he was. He simply turned his head to see who was behind him.

"Ichigo!"

The voice belonged to a tall blonde woman with large, pendulous breasts and shining blue eyes. Ichigo raised an eyebrow, wondering what the Shinigami Vice Captain was doing here; hadn't she been recuperating from her wounds in Soul Society? But here she was, in a gigai and wearing regular human clothes, shopping bags looped around her arms. He also couldn't help but notice that she looked more than a bit irritated at the moment.

Well, it couldn't be because of him, right? He'd been cooped up in an abandoned warehouse for the better part of two months. There wasn't much he could have done to piss her off. Was there?

"Rangiku-san?" he asked, his curiosity showing through in his voice, "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Soul Society?" Rangiku pulled up short, the anger draining from her face and being replaced with a neutral expression.

"Oh," she replied, pointing upwards with one finger, "I heard there was a mission coming down here, so I volunteered to catch up on my shoppi-- I mean, to catch up with all of you!" Ichigo stared at her flatly for a few seconds. Then he told himself that it was good that she at least ran her own errands, unlike some people he could name.

"But that's beside the point!" Rangiku continued, her earlier fiery demeanor returning, "I wanted to have a word with you!" And with that, she grabbed Ichigo's collar and yanked him over to the alleyway beside the convenience store. He stumbled along behind her, confounded and trying not to spill any of the contents of his bags. Stray cats and birds scattered as they approached, abandoning the trash they'd been sifting through.

"What the hell!" Ichigo protested as she finally stopped dragging him. She turned to face him, hands on her hips and an intimidating look on her face.

"Now," Rangiku said curtly, "I wanted to talk to you about something important." Ichigo gave her his customary scowl; he thoroughly disapproved of being badgered like this.

"Did you need to drag me into an alley for it?", he huffed, running a hand through his messy hair, "And how did you find me, anyway?" He knew she couldn't have traced his reiatsu; Hachi already said it was impossible while he was within the warehouse. Could she have sensed him and then come using shunpo? No, he hadn't been gone that long.

"Oh! Orihime-chan said you'd be in this area!" A jolt went through Ichigo's mind as he recalled the morning Rangiku's Captain had appeared at his bedroom window all those months ago.

"Inoue?" he asked, his brow creasing more with worry than frustration now, "Is she...?" He didn't finish the thought before Rangiku blinked, her eyes becoming round and saucer-like.

"She's fine, Ichigo," she quickly provided, "Actually, I just came from her place. But you wouldn't know about that, would you?"

Ichigo felt a wash of relief, knowing nothing had happened to her. Then he felt a brush of irritation; what did she mean, he wouldn't know about that? He felt that familiar twinge pinch his chest, telling him he wasn't keeping a close enough eye on her.

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?" He let his irritation bleed through his words.

Rangiku responded with irritation of her own, hands on hips, bending into his personal space. In fact, because of the way she was leaning, her large chest and plunging neckline were now the most notable thing to threaten Ichigo's personal bubble. He backed up when he noticed them, almost as though he was being pushed away with a magnet. Silently, though, he was cursing the blonde and her stupid, noticeable body. Didn't she know girls weren't supposed to do stuff like that? It was unfair!

"Ichigo," she started in a tone that Ichigo had heard several times throughout his life from his teachers, "You haven't been paying her any attention since you came back, have you?"

Ouch. Rangiku cut right to the heart of the matter, didn't she? It didn't help that this very same topic had been weighing heavily on him lately, either. Outwardly, Ichigo's eye twitched ever-so-slightly and he glanced away from her. If she knew exactly how much that had affected him, she'd never let it go.

"I've been busy training," he said gruffly, "Inoue understands that." And it was true; he knew that she did understand exactly why he needed to keep up with his training. He had doubts about how happy she actually was with it, but he knew for dead certain that she at least didn't object to it. And anyway, why the hell was this even any of Rangiku's business?

"Of course she does," Rangiku said smartly, "She's very patient. But even I can tell she's unhappy." There was that pang of guilt again. Jeez, it was almost like she was doing it on purpose.

"She knows she can come see me whenever she wants," Ichigo grumbled. Rangiku sighed and leaned back, mercifully giving Ichigo room to breathe.

"Geez, you're really dense sometimes, Ichigo," she said with something of a pout, "She doesn't want to distract you from your training. Besides, don't you know that the man is supposed to make the first movie? You're not romantic at all." Now he felt his cheeks growing hot. That was definitely from aggravation, though. Definitely.

"I'm not trying to be romantic!" Ichigo was nearly yelling now, "I'm trying to be responsible and finish my training!" The look Rangiku gave him, with her hands on her hips, let Ichigo know just how unimpressed she was by his sense of responsibility.

"So it is true? That you've not even made her a woman yet?"

The record in Ichigo's brain scratched, long and hard. The world ground to a halt around him. The next words out of his mouth seemed kind of dumb, but were honestly the only appropriate thing he could say at the moment.

"Have I-- what?!"

"You know!" Rangiku provided helpfully, "Done the deed, made the beast with two backs, hid the sausage, gave her a ride on the ol' baloney pony, dueling bedsprings, getting your--" Every word, every syllable made him want to die a little more inside.

"I know what you're talking about, alright?!" He was definitely yelling now. "But that's... You're... Why are you even asking me that?!" Rangiku folded her arms over her ample bosom and nodded gravely.

"As your sempai, it's my responsibility to take you in hand and make sure you both learn important life lessons," she said seriously. Considering the subject matter, Ichigo didn't want her hands anywhere near him at the moment. Or ever, really.

"No one ever asked you to be our sempai," Ichigo said sharply, before going back and catching the last part of her statement, "Wait, just... Just what have you been teaching Inoue?!"

"Ah! I'm glad you asked!" Her index finger was once again helpfully pointed up beside her face, as though she had been waiting the entire time to tell him this, "We got to talking about it and since she had a couple of spare cucumbers around the house, I showed her all sorts of things she could do with her hands and mouth and--"

By this point, all the color had drained out of Ichigo's face. The first thoughts to go through his mind were of what possible scenarios could have played out between Rangiku, Orihime, and a couple of cucumbers. After trying and failing several times to change the topic in his own mind, Ichigo realized that Orihime was probably just as traumatized by this as he currently was.

Worse than that, he could feel that white bastard sitting up and taking notice in the back of his mind. He'd been quiet up until now - probably tired out from their training - but this seemed to be a topic he had an interest in, for some ungodly reason that Ichigo didn't want to think about. There was a low whistle, and then:

"I didn't know you had it in you, Ichigo. Your imagination's better than the crap that Lisa chick keeps trying to make us read. Hey, where all do you think she--"

"SHUT UP!"

It wasn't until Ichigo caught the surprised look on Rangiku's face that he realized he'd said that out loud. Oh well, he figured it could apply to her just as well.

"Jeez, Ichigo," she said, pouting a bit and placing her hands back on her hips, her shopping bags jostling, "You're such a dull kid. How are you ever going to have an exciting youth like this?" He felt like pulling his hair out.

"I don't want an exciting youth!" he snapped, turning towards the exit of the alley, "Look, I gotta go. If you see Inoue again, tell her I said hi." He needed to get as far away from that woman as humanly possible, as fast as humanly possible. His cheeks were on fire, and it wasn't because of the cold. Rangiku huffed as he skittered out of the alley.

"Mou!" she protested, pouting again, "Tell her yourself, Ichigo!"

He was so intent on stomping back to the Vizard's hideout, silently cursing the grating laughter coming from the back of his mind, that he barely heard her.

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So here he was, on the walkway beneath a familiar apartment building, staring up at the door he needed to go up and knock on. It was just after dusk, and the streetlights had only barely begun to flicker on; the apartment he was watching flicked on its porch light, meaning the girl he wanted to talk to was inside. He wondered if that annoying Rangiku was there, as well, hoping against hope that he wouldn't run into her again anytime soon.

How had he gotten here? He asked himself for the dozenth time, irritated that he'd capitulated because of his conversation with that damned woman. No, that wasn't it, was it? No, he was just concerned about Inoue. Anything could've happened to her - Rangiku could've done anything to her!

As odd as it was, that last thought had been hanging at the back of Ichigo's mind all afternoon. Even his inner hollow, who had been incredibly amused by his earlier run-in with Rangiku, had slowly become irritated by the whole situation. The thing's increasingly possessive behavior towards Inoue hadn't gone unnoticed by Ichigo, either; he'd been piping up to make suggestive little comments whenever she was near ever since that incident on the dome. In fact, anytime Ichigo had tried to forget the earlier exchange with Rangiku, his white counterpart would be the one to drag the memories back up, chewing on them like a particularly vicious dog with a new bone.

Ichigo rubbed the bridge of his sore nose. This situation certainly hadn't helped his training any, either. He'd been so distracted by his inner hollow and his bitching that he'd let Hiyori get several good kicks in to his face. Finally, she'd yelled that if he wasn't going to take his training seriously, he should give up. And in a rare fit of common sense, Ichigo had considered the option for a few minutes, and then asked if he could, in fact, knock off for the day. Hiyori's response had been to launch a sandal at his face, but he had considered that good enough and headed out.

So here he was, on a sidewalk, in the cold, in the dark, listening to his inner hollow grumble about other people touching things that didn't belong to them. He didn't know whether to laugh or worry about that last part; who knew inner hollows could develop crushes?

"It's not a crush!"

'Oh, of course not. My bad - you're just jealous for no good reason.'

"I'm not jealous, either! Stop being an idiot!"

'Tsundere.'

"I'm not a fucking tsundere either, asshole, and if you don't move your ass up those stairs, I'll do it for you!"

'Fine, fine. Keep your shirt on.'

And with that pleasant exchange out of the way, Ichigo trudged his way up the stairs and stopped on the landing before Orihime's door.

After another moment's hesitation, he rang the doorbell. A cheery 'Coming!' sounded from the other side of the door before soft footsteps padded towards it. The door handle jiggled a bit before swinging inward, revealing the wide-eyed auburn-haired girl with the blue hairpins inside the apartment.

"Kurosaki-kun?" Orihime asked, blinking in confusion before a smile lit up her face. Ichigo even almost forgot his earlier consternation for a second to return the smile; almost, but not quite.

"Err, hi," he said, more than just a bit awkwardly. Orihime then proceeded to move behind the door, pulling it inward along with her.

"Come in, come in!" she said happily, "I was just getting ready to have dinner!"

Ichigo hesitated for a second before stepping inside. As Orihime closed the door behind him, he got his first good look at her. She was in a long, floral-print skirt and turtleneck sweater, a frilly pink apron tied on top of the ensemble. She even had little pink bunny slippers on her feet. And somehow, on her, this all looked perfectly normal. In fact, the only thing out of place was the large knife she was holding in her right hand; it made a weird, somewhat creepy juxtaposition against her happy, smiling demeanor. The worrisome effect certainly wasn't lost on Ichigo.

Meanwhile, Ichigo could feel his inner hollow sit up and take notice. He started to say something about 'housewife fantasies' and wanting a bath before dinner, but Ichigo ignored him as hard as he could. He was getting pretty good at that lately, actually.

"What... What are you having?" he asked, trying not to stare at the knife and take his shoes off at the same time. He finally slipped on a pair of guest shoes and followed her down the foyer towards her kitchen.

"Oh! Cucumber salad!" she replied chipperly, waving the knife carelessly as she spoke, "I have enough for two! You should stay for dinner!"

For a second, Ichigo was paralyzed by the idea of what could possibly go into such a dish as made by Orihime. Then he recalled what Rangiku had told him earlier about Orihime and cucumbers and all color drained from his face.

A few seconds later, he found himself in Orihime's kitchen, staring blankly at her back as he tried not to be mortified by the thoughts swimming through his head. Even his inner hollow was uncharacteristically quiet.

It wasn't until Orihime started humming cheerfully and making a 'thwack, thwack, thwack' noise with her oversized knife against the cutting board that Ichigo started to panic just a bit. The way she was gleefully chopping those cucumbers was starting to make him want to cross his legs.

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Thirty minutes (and several cucumbers) later, Ichigo and Orihime were sitting around the kotatsu in her small living room. Aside from some uncharacteristically colorful miso soup and some suspiciously normal-looking steamed rice, a dish of cucumber salad was placed squarely in front of Ichigo. He had watched Orihime assemble it, so he knew what was in it; cucumber squares, oil, vinegar, edamame, wasabi, and mangoes. Nothing too wild, but he still had a sinking feeling looking at it.

"Itadakimasu!" Orihime chirped, picking up her spoon and starting in on her miso. Ichigo did likewise, hoping to avoid the cucumbers for as long as humanly possible.

"Ita... dakimasu."

After a few minutes, though, Ichigo noticed Orihime giving him increasingly long, curious looks. He figured his discomfort was showing, so he forced a smile and started eating a bit faster. How could he ask her exactly where those cucumbers had been? There was no way that would ever be considered proper dinner conversation.

"Kurosaki-kun?" she finally asked, her head cocked to the side like a curious puppy, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Inoue," Ichigo replied, perhaps a bit too eagerly, "This is... This is really good!" He thought for a second that he saw a flash of disappointment cross her face before she laughed nervously. Didn't girls like it when guys complimented their cooking?

"I-It's alright, Kurosaki-kun," she said, rubbing the back of her head, "If it's too strong for you, I can make something else." Oh. She thought he didn't like the food. Ironically, this was oddly normal fare compared to what Orihime normally made. For once, the food was just fine.

"No, it's... It's not that," he said, glancing off to the side, "I was just... I saw Rangiku-san today." There was a pause as Orihime's cheeks colored ever so slightly. She sat her chopsticks down with a small 'clink' before laughing nervously.

"Eh heh, yeah!" she affirmed, apparently trying to look at anything in the room but Ichigo, "She was over! She's... She's doing a lot better now! Umm... she didn't... say anything weird, did she?" Now it was Ichigo's turn to feel his own cheeks heat up. Oh god, it was true. He couldn't even look at her, so how was he going to talk to her about this? He couldn't just come right out and ask her!

"Just... Just normal Rangiku-san things." He stumbled over the words, losing his nerve at the last second. He kicked himself for his cowardice, then regathered his courage. Taking a deep breath, he tried to be as nonchalant as possible when he asked his next question.

"She didn't..." he started, paused, redoubled his efforts, and then continued, "She didn't do anything weird to you, did she?"

If Orihime was slighyly pink before, she was quickly heading straight towards crimson now.

"W-Weird?" she stammered, pretty obviously wanting to avoid the question, "Of... Of course not! We just talked about... about girl things!" Well, he figured that might be a safe topic.

"Girl things?"

"You know!" Orihime volunteered, jumping on the subject change with both feet, "Like make up! And clothes! And shoes! And boys!" There was a pause after that last one. Ichigo perked up, actually meeting her eyes now. This only lasted a second before Ichigo hid his face with his drink and Orihime quickly backpedaled, flailing a bit.

"N-N-Not boys we know, just celebrities and things, 'cause it's not like that and she definitely wasn't doing anything perverted with me o-or anything because that would just be weird, right?" Ichigo almost spit out his drink.

"You..." he swallowed and wiped his mouth, his worst fears confirmed, "You can tell me, Inoue. I'll go beat her up for you." Of course, that only caused Orihime to flail more.

"No no no!" Her hands were a blur in front of her face now. "You don't have to do that! I mean, she was just... just... t-teaching me things." She was now speeding readily past crimson and right into violet territory. Ichigo's skin tone wasn't faring much better, either. He reasoned that it was a good thing they were both staring really hard at their laps right now.

"What... What kind of things?"

Ichigo looked up to see Orihime glancing shyly up at him from beneath lidded eyes. Had she always been this pretty? He looked away quickly, cursing his mutinous thoughts.

"Umm..." Orihime began, her words halting, "Close your eyes, okay?" Ichigo glanced back over towards her for a second before nodding mutely and doing as he was told. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves, hoping he wasn't going to deeply regret whatever Orihime was about to do.

There was a shifting noise and the rustle of cloth and Ichigo could tell that meant she was moving closer. A few seconds later, he could sense her gentle reiatsu and feel her breath right beside him. Time seemed to slow as he waited, heart thudding in his ears, straining not to open his eyes.

Finally, it happened. Her soft lips pressed against his cheek for a few seconds, maybe lingering a few seconds too long, before withdrawing. It felt like the tension from a thunderstorm breaking.

"You can open them now," she said meekly.

Ichigo opened his eyes to see Orihime sitting beside him, legs tucked beneath her, her balled up little hands in her lap. She was watching her knees intently, as though she was afraid to look up. He wheedled for a second, unsure what to do.

"What are you waiting for, you idiot? Kiss her back!"

'Shut up! I don't need your help!'

"I-I'm sorry if... if you didn't like it, Kurosaki-kun," Orihime began to apologize, responding to his suddenly irritated expression, "You can... You can forget I did that if--"

Oh hell no. There was no way he was going to let her apologize for that. There was also no way he was going to let that white bastard make him feel like he was less of a man, either. So before Orihime could finish her sentence, Ichigo pitched forward, seized her by the shoulders, and captured her lips with his.

This was his first time kissing a girl. Even so, he shoved down any nervousness or insecurity that cropped up hard. He was determined to do this right, dammit. For just a second, he was worried that he may have been kissing her too hard - she wasn't as strong as him, and she was ridiculously soft and yielding wherever he touched - but then she began to return the kiss. She nipped shyly at his bottom lip, brushing it gently with her teeth. There was a light pressure on his chest for a second before he realized that she had brought her hands up to rest there. He ran his tongue along the part of her lips in retaliation, and when they opened further for him, he took full advantage of the opportunity to press further and explore her mouth.

After what seemed like forever, he finally came up for air. Her eyes fluttered open, regarding him with more than a dose of confusion. He couldn't help but notice how full and moist her lips looked after being kissed.

"Don't apologize, alright?" Ichigo grumbled, ignoring the protests from his white counterpart as he sat back a bit, "You didn't do anything wrong." Orihime blinked before breaking out into a nervous grin.

"You... You think so?" she asked, a hint of laughter beneath her words, "That's... That's good! I mean, you're a good kisser, Kurosaki-kun!" Ichigo suddenly became very conscious of the heat in his cheeks.

"Th-Thanks," he stammered, before catching himself and going back over what she said one more time, "Wait, what are you comparing me to?" Suddenly, Ichigo began to wonder if he should feel inferior or not. It was hard to believe that someone as sweet and unassuming as Orihime would have more experience than him at this.

"O-Oh! N-N-Nothing!" Orihime quickly corrected, which only had the undesired effect of making Ichigo more suspicious, "Rangiku-san just taught me some things, I guess, s-so..." Oh, that explained it. And now, there was that unbidden flash of jealousy again; it wasn't just his counterpart that was feeling it this time. The idea of someone else touching Orihime like that - he convinced himself it was 'taking advantage' of her - rankled him.

"If you don't like it, you just have to be better than that stupid woman!"

'Would you shut the hell up?! I don't need your input, thanks!'

Ichigo wasn't sure if he moved next, or if it was his counterpart moving for him. Either way, he jerked forward again, slamming hard into Orihime's mouth, effectively silencing her. This time, there was no hesitation on her part; she picked right back up where she left off with the last kiss. She still held back a bit, coyly nipping and teasing Ichigo's tongue to press forward that much harder, but now it seemed less shy and more calculated. She was goading him forward on purpose. Instead of being the least bit weirded out by this revelation, though, Ichigo found that he kind of enjoyed it.

As if to prove the point, he felt one of Orihime's hands trail from his chest to his arm, and from his arm down to one of the hands that was gripping her shoulder. She gently pried the hand away and guided it to the firm, round breast beside it; as if to instruct him, she even squeezed his hand.

Ichigo paused as the realization that his hand was now covering Orihime's tit hit him. His hand was on her tit. Just to make sure it wasn't a dream, he gave her a firm squeeze; the flesh underneath her soft sweater was warm and supple, with just enough give to it to bounce right back after being squeezed. Even better, as he massaged it, he could feel a tiny pebble poking through the fabric; he realized with no shortage of embarrassment that this must be her nipple, and that what he was doing must have made it hard. He must have paused in his fit of self-consciousness, because Orihime drew back from his lips just a bit to look at him quizzically.

"You can, umm," she started, her voice quiet with shyness, "You can touch them as much as you want. Under my shirt. I-If you want to, I mean."

"Err... sure," he responded, certain that his face looked strained and anxious. He ran his hand beneath the hem of Orihime's sweater, grazing the taut skin of her stomach before reaching one of her breasts. Once there, he caressed the firm mound as gently as he could; he told himself it was out of consideration for her, but in reality, it was mostly because he was intimidated at the prospect of actually touching a real, live girl's boob. Watching his hand curiously, Orihime began to pull up on the hem of her sweater, revealing her stomach and a pink, lacy bra. Ichigo froze as he caught sight of the pale round breasts peeking shyly out from underneath the fuzzy sweater that was now bunched up around her collarbone.

Orihime must have noticed his hesitation, because the next thing she did shocked him out of his stupor.

"Go, Kurosaki-kun, go!" she cheered with all the fierce determination that one usually reserves for sporting events, "You can do it! I believe in you!" And with that, she seized both of his hands and put them firmly on her breasts, giving them a squeeze.

"O-Oi," he grumbled, embarrassed at needing to be cheered on, "I can do it!" And to prove the point, he tugged the lacy hem of Orihime's bra down beneath the curve of her breast, causing her hard, rosy pink nipples to spring forward. The tight straps now held her breasts up like a harness, presented higher than they normally would have been. This sight alone, a mixture of shyness and lewdness, was enough to make Ichigo pause again; it also made him take notice that his pants had suddenly become irritatingly tight.

Determined to keep her too busy to notice the growing bulge in his jeans, Ichigo pushed himself forward and gently kissed Orihime's right breast. He wrapped his lips around the small pink nub, drawing it into his mouth and sucking lightly. With a delighted little gasp, Orihime responded by wrapping her arms around his back and threading her fingers through his hair.

And with that little bit of encouragement, Ichigo experimented with that breast as much as his thus-far limited imagination would let him. He flicked his tongue over the pebble-like nipple, then circled her areola, then went back over it with his teeth. The other one didn't want for attention, either; he had a hand cupped over it, alternately massaging and pinching that nipple as well.

Orihime, meanwhile, was squirming beneath him, arching her back into his touch. She pulled her feet from beneath her bottom, drawing them to the side so they could lean back a bit further. As she did so, one of her knees brushed the crotch of Ichigo's jeans. Ichigo blinked, hoping against hope that she hadn't noticed his erection just then. He got a sinking feeling in his stomach a second later when Orihime froze beneath him.

"A-Ahh, Kurosaki-kun?" she asked, drawing his face away from her breast. Ichigo dreaded whatever she was about to say. He was sure she'd call him a pervert or run from the room. Maybe she'd even beat him with a plate of cucumbers. Instead, he saw that she was wearing a curious expression.

"Is it hard?"

Ichigo was seriously beginning to wonder how much stranger his day could get. Maybe he was hallucinating this whole thing. Maybe Hiyori hit him one time too many in the head during training. Maybe...

His thoughts froze in their tracks as Orihime reached for the button of his jeans. He fought the urge to scoot away as fast as he could, opting instead to stare at Orihime with a mortified look on his face.

"Inoue, what are you--"

"It's okay, Kurosaki-kun!" she replied, her voice confident, but still somewhat shy, "Rangiku-san told me what to do!"

It was at this point that he realized exactly what Rangiku had been up to the entire time. She hadn't been molesting Orihime; she'd been telling her what to do with him. He wasn't sure if he should be angry that the older woman set him up like this, or relieved that Orihime seemed perfectly fine with all this. He settled instead for being embarrassed that the girl in front of him was now unzipping his jeans.

As the denim parted, it revealed the red boxers he'd thrown on this morning before training (the red had been for luck in not getting his nose broken again, and look how that had turned out). Ichigo sat back on his hands, anxiously watching Orihime's curious face as she tugged the fabric down. He winced as she uncovered his erect cock, his nervousness pounding in his ears. It was already standing at attention, as though it was waiting for her to touch it; the foreskin was still covering most of the head, and a small drop of clear fluid had gathered at the tip. As Orihime paused, regarding it with a look of quiet surprise, his trepidation grew. Would she think it was weird or ugly? Too small? Too big? It wasn't exactly like other guys seeing him use the urinal at school was preparation for this moment.

"It's cute!"

Oh God, what? Cute? Of all the words Orihime could've chosen, Ichigo didn't think there was one quite as emasculating as 'cute'. Hello Kitty was cute; dicks were many things, but they were not cute.

"Well, I mean, it looks... strong?" she backtracked, noticing the look on his face, "Strong and dashing and--"

"Inoue," Ichigo grumbled, hiding his face in his hand, "Just... knock it off. It's alright."

"Eh heh," she laughed a bit nervously, "A-Alright. But... This is the first time I've seen one, so... Is it alright if I play with it a little?"

It was official; Ichigo had died and been reincarnated into an H manga.

"It... It's alright, y-yeah," he said, trying to keep at least a pretense of calmness, "You can do whatever you want."

"Thank you, Kurosaki-kun," she said quietly, "I won't disappoint you, I promise."

And with that, Orihime favored him with a shy smile and reached out to touch him. The tip of her finger brushed the underside of his cock gently, almost as if she was afraid it would bite her. Even so, she watched it intently, probably to see if it would do anything interesting. After a couple more brushes like that, she finally became bold enough to slide the foreskin down over the head.

"Ah! It just popped out!" Ichigo wasn't sure if he wanted to die from embarrassment or desire; was she going to narrate every little thing it did like that? And even if she did, somehow, Ichigo didn't think he'd really mind that much; for as embarrassing as it was, it was also endearing, in its own Orihime way.

While Ichigo was busy being mortified, Orihime had taken the opportunity to rub her finger against the divet just beneath the head of his cock. It wasn't that much different from the way one scratches the chin of a cat, Ichigo reasoned, a blush spreading across his cheeks. She was leaning close enough to it now for him to feel her breath as she laughed softly.

"Hi, there," she breathed softly, her heavily lidded eyes watching it keenly from beneath thick lashes. Ichigo's cock rose proudly up to meet her as she wrapped one soft hand around it, squeezing just hard enough to be felt and pulling upwards in one smooth motion. Ichigo himself drew in a sharp breath as she continued, feeling his member twitch in anticipation beneath Orihime's warm skin. Just when he thought this whole situation couldn't get any more embarrassing or arousing, Orihime did something that made his heart stop.

She leaned forward every so slightly and kissed it, right on the tip.

Ichigo pretty much melted at that. He figured that if there was some way to combine an AV actress and a basket full of kittens, it wouldn't reach half the level of cute sexiness Orihime had displayed with that action alone. Which suddenly didn't matter much anymore anyway, because she wasted no time in moving forward to engulf his member with her mouth.

Eyes drifting shut, Ichigo's mind was flooded with the hot wetness now surrounding his cock. He had never felt anything like this before in his life. As he leaned back to give Orihime better access, he was sure he heard himself groan, the noise just barely loud enough to be heard. He threaded his fingers through her hair, his hand curving around the side of her head. His grip subtly guided her movements as she bobbed up and down. Better yet, the way she pursed her lips, the way she rubbed him with her tongue, it was all almost too good to be true.

And then, just as suddenly as she'd begun, Orihime stopped, removing his rod from her mouth with a small pop. She smiled fondly up at Ichigo, still stroking away with her hand.

"I got it nice and wet, so now I can do this!" she said proudly, releasing the pulsing member and cupping both breasts in her hands. Ichigo stared, wide-eyed, having only the vaguest notion of what she was about to do.

"What are you--"

But it was too late. Before he could finish his sentence, Orihime had already begun to nestle his cock between her generous mounds. As the warm cleavage wrapped completely around him and began to stroke smoothly, something within Ichigo's brain decided he could handle this no longer and snapped entirely. Orihime looked up just in time to watch his eyes roll into the back of his head and his upper body pitch backwards onto the floor in a dead faint.

Startled and frightened, Orihime dropped what she was doing and, forgetting her dubious state of dress, climbed on top of Ichigo.

"Kurosaki-kun?" she asked, almost panicking, "Are you okay? I... I think I killed him!"

_________________________________________________________________

As Ichigo came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer in Orihime's living room. No, now he was laying on his back in the same clothes he'd passed out in, a bright blue sky stretching endlessly overhead. As he blinked blearily, a white cloud scuttled across the field of his vision. He lifted a hand to cover his eyes and block out the intruding light as he fully registered just where he was. He knew that if he were to look to his left or right, he'd see the sideways buildings of his own inner world.

This realization availed him nothing, however, because as soon as he came to it, a huge white sword implanted itself in the steel and glass building right beside his head. As powdered bits of glass sprayed upward and outward, Ichigo fled the damage, nearly pole vaulting backwards in the process as he moved with all the momentum he could muster.

"JUST WHAT THE HELL DO YOU CALL THAT, YOU IDIOT?!"

His white counterpart jerked the sword free of the building by its hilt wrappings, an angry scowl plastered on his pale face.

"What are you talking about?!" Ichigo shot back angrily, getting to his feet, "I was... I was doing just fine!" He knew he was probably embarrassingly red, but he didn't care. How the hell was this idiot, who was only good for fighting and making snide comments, going to tell him how to handle a girl?

"You passed out from getting a titty fuck. That's not fine, that's pathetic." Ichigo bristled, mostly because he didn't want to admit that his white twin was right.

"Give me a damn break, alright?!" he yelled, "I've never done this before!"

"'I've never done this before'," the hollow sneered, mocking him as he lazily twirled his white Zangetsu by its hilt wrapping. Ichigo wanted to deck the arrogant ass then and there. "What kind of candy assed excuse is that? Is that what you're going to say when you can't get her off?"

"What does it even matter to you?!" Ichigo threw back, mostly saying the first things that came to mind, "Why do you care? I thought all you cared about was fighting!" The hollow's face cracked into a maniacal grin as he regarded his darker counterpart.

"Why do I care? Are you stupid? Fighting isn't the only thing that requires a killer instinct! What kind of man just lays back and lets his woman do all the work?" Ichigo was beginning to feel even more uncomfortable, since he wasn't exactly wrong there. That damned hollow was hitting him right where it hurt. As his tirade continued, his smile faded and he began to regard Ichigo with an infuriatingly superior expression, looking down his nose at him.

"What do you think she's going to think? That you're lazy? Selfish? That you don't really want her? Look, Ichigo - if you strike out, I strike out. If you look bad, I look bad. I don't know about you, but I refuse to throw away my pride like that. If you're not going to step up and do this right, then I'll do it for you."

Ichigo's face went from it's customary scowl to a furious snarl in the space of a few seconds. That white bastard's last statement finally pushed him forward and, suddenly feeling Zangetsu's heft in his hands, he lunged towards his other half, fully intending to bisect him.

"Shut up!" he roared, sparks flying as his sword connected with its white counterpart, "I won't let you near her!" The hollow's placid expression stretched and twisted into one of sadistic mirth as Ichigo pushed him back through the force of his blow.

"That's it! That's what I want to see! Get pissed off, Ichigo! Give it everything you've got! BE FUCKING AGGRESSIVE ALREADY!"

"I don't need you to tell me that!"

Ichigo pulled his sword back to ready for the next strike, fully intent on wiping the annoying crazy grin off that hollow's damn pale face. He put his entire momentum into his next thrust, the kinetic energy traveling from his back to his shoulder and into his arm, ready to explode the moment his sword finally met its target...

_________________________________________________________

"Kurosaki-kun! Kurosaki-kun!"

Orihime was shaking him by the shoulders now, nearly in tears. He hadn't so much as twitched since he'd passed out, laying flat in the place he'd fallen on Orihime's floor.

"Maybe I should give him mouth-to-mouth," she thought out loud, casting a worrisome look over Ichigo's lips. After some preliminary blushing - and reminding herself that she'd touched way worse than his lips tonight - Orihime pinched his nose closed and then leaned forward. She came just a hair's breadth away from his lips before she hesitated, heart thumping in her chest.

And then, Ichigo's eyes flew open.

"I won't let you beat me!"

Ichigo's hands shot up and seized Orihime by the shoulders, causing her own eyes to widen in shock. She was still staring at him in awe when he roared, pitched forward, and rolled her over onto her back, pinning her beneath him. For a moment, Orihime simply lay looking up at him, her semi-nude breasts heaving from the commotion. And then--

"If that's how it is, then I won't lose either! This heart of mine is telling me to grasp victory!"

Oh. She thought he was roleplaying. Somehow. At least she'd never think his outbursts were strange, Ichigo mused wryly.

Instead of giving her opportunity to continue, however, Ichigo occupied her mouth with his, kissing her firmly and deeply. As her hands were moving up to cup his face, his were moving down, roughly shoving her long skirt up her thighs. He almost hesitated when he felt the plain cotton of her panties, but spurred himself on through the mortification and fear, determined not to let his hollow be right again. He was going to do this and do it right, dammit.

Ichigo pulled away from the kiss and looked down at Orihime, who was blinking back at him with wide, curious eyes. Finally, for the first time since they began, he smiled one of his regular cocky smiles.

"Give me these," Ichigo said, letting some of the mischief shine through in his voice. Grasping the waistband of her panties - no, grasping his destiny! - he pulled sharply, causing her to blush and stammer.

"K-K-Kurosaki-kun!" she exclaimed, wriggling to help the cloth come free of her hips and upper thighs, "What are-- What are you doing?" Now she was finally showing some of the embarrassment he'd had earlier; they weren't so different after all. As the white cotton pulled free of her feet, Orihime pressed her legs shut out of reflex.

"You had your fun," he said lightly, "Now it's my turn. Let's see what you've got. Open up." Slowly, chewing shyly on a fingernail as she did so, Orihime spread her knees apart before Ichigo's eager, curious eyes. Her legs parted to reveal something he'd only ever seen in pictures (which, coincidentally, all belonged entirely to Kon and not ever to him at all). Her mound was scattered with short, mahogany hair, leading down in a neatly-trimmed strip to a thin line. A few stray pink petals peeked shyly from behind it, led at the top by the proud and defiant pink head emerging from the folds. The whole affair was glistening with a thin, slick glaze, like a dessert.

Somewhere, Ichigo thought he might have heard angels singing.

"Are you wet?" he asked, that hint of mischief lying beneath otherwise nonchalant words. To emphasize what he was saying, he reached forward and gave the hard pink knot at the top a gentle squeeze. As much as he tried to pretend he was ignoring them, he really had learned something about female anatomy from overhearing the other guys' conversations in the locker room at school. This much was evident when he heard Orihime gasp from his simple ministrations.

"N-No, I'm not!" she lied, turning her head away as a pink tint crept over her cheeks, "That's an unfair question!" She wriggled a bit as he massaged the blushing bud between his thumb and forefinger, almost as if her hips were trying to establish a tiny, halting rhythm of their own. With the fingers of his other hand, Ichigo prodded her outer lips, pushing them apart to see the shining, variegated pink folds within.

"You asked me the same thing earlier," he replied innocently, "How is that unfair?" He ceased his attentions toward Orihime's clit (causing a small squeak of protest on her part) to trail his fingers down either side of her inner lips, finally pressing his long middle finger into her soft center.

"It just... It just is!" Orihime said, with a bit of a determined pout. This didn't stop the motion of Ichigo's finger, though. She made a small, sharp noise as he watched her consume his finger in fascination. As the slick walls closed in around his digit, Ichigo marveled at her tight grip. Upon closer inspection, he finally figured out why.

"You're a virgin?" he asked, genuinely curious. As soon as the words left his mouth, he mentally kicked himself. Of course she'd still be a virgin, this was Orihime he was thinking about here. As a matter of fact, it then occurred to him that he didn't have any more experience than she did. Well, at least their identical blushes weren't the only thing they had in common.

"Is that bad?" she asked shyly, nearly trying to hide behind her hands again. As he worked his finger back and forth, Ichigo tried to give her an encouraging smile.

"Nah," he responded, locking eyes with her for a second before looking away, "It's alright. So am I." Anywhere in the room would be better to look than at her face while he made that admission. What followed was something of an awkward pause filled only with the soft sounds his finger was making against her. So really, Ichigo should've expected what happened next.

"Don't worry, Kurosaki-kun!" Orihime said, somewhat breathless, "We'll... We'll do just fine!" At her encouragement, Ichigo forgot the encroaching embarrassment he'd been flirting with and grinned again.

"Sure we will," he agreed, leaning forward between her legs. Before she could protest, he'd fastened his lips around her clit, closing his eyes and drawing it as far into his mouth as it would go. He was rewarded with a sharp gasp and fingers threading through his hair, Orihime's hips bucking ever-so-slightly beneath his mouth. Her flesh was salty and somewhat sweet, growing increasingly well-lubricated by the motion of Ichigo's finger.

Her cute little gasps and moans, the arch of her knees over his shoulders, those were taking their toll on Ichigo as well. He found that his erection had literally begun to ache with desire. It arched and reared its head like a proud dragon, and was generally making its presence known by being in the way a lot. Finally frustrated with it, he pulled away from Orihime and began to shed his clothes; pants and boxers first, then his t-shirt. Whether out of forgetfulness, or because he had more pressing matters in mind, he neglected entirely to remove his socks.

Orihime watched the entire spectacle with a mixture of fascination and curiosity. Finally, she followed suit, leaning up only enough to tug off her sweater and bra, and lifting her hips to discard her skirt. As the last of the cloth left her ankles, Ichigo stopped, his arms still half-way out of his shirt, to take in the sight. She was lovely, all soft curves and demure looks, and best of all, now she was completely naked.

Finally flinging the clinging t-shirt away (and if the clink of ceramic was any indication, onto the dinner dishes on the kotatsu), Ichigo grinned down at the girl hiding behind her hands underneath him. He planted one hand beside her head and leaned forward over her, brushing her lips lightly in the process. As his other hand subtly maneuvered him into position, hers were traveling across the planes of his chest to his shoulders to latch around the back of his neck. He could also feel her knees lightly brushing either side of his hips.

"You ready?" he asked against her mouth, teasing both sets of lips lightly as he did so. She began to nod, but stopped short, her face looking for all the world as though she had just remembered that she'd left the stove on.

"A-Ahh!" she exclaimed, turning to grab her skirt from where she'd discarded it on the floor and causing Ichigo to back up a bit to give her room, "I almost forgot!" With a flourish, she pulled a small square packet out of the pocket of the skirt.

"Ta dah!" Orihime said triumphantly, handing the condom over, "Rangiku-san left this for you!"

Ichigo stared at it for a few good seconds before moving to open it. As he removed the little latex ring, he felt a small flush of embarrassment; of course he'd forget something like that. That embarrassment was forgotten when he looked at what he held between his fingers, though.

"Inoue?"

"Do you know how to put it on?" she asked, cocking her head to the side, "Because she showed me how, if you don't."

"It's not that," Ichigo responded dryly, "It's just... couldn't she have given you one that was... normal?"

The condom was, of course, bright red. It also smelled vaguely of strawberries and coconuts.

"I think it's nice," Orihime replied with something of a pout. Rather than protest, Ichigo had already begun putting it on; why look a gift horse in the mouth?

And there it was; a brief pause and then they picked right back up where they'd stopped. Orihime drew him back down to the floor, suspended above her and kissing her lightly. He realigned his hips with hers, the tip of his cock nudging her lips apart ever-so-slightly. Slowly, he pushed inward as her flesh gave way and welcomed him; for her part, Orihime gasped sharply as her arms wrapped tightly over Ichigo's shoulders and around his neck. He watched through heavily-lidded eyes as her eyes pinched shut.

"You okay?" he asked softly, fighting the urge to thrust forward with as much force as he could muster. The heat and softness surrounding him were intoxicating, nearly causing him to lose his senses in the fog of pleasure. Then, to his delight, Orihime slowly, timidly, began to move back against him.

"U-Uhn," she nodded, giving him a somewhat strained, but genuine, smile, "It's alright. It only hurts a little."

And that was good enough for him. Breathlessly, he pushed all the way in before starting that ancient, carnal dance. Orihime's knees slowly drew further up, giving him better access to her heat and inviting him further inside. She didn't seem to mind that after his initial gentleness, Ichigo had begun to move more vigorously within her. In fact, after being initially timid and quiet, she was soon breathing encouragement into his ears, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. Compared to some of the other things he'd had stuck into his body, those felt downright delicious.

In fact, the whole experience was quickly becoming deliriously good for Ichigo. He almost felt as though he was swimming in a warm ocean, Orihime's small actions causing him to swim harder, push farther. Every time she made a small noise, he wanted to cause her to make a louder one. When she moved against him, he wanted her to do it harder the next time. However lightly she kissed him, he was determined to return it that much harder. He even vaguely wondered if her neighbors could hear them; he then decided he didn't actually care if they could. In fact, the idea kind of thrilled him; he could picture some prudish little housewife covering her son's ears in the apartment below. He couldn't fight the tiny smirk that flitted across his face at the thought.

Even stranger, as Orihime goaded him forward, Ichigo could feel something else surfacing in the back of his mind. It seethed through his blood and slunk beneath his skin, stretching and flexing; he could distantly hear a breathless voice yawn to life again. His inner hollow had reawakened after the beating he'd given him; instead of fighting or needling him, however, this time he was moving with him. It didn't feel as though he was in danger of being dispossessed of his senses at the moment; the hollow simply seemed to be along for the ride.

'Who invited you?' Ichigo thought in his general direction, too preoccupied to muster any real animosity towards his counterpart at the moment. Indeed, his other half didn't even bother to answer, as he seemed rather preoccupied himself.

His attention snapped back to Orihime as he felt her body begin to tense, her grip tightening and her inner walls clamping around him. The noises she was beginning to make were more urgent, almost close to whimpering now. Perversely enough, she didn't seem to be in any pain; in fact, what Ichigo could make out of her words was urging him to continue, begging that he not stop what he was doing.

"Kurosaki-kun," she breathed, damp hair sticking to her cheeks, "S-Something's coming...!"

Before Ichigo could ask what she meant, he felt it. She clutched at him desperately, her feet finally closing him in as they crossed behind the small of his back. She rocked into him one more time before freezing with a shudder. Then she cried out sharply, her soft walls folding over him in warm waves. As her rhythm subsided, she nuzzled into the curve that connected Ichigo's shoulder to his neck, moving her lips against his skin in something of a murmur.

As the heat from Orihime's body washed over him, Ichigo felt it spurring him on even further. One hand had found its way to her hip, the fingers indenting her flesh, squeezing as the tension mounted in his lower abdomen. He couldn't stop now; it was as though he was running a race and the finish line was just in sight. He pushed ahead, doubling his speed, that goal just within reach.

He knew what it was when it happened. He'd done that before, when he thought no one was watching, or listening. But he never imagined it would feel like this inside of a girl - of Orihime, of all girls. The tension left his body in a warm gush then, snapping back on him like a rubber band and causing his muscles to slacken. He almost collapsed onto Orihime; his strong arms saved him from that as he leaned into them hard, breathing heavily from his exertion. Sweat beaded on his brow, shoulders, and back, and then trailed down as he barely suspended himself above her.

After catching his breath for a minute, he cracked his eyes open to look down at Orihime. She was smiling up at him, arms extended around his neck, and looking for all the world like she was waiting for another kiss. Ichigo returned her smile and obliged her, leaning down and nibbling her bottom lip. After losing another few seconds to her sweet kisses, she pulled back and favored him with another sunny smile.

"See, Kurosaki-kun?" she said lightly, tapping him on the nose, "We did just fine!"

_________________________________________________________

After untangling their limbs and casting several shy looks at one another, Orihime declared it to be bath time. She quickly found robes for both of them and ushered Ichigo into her bathroom, leaving him to his own devices once there. Since he was a guest, she had reasoned, he should take a bath first.

When he emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, wearing what he assumed was one of her brother's old bathrobes and smelling of green tea and grapefruit shampoo, he was greeted by an entirely different scene than the one he'd left.

For one thing, the dinner dishes were cleared away. The oddly colored miso soup and plates of cucumber salad had vanished, along with their rice, drinks, chopsticks, and any crumbs they might have left behind. Ichigo vaguely wondered if he shouldn't have finished his dinner first, or if he might not get hungry later, but after a few more seconds realized he was too tired to really care.

The next thing he noticed was that their clothes were nowhere in sight. Orihime had found his shirt on the table, dripping with miso and soy sauce, and spirited it off to the washing machine. The rest of his clothes, smelling of training and teenaged boy, had also met the same fate. For that reason, she insisted he stay the night; there was plenty of room underneath her kotatsu, and it was better than a drafty old warehouse any day of the week. Ichigo found that he really couldn't disagree with that assessment. Training, their little romp, and a hot bath had made his muscles feel like jelly.

So that was how he'd come to find himself beneath the cover of Orihime's kotatsu, waiting for her to finish her bath. The heat from the table's fan along with his earlier exertion combined to quickly make him incredibly drowsy. He had wanted to keep himself awake until she'd emerged from the bath, but after no more than ten minutes, he found he just couldn't do it. Sleep overtook him, deep and peaceful. There were no bad dreams, no battles with his hollow; in fact, the white fiend was curled up inside his mind, just as tired and satiated and as close to peaceful as he ever was.

This was how Orihime found him when she finished her bath, still wrapped in her fluffy bathrobe and with her hair twisted up in a towel. As she took her hair down from the towel, letting it fall down her back in wet locks, she smiled down at Ichigo. His eyes were lightly shut, lips barely parted, just like that night months ago when she'd entered his room without his knowledge. She felt her face heat at the memory; it wasn't as though they hadn't done more intimate things than that now, but it was still a fond memory of hers.

Kneeling beside him, she brushed some hair out of his face and leaned over him. Had her own hair been dry, it probably would have fallen onto his cheeks; as it was, though, it stayed in place, perhaps dangling just a bit over him instead. She leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss over his forehead. He answered with sleepy murmurs - something about bears and radishes - but didn't wake. Still smiling, Orihime was just about to curl up beneath the kotatsu with him when the doorbell rang.

The next second, she was on her feet, heading to the door. It was getting late now - past nine already, at least - so Orihime thought it was kind of odd that someone would be out visiting so late. As she cracked open the door, though, she realized exactly why they were ringing her bell.

"Rangiku-san?" she asked, startled, "What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"Orihime-chan!" the buxom blonde replied, reaching past the door to scoop Orihime up into a bear hug against her breasts. Then, almost as an afterthought, her eyebrows quirked up as she noticed a familiar reiatsu. Her grip on Orihime loosened as she peered around the door frame toward the kotatsu.

"Ohhhh," Rangiku's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "So he did come to see you! I knew he had it in him!" She ignored the younger girl's rapidly reddening face as she stood in the doorway, ready to exchange a quick bit of gossip.

"Umm, y-yes," Orihime stuttered, blushing down at her hands, "He's going to stay the night." Rangiku's eyes got a familiar mischievous twinkle to them.

"Hooooh?" she asked slyly, poking her redheaded friend in the ribs, "You look pretty pleased with yourself already, though. Why, Orihime-chan, you're practically glowing!" Orihime flailed, waving her hands in front of herself.

"R-Rangiku-san!" she protested, "That's not-- I am not!" Checking to make sure Ichigo was still asleep, Rangiku leaned closer.

"So how was it?" Rangiku asked in a hushed tone, "Is that zanpakuto of his just for show?" Orihime thought she might become a small puddle on the floor out of sheer embarrassment.

"That's-- You-- I--" she stammered, trying to find the right words to put in the right order, "....No." Suddenly, Orihime found her toes to the be the most amazing, interesting things in the world.

"I knew it!" Rangiku said triumphantly, "Renji owes me two hundred mon!" Orihime still seemed absorbed in whatever was happening on the floor.

"It was... It was really nice. Thanks for your help, Rangiku-san - it really did turn out for the best, just like you said before." A Cheshire grin split Rangiku's face.

"Ah! Now if the film turns out as well, we'll be all set!" she said chipperly, causing Orihime to cock her head and look up at her with wide, curious eyes.

"Film?"

"Oh!" Rangiku said, almost as if remembering something, "Don't you worry about that! Look, Orihime-chan, I've got to get back before my Captain has an aneurysm! Tell Ichigo I said hi, okay?"

"O-Okay!" Orihime smiled as she shut the door behind Rangiku. Then, she turned back to Ichigo and the warm blankets beneath which he lay with a small laugh.

_____________________________________________________

Ichigo spent the next two months wondering why every shinigami he met complimented him on the size of his zanpakuto, usually with a snicker. On the plus side, the Shinigami Women's Association's budget was in the black for the rest of the year, although Nanao didn't strictly agree with the way Rangiku accomplished it.