Finally, no longer procrastinating!
Jan. 6th, 2010 07:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
queenofchalicesTitle: The Devil's Plaything, Chapter 8 - Another Day
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.
________________________________________________________
The weekend passed without incident.
Saturday morning, Ichigo slipped out of his house before his sisters or father could question him and made his way to Urahara's shop. The older demon was, of course, curious as to how everything had turned out, and Ichigo found that after spending a week with him, he felt as though he did owe him an explanation of his current situation.
"So that's it, huh?" he said thoughtfully, after Ichigo had told him the whole story, "You're going to actually be a noble now, in a house of your own. With a friend, even! Saa, I guess you don't need this old man anymore, hmm?" Something about his tone told Ichigo that he wasn't exactly serious, but he felt he should comment on it nonetheless.
"That's not true," he protested evenly, "Besides, I'd rather learn from you than that belligerent midget." His arms crossed with a huff.
"Ora ora," Urahara replied, waving his paper fan lazily in front of himself, "Give Kuchiki-san the benefit of the doubt, Kurosaki-san. I doubt she's as bad as you seem to think she is. Besides, a mentor relationship can be very important." Ichigo rolled his eyes; he wasn't in the mood for a speech on the value of community or whatever.
"I can get that from the people in my House," he grumbled, unmoved. Urahara leaned back on his hands, his countenance also seemingly unimpressed.
"It's not quite the same," the older demon returned, "Besides, the Kuchiki name is a good one. I'm not exactly someone you can just go around sharing your association with to all and sundry, you know." Ichigo raised an eyebrow at this admission.
"What does that mean?" he asked, incredulous, "You did some bad deals or something? Owe someone money?" Urahara chuckled behind his fan.
"No, no, nothing of the sort," he waved the fan dismissively, "I'm just not on the best of terms with the noble houses. Let's leave it at that." Ichigo decided that answers on the topic weren't going to be forthcoming and decided to let it drop for the day.
"Whatever," Ichigo dismissed the topic with the barest hint of frustration, "I gotta get home now. I'm probably going to catch hell from my Dad over this as it is." He scratched the back of his head, sighing. Even though Urahara had said he'd taken care of the situation, he wasn't looking forward to facing his father in the least.
"Ah, I did have a question for you about last night," Urahara interrupted as Ichigo got to his feet from the cushion on which he'd been sitting. An expression of neutral curiosity replaced Ichigo's normal scowl.
"What is it?" His tone was even now, no longer irritated or short-tempered.
"You said the girl's name was Inoue, correct?" Ichigo's expression immediately turned flat and somewhat distant. Great, another weirdo interested in Orihime. He was going to have to speak to her about talking to strange people; they certainly didn't get much stranger than Urahara Kisuke in Ichigo's book.
"Yeah, that's her name," Ichigo huffed, "Don't tell me you want something to do with her now, too." Urahara dismissed him with a broad smile and a wave of his fan.
"No, no," he said lightly, "It's just a name I heard around here a few years ago! I believe I once had an Inoue as one of my customers, actually. Why don't you bring her by sometime?" Ichigo continued to look thoroughly nonplussed at this suggestion.
"I'll see what I can do," he said in a flat tone, "But you'd better not try anything weird on her."
"So cold, Kurosaki-san!" Urahara mock-whined, "I promise I'll be on my best behavior!"
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Oddly enough, Isshin didn't actually say anything to Ichigo about his week-long disappearance. Whatever Urahara told him must have been effective, because it was like he hadn't even been gone a day. He treated him with the same goofy attitude, the same whacked out attacks, and the same annoying volume as ever. Yuzu followed suit, but Ichigo couldn't help but notice that Karin looked like she wasn't buying any of this.
Nothing was said, though. Sunday passed like any other Sunday with the exception of Ichigo scrambling to complete a pile of schoolwork that had accumulated for him over his absence. Presumably, Chad had dropped it off after walking Orihime home from school each day.
And so it was that Monday morning, he trudged bleary-eyed back to his classroom, this time with his inhibitor firmly in place around his wrist.
The first thing that Ichigo noticed upon opening the door to the classroom was that his friends - Chad, Keigo, Mizuiro, Tatsuki, and their group - were engaged in their normal conversation. This morning, however, he noticed a small, black head bobbing through their midst. His molars ground together silently as he realized exactly who was now taking up space among his classmates.
"Good morning, Kurosaki-kun!" Rukia chirped with a small wave.
"Ichigo, you already know her?" Keigo asked, his voice just an octave below a whine, "First Orihime-chan, now this?! You're so cruel! Player!"
And that was when Ichigo noticed it.
The aforementioned redhead hadn't acknowledged him since he'd entered the room, instead talking in hushed tones with Tatsuki. As his eyes lighted on her, he noticed that Orihime's expression was subdued and meek, as though she was tired or sick. It might have been his imagination, but he also thought she looked a bit paler than usual, too.
Before he could say anything, though, her honey-colored eyes flickered up briefly to catch his. He realized too late that he was staring open-mouthed at her, no longer even attempting to hide his curiosity. Just as quickly as her eyes had met his, though, they flicked back towards the floor, heavy-lidded. He watched her lashes veil her downcast eyes as she said something quietly to Tatsuki and moved quickly to her seat.
Tatsuki cast Ichigo a look that he couldn't quite make out - was it concern or pity? - as he looked at her awkwardly and somewhat helplessly. At least she wasn't angry or threatening him, but what about Orihime? She didn't look mad, but she certainly didn't look thrilled to see him, either. That realization lanced him, a small pinch of pain rising unbidden in his chest. Was it possible she blamed him for Friday night? Would Orihime even do something like that?
The world started moving again as Ichigo registered Keigo's continued wailing. He cast the sandy-haired boy a stern look, which did nothing to curtail his temper-tantrum.
"Did you have a fight with Orihime-chan, Ichigo?" the thinner boy asked, causing Ichigo's eye to twitch, "You dumped her, didn't you? You're so cold-hearted! Don't worry, Orihime-chan, I'll comfort you in your time of n--" Luckily for all involved, Tatsuki cuffed him in the back of the head before he could do or say anything else humiliating.
"Settle down, Keigo," she ordered, causing Ichigo to give a relieved sigh as he plopped down in his seat by the window. As the bell rang, he glanced into the glass to see if he could catch a glimpse of Orihime a few seats back from him. She seemed to be worrying her bottom lip, eyes lidded as she fidgeted with her small hands. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, maybe even apologize for all the trouble he'd caused her.
The morning passed at a crawl. Ichigo found himself paying less attention to the lessons in front of him than to the window beside his head and the girl reflected in it. More than once that morning, Ochi-sensei had beaned him with a piece of chalk and sarcastically apologized that her class wasn't as interesting as the pigeons outside.
The only thing that broke the monotony was when Ichigo would feel a sharp gaze land on him from time to time. The one time he looked up to see who was giving him the evil eye, his gaze collided with narrowed, cobalt blue eyes. He snorted derisively in Ishida's direction before turning back to the far more interesting window, knowing he wouldn't dare start anything in the middle of class. Let him keep giving him nasty looks; right now, he had more important things on his mind.
So when the lunch bell finally rang, Ichigo began moving instinctively towards Orihime's desk. She was distracted with packing up for lunch, but when her eyes caught his at last, he registered the fret that consumed her face as she quickly looked down to her desk. This was driving him mad, but he figured that as soon as he could talk to her and find out what was wrong, he could finally relax.
He never made it quite that far, though. A thin, firm hand grabbed his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Ichigo suppressed the urge to growl at the intrusion, but when he turned to see who was invading his personal space this time, he was surprised to see someone other than Rukia.
"Can I have a word with you, Kurosaki?" Ishida asked, his voice as cold as bare steel. While under normal circumstances Ichigo would've gladly went a couple rounds with the bespectacled archer on the roof of the school, today was not exactly a day that he felt like humoring his classmate's aggression.
"Piss off, Ishida," he said dismissively, swatting the hand at his shoulder away, "I've got more important things to take care of." But as he turned back to call to Orihime, his eyes landed on her empty desk. She'd already taken her things and went to sit with the girls in a different part of the classroom. Ichigo felt like hitting something. Well, maybe Ishida would be useful after all.
"Dammit all," he huffed, turning back to the black haired boy behind him, "Fine, what do you want?"
The next few minutes found Ichigo confronting Ishida in the empty locker room just a few doors down from their homeroom. There was almost an electric current between the two boys, a palpable chill in the air as they faced each other down. It occurred to Ichigo that it was probably because they were natural-born enemies. A demon and a demon hunter, there couldn't be a worse match anywhere.
"What do you want?" Ichigo repeated impatiently, "I'm missing lunch for this, you know." It wasn't that he was particularly hungry; it was just that hanging out with Ishida wasn't his idea of an ideal lunch break.
"I don't know how you managed to get away from those constables," Ishida said sternly, crossing his arms across his chest, "But don't think I've forgotten. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from Inoue-san." Ichigo could've sworn he felt the fuse ignite in the back of his head.
"I 'got away' because they finally figured out that I never did anything to her!" Ichigo almost roared, maintaining just enough self-control to keep from shouting, "Where do you get off being so familiar with her, any damn way? What do you even know about her?" At this point, his fist was curled around Ishida's school tie, nearly lifting him off his feet. The black-haired boy's stony gaze didn't waver, though.
"More than you do, I'd wager," he said coldly, "I've known her for months through the Handicraft's Club. Which is more than I can say for someone who seemed to barely register she existed until a week and a half ago." Ichigo dropped Ishida's tie, perhaps stung a bit by the biting accusation. He hadn't just noticed her; he'd known Orihime for years, hadn't he? Ever since she'd brought her dying brother to his father's clinic three years ago, if he was to be perfectly honest with himself. And she was best friends with Tatsuki, whom he'd known since they were both children. So it wasn't like she was a complete stranger; he just couldn't think of anything to say to her all that often.
"You don't know that," Ichigo said, his voice nearly a growl, "I can't say we've always been close, but I've always known she's there." There was a snappish quality to his words, almost like a wounded animal.
"And that's why she's avoiding you today?" Ishida asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a 'clink'. Ichigo fought down the urge to wring his skinny neck for picking at an open wound like that.
"Well, I would've asked her if someone hadn't interrupted me!" Ichigo snapped, giving in to the urge to harass Ishida a little now, "Look, I read last week's history lesson over the weekend. Don't take it out on me because your family lost a fight four hundred years ago!"
At the mention of the lesson, Ishida snapped to attention, his spine now ramrod straight. There was a cool glint in his eyes that told Ichigo that he'd plucked a nerve just then. Well, good - he'd been strumming on Ichigo's nerves for quite a few minutes this afternoon.
"That has nothing to do with this situation!" Ishida protested hotly, not even bothering to disguise his raw irritation, "This is about doing my duty as a Quincy and protecting an innocent human girl from your filthy kind!"
Ichigo could overlook the remark about 'his' kind; there was no point in expecting a demon hunter to like or respect demons. No, it was that Ishida seemed to think that Orihime needed protection from him as if he was some kind of wild animal. As if he'd ever done anything remotely untoward or hurtful to her. Ichigo's face burnt as he recalled that maybe he had been irrationally tempted to do strange things to her once or twice, but that wasn't the point here. The point was that he hadn't done those things, nor would he ever.
"I think that's Inoue's decision," Ichigo hissed, his temperature rising, "If she wants you to protect her from me, she can ask you to and I'll gladly back off. Until then, maybe you're the one who should back the hell off." Ishida's eyes flashed cold fury as he leaned forward to respond.
"Ishida-san."
The voice coming from the doorway was soft and feminine, and completely unfamiliar to Ichigo. He couldn't help but think that it had a strange, unsettling quality to it, too, almost a hypnotizing monotone. He saw Ishida look over his shoulder, past him and towards the door of the locker room. Turning to follow his line of sight, he saw the girl who'd called to his unwanted companion.
She was fairly tall; that was the first thing Ichigo noticed. Her heart-shaped face was complimented by her straight bangs, a sprig of inky black hair escaping her long braid and framing her round cheeks on either side. Her entire bearing bespoke her docile, humble nature; it was so evident that it was almost like she was wearing it as a garment. In fact, the only thing that Ichigo thought kept this girl from being a completely traditional Japanese beauty were her startling green eyes, and even those were heavily-lidded in a demure fashion.
"Nemu-san?" Ishida replied, shedding his aggressive stance instantly as he addressed her, "What is it?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow at this girl's affect on the archer in front of him. He'd never even heard him address anyone familiarly, yet he was on a first name basis with this girl? And he had the nerve to lecture him about Orihime?
"Player," he snorted quietly, not bothering to hide the slight amusement in his tone. Ishida cast him a chilly glare.
"I require your assistance with our pre-calculus assignment," the girl referred to as Nemu said in her strange, rhythmic monotone, "I am having difficultly with the logarithm in problem ten." Ichigo realized this was really the first time he'd ever heard this girl speak an entire sentence. She was usually preternaturally quiet in class; he had only ever heard her speak when called upon by the teachers, and even then it was so quiet he could barely register her answers. But now that he'd heard her, her speech seemed... stilted somehow. Unnatural. And yet, it was still pleasant enough to listen to. Ichigo cocked his head to the side curiously and watched as Ishida gave her his full attention.
"I'll be back to class in a moment, Nemu-san," Ishida said gently, "Please go ahead without me." The girl gave him a nod and a small bow before letting the locker room door swing shut behind her. As her calming presence slid out of the locker room, Ishida gave Ichigo one more look over his shoulder before moving to follow her.
"This isn't over between us," he said in a low voice, "Just keep in mind what I said, Kurosaki." And with that, he disappeared from the locker room, leaving Ichigo to stew from his insults as well as wonder at the odd scene between him and that Nemu girl.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Ichigo grabbed a shoe from a nearby unlocked locker and flung it full-force into the door Ishida had just gone through.
_________________________________________________________
As the seconds drug by and the hands of the clock approached the three o'clock position with glacial slowness, Orihime rested her cheek upon her hand and sighed. She briefly wondered if the entire classroom had fallen into a time warp for the day, time had been passing so slowly.
It wasn't just that time was slowing down around her; it was that her mind was full of thoughts and her tummy was full of butterflies, the bad kind. The kind that took up residence in the pit of her stomach and splashed the digestive fluid in there around, making her stomach ache with nerves. They'd been so bad that she hadn't been able to eat much at lunch, either. So now she was a strange combination of hungry and not hungry; clearly, the butterflies had played around in her stomach to the point that it was now full of gurgling stomach acid. Stupid butterflies.
Worse yet, every time she looked at Ichigo (or rather, the back of Ichigo's head, since he sat a few seats in front of her), that gnawing ache would hit again and her stomach would flip-flop. She'd hear Yamamoto's words again in her head and it would become just that much more painful.
Poisonous. Inherently attractive. Dangerous. How could she be selfish enough to even want Ichigo to look at her after that. And he had looked at her, she knew; she could tell he was worried, but she couldn't bring herself to talk to him or even look him right in the eye for too long. Every time she even thought about it, her stomach and her heart would ache again and she'd quickly retreat. She vaguely wondered if maybe there was now a crack in her heart - did doctors fix things like that?
The 'kin kon' of the school bell jolted Orihime out of her curiosity about whether she could get her cracked and broken heart replaced with a newer, stronger cybernetic model. As she looked up, she realized class had finally ended for the day and her classmates were gathering their things and steadily filing out.
It was then that it struck her; Chad wouldn't be walking her home today. Even if it was safe for him to be around her, and for all she knew it wasn't, both he and Ichigo were going with Rukia to their new House. The white-haired boy - she thought Rangiku had called him 'Captain' - was going to be their new boss. Part of her, a very large part actually, wanted to go with them and see them off. But the other part of her knew that she didn't belong there, among their kind, in their new lives. But then, where did she belong now?
"Orihime?" Tatsuki asked gently, placing her hand on the back of the auburn-haired girl's chair. Her honey-colored eyes flickered up to her friend's gunmetal grey ones, noting the concern reflected back at her. Immediately, she plastered the biggest fake smile she could muster onto her face and favored Tatsuki with it.
"Tatsuki-chan!" she chirped somewhat unsteadily in reply, "I was just about to pack up and go home!" She didn't want her friend to worry too much; she had already figured out she was distressed this morning, and probably realized it was over Ichigo. If there was one thing she didn't want to do at this point, it was to cause Tatsuki to pummel him.
"Need someone to walk you home?" Tatsuki asked gently. Orihime almost answered her affirmatively, but then stopped short, her mouth hanging open oddly. Could she be selfish enough to ask Tatsuki to walk her home when she herself was a walking target for any badly behaved demons in the area? She knew Tatsuki could defend herself against human boys twice her size, but against something that had powers and a super-durable body? Orihime's eyes faltered for a second as she realized that she couldn't even be around Tatsuki as much as she'd like now.
And then the smile was firmly back in place as Orihime banished that flicker of sadness to the back of her mind.
"No, that's okay! I have too many errands to run, and I know you have stuff to do," she said, hoping she imagined the undertone of sadness she thought she'd accidentally left in her words. Tatsuki looked concerned, but didn't press the point, so Orihime considered it good enough for now.
Several minutes later, after gathering her things and dodging Chizuru and Keigo's attentions, Orihime found herself outside in the courtyard of the school. As she trundled down the chipped concrete path, she noticed a small gathering near the school gates getting ready to depart. Yes, there was the tall, silent brunette she'd grown accustomed to following her everywhere, and the short black-haired girl that she'd only recently spoken to. And tripping up as though he was late, the red-haired boy that, up until Friday night, she had dreamed of being lucky enough to share her life with. Orihime thought that pesky crack in her heart was hurting again; maybe a piece had even chipped off just then.
She didn't know why she did it. But as they turned to go past the gates, she put one foot in front of the other and went in the same direction she had just watched them go.
________________________________________________________________________
"So this is it, huh?" Ichigo asked, his hands folded behind his head as he looked up past the black wrought iron gate and brick fence to the Victorian mansion set behind a copse of trees. The house itself looked incredibly out of place in the surrounding Japanese neighborhood, and Ichigo wondered exactly how long it had been there. Weren't those sorts of things popular a century ago when the country was still Westernizing?
"Yes," Rukia replied, punching an identification number into a keypad set against the brick of the wall holding the iron gate, "They are expecting us. Once we are inside, Amon-sama will introduce you properly to your Housemates."
Ichigo vaguely wondered what a house full of Wraiths would be like. An old Victorian mansion wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting. Maybe something more industrial? A dojo? He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this wasn't it.
As the gates swung open with a creak belying their age, the trio started up the walkway to the front of the manse. The yard was carefully manicured, but it seemed very barren to Ichigo, sterile almost. Sure, there was grass and trees, tall cypress and a few oak, but there was nothing aesthetic about it. A few privet bushes surrounded the house, but if there were flowers or landscaping of any kind, it was too early in the year for Ichigo to be able to tell. Maybe there was more to the lawn behind the house, but he doubted it.
"Not exactly big on looks, are they?" Ichigo asked nonchalantly, trying to at least get Rukia to talk to him. Things had naturally been awkward for the both of them since they left school, leaving Chad to look on in passive dismay. If he was going to be stuck with her, the least he could do was try to get on good terms with her.
"There is no need for such frivolities with the Wraiths," Rukia said evenly, "They are not like the Superbia, for whom appearance is a matter of pride." Ichigo raised an eyebrow; the matter-of-fact way she said it wasn't condescending, at least. It was simply a statement, in much the same way as one would comment on the color of the sky or the weather.
"Ehh, who cares what others think," Ichigo mused, folding his arms behind his head again, schoolbag dangling down his back, "I guess they're not here to look pretty, huh?" They were approaching the front porch of the house now and Ichigo couldn't help feeling a bit excited. Would this be like the first day of school all over again?
His curiosity was soon quelled when they rang the doorbell. After a few moments, a petite black-haired girl with her hair pulled into a cloth-covered bun swung one of the large, wooden double-doors inward.
"Oh!" she said softly, glittering brown eyes widening, "You must be the new recruits! Hitsugaya-kun is waiting for you!" Rukia's eyebrows arched at the familiar form of address as the girl stepped aside to lead them into the high-ceilinged foyer, but she said nothing.
As they stepped past the door, though, they could see the girl just a bit better. Her outfit, while as black as her hair, was much more playful than had been apparent at first. Her top was a black silk kimono accented with slightly darker butterflies, the sleeves dangling down to her hips. The collar beneath was plain, silky white to contrast, as was her simply tied obi. The skirt of her outfit, however, was entirely western. It ruffled and swished as she walked, coming just short of her knees, a row of white lace and frill shyly peeking out beneath the black overskirt. Beneath that were black kneesocks with white lace and ribbons, ending in a pair of shiny black Mary Janes. And on top of all of this, she wore a black lace choker; if Ichigo had to guess, he'd say that was her inhibitor.
Ichigo idly thought the girl looked like she'd just come back from a day trip to Harujuku.
"Please come right this way," she said with a big smile and a small bow, "I'm Hinamori Momo, one of the officers here. It's nice to meet you!" Ichigo and Chad both responded with bows of their own.
"Kurosaki Ichigo."
"Sado Yasutora."
"Please follow me, Kurosaki-kun, Sado-kun!" Momo favored them with a bright smile before turning with a swish of her skirts to face a large staircase. As Ichigo watched her go, he realized this was the first time he'd really noticed the interior of the house. It was as old fashioned as the outside, all dark, polished hardwood flooring and Persian rugs and fainting couches. A large grandfather clock sat ticking away in a corner; a large, black grand piano was situated in another. The tall cathedral ceiling of the foyer was hung with an elaborate crystal chandelier; as they walked towards the staircase, Ichigo noticed the small pools of light it reflected onto the floors.
Up the curling staircase and down another richly decorated hall they went, Momo leading the way. Her heavy shoes made firm noises against the blue and gold runner that had been rolled down the hallway. Finally, she came to a stop before a heavy wooden door. Unlike the ones in the Kuchiki manor, Ichigo noticed that this one was almost nondescript in comparison.
The cheerful girl dropped a knock on the thick door and leaned towards it, cupping a hand around her mouth.
"Hitsugaya-kun!" she called cheerfully, "Your new recruits are here!"
Almost as soon as the words had left her mouth, the door swung inward to reveal the irritated boy Ichigo had seen Friday night. Looking past him, he could see a dimly lit study that looked just a bit too old fashioned for a kid like him. All the way across the room he could even see a large wooden desk strewn with papers that looked about two times too big for the kid. As for Hitsugaya himself, he was dressed almost exclusively in black. If Ichigo had to guess, he'd say he was wearing a junior high gakuran. Did heads of house have to go to school, too?
"Hinamori," the white-haired youth grumbled, scratching the back of his head in aggravation, "It's Hitsugaya-taichou now." For some reason, it sounded like this was the hundredth time he'd reminded her.
"Sorry," she replied, blushing a bit, "I guess I'm still not used to it." His only response was a long suffering sigh.
"Just keep it in mind." Then, turning to address the new recruits, "Kurosaki, Sado, Kuchiki. Thanks for coming. We can go downstairs now, if you're ready."
Before anyone could move, however, the noise of high heels clicking rapidly against the floor came barreling towards the group. As they turned as one to investigate the source of the noise, Ichigo's jaw dropped.
"Captaaaaaaaaaaaaain~!"
It was the blonde from Friday night, Matsumoto. She was wearing a similar dress to the other night, black velvet, clingy and floor-length. And of course, there was the same deep gash that reached almost to her navel revealing her generous bust and the silver chain nestled deep in the middle of it. Fluttering behind her was the pink stole Ichigo had seen last week, as well.
It wasn't what Matsumoto was wearing, however, that concerned him. No, that would've been what she was dragging along behind her.
"I-Inoue?!" he sputtered, fairly sure his cheeks were on fire, "Why are you here?" The poor girl looked like she might die of embarrassment as Matsumoto drug her to a halt and then proceeded to wrap her long, thin arms around her shoulders to give her a squeeze.
"I... I don't know, I was going home and I guess I started following behind you and before I knew it I was here and I-I'm really sorry, Kurosaki-kun, I'll just go and--" Before she could babble any more, though, Matsumoto cut her off.
"Don't be silly!" the older woman said, a look of glee on her blue-eyed face, "I invited you Friday, remember?" She then turned to the head of house with her same winning smile.
"Captain! Can I keep her?"
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.
________________________________________________________
The weekend passed without incident.
Saturday morning, Ichigo slipped out of his house before his sisters or father could question him and made his way to Urahara's shop. The older demon was, of course, curious as to how everything had turned out, and Ichigo found that after spending a week with him, he felt as though he did owe him an explanation of his current situation.
"So that's it, huh?" he said thoughtfully, after Ichigo had told him the whole story, "You're going to actually be a noble now, in a house of your own. With a friend, even! Saa, I guess you don't need this old man anymore, hmm?" Something about his tone told Ichigo that he wasn't exactly serious, but he felt he should comment on it nonetheless.
"That's not true," he protested evenly, "Besides, I'd rather learn from you than that belligerent midget." His arms crossed with a huff.
"Ora ora," Urahara replied, waving his paper fan lazily in front of himself, "Give Kuchiki-san the benefit of the doubt, Kurosaki-san. I doubt she's as bad as you seem to think she is. Besides, a mentor relationship can be very important." Ichigo rolled his eyes; he wasn't in the mood for a speech on the value of community or whatever.
"I can get that from the people in my House," he grumbled, unmoved. Urahara leaned back on his hands, his countenance also seemingly unimpressed.
"It's not quite the same," the older demon returned, "Besides, the Kuchiki name is a good one. I'm not exactly someone you can just go around sharing your association with to all and sundry, you know." Ichigo raised an eyebrow at this admission.
"What does that mean?" he asked, incredulous, "You did some bad deals or something? Owe someone money?" Urahara chuckled behind his fan.
"No, no, nothing of the sort," he waved the fan dismissively, "I'm just not on the best of terms with the noble houses. Let's leave it at that." Ichigo decided that answers on the topic weren't going to be forthcoming and decided to let it drop for the day.
"Whatever," Ichigo dismissed the topic with the barest hint of frustration, "I gotta get home now. I'm probably going to catch hell from my Dad over this as it is." He scratched the back of his head, sighing. Even though Urahara had said he'd taken care of the situation, he wasn't looking forward to facing his father in the least.
"Ah, I did have a question for you about last night," Urahara interrupted as Ichigo got to his feet from the cushion on which he'd been sitting. An expression of neutral curiosity replaced Ichigo's normal scowl.
"What is it?" His tone was even now, no longer irritated or short-tempered.
"You said the girl's name was Inoue, correct?" Ichigo's expression immediately turned flat and somewhat distant. Great, another weirdo interested in Orihime. He was going to have to speak to her about talking to strange people; they certainly didn't get much stranger than Urahara Kisuke in Ichigo's book.
"Yeah, that's her name," Ichigo huffed, "Don't tell me you want something to do with her now, too." Urahara dismissed him with a broad smile and a wave of his fan.
"No, no," he said lightly, "It's just a name I heard around here a few years ago! I believe I once had an Inoue as one of my customers, actually. Why don't you bring her by sometime?" Ichigo continued to look thoroughly nonplussed at this suggestion.
"I'll see what I can do," he said in a flat tone, "But you'd better not try anything weird on her."
"So cold, Kurosaki-san!" Urahara mock-whined, "I promise I'll be on my best behavior!"
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Oddly enough, Isshin didn't actually say anything to Ichigo about his week-long disappearance. Whatever Urahara told him must have been effective, because it was like he hadn't even been gone a day. He treated him with the same goofy attitude, the same whacked out attacks, and the same annoying volume as ever. Yuzu followed suit, but Ichigo couldn't help but notice that Karin looked like she wasn't buying any of this.
Nothing was said, though. Sunday passed like any other Sunday with the exception of Ichigo scrambling to complete a pile of schoolwork that had accumulated for him over his absence. Presumably, Chad had dropped it off after walking Orihime home from school each day.
And so it was that Monday morning, he trudged bleary-eyed back to his classroom, this time with his inhibitor firmly in place around his wrist.
The first thing that Ichigo noticed upon opening the door to the classroom was that his friends - Chad, Keigo, Mizuiro, Tatsuki, and their group - were engaged in their normal conversation. This morning, however, he noticed a small, black head bobbing through their midst. His molars ground together silently as he realized exactly who was now taking up space among his classmates.
"Good morning, Kurosaki-kun!" Rukia chirped with a small wave.
"Ichigo, you already know her?" Keigo asked, his voice just an octave below a whine, "First Orihime-chan, now this?! You're so cruel! Player!"
And that was when Ichigo noticed it.
The aforementioned redhead hadn't acknowledged him since he'd entered the room, instead talking in hushed tones with Tatsuki. As his eyes lighted on her, he noticed that Orihime's expression was subdued and meek, as though she was tired or sick. It might have been his imagination, but he also thought she looked a bit paler than usual, too.
Before he could say anything, though, her honey-colored eyes flickered up briefly to catch his. He realized too late that he was staring open-mouthed at her, no longer even attempting to hide his curiosity. Just as quickly as her eyes had met his, though, they flicked back towards the floor, heavy-lidded. He watched her lashes veil her downcast eyes as she said something quietly to Tatsuki and moved quickly to her seat.
Tatsuki cast Ichigo a look that he couldn't quite make out - was it concern or pity? - as he looked at her awkwardly and somewhat helplessly. At least she wasn't angry or threatening him, but what about Orihime? She didn't look mad, but she certainly didn't look thrilled to see him, either. That realization lanced him, a small pinch of pain rising unbidden in his chest. Was it possible she blamed him for Friday night? Would Orihime even do something like that?
The world started moving again as Ichigo registered Keigo's continued wailing. He cast the sandy-haired boy a stern look, which did nothing to curtail his temper-tantrum.
"Did you have a fight with Orihime-chan, Ichigo?" the thinner boy asked, causing Ichigo's eye to twitch, "You dumped her, didn't you? You're so cold-hearted! Don't worry, Orihime-chan, I'll comfort you in your time of n--" Luckily for all involved, Tatsuki cuffed him in the back of the head before he could do or say anything else humiliating.
"Settle down, Keigo," she ordered, causing Ichigo to give a relieved sigh as he plopped down in his seat by the window. As the bell rang, he glanced into the glass to see if he could catch a glimpse of Orihime a few seats back from him. She seemed to be worrying her bottom lip, eyes lidded as she fidgeted with her small hands. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, maybe even apologize for all the trouble he'd caused her.
The morning passed at a crawl. Ichigo found himself paying less attention to the lessons in front of him than to the window beside his head and the girl reflected in it. More than once that morning, Ochi-sensei had beaned him with a piece of chalk and sarcastically apologized that her class wasn't as interesting as the pigeons outside.
The only thing that broke the monotony was when Ichigo would feel a sharp gaze land on him from time to time. The one time he looked up to see who was giving him the evil eye, his gaze collided with narrowed, cobalt blue eyes. He snorted derisively in Ishida's direction before turning back to the far more interesting window, knowing he wouldn't dare start anything in the middle of class. Let him keep giving him nasty looks; right now, he had more important things on his mind.
So when the lunch bell finally rang, Ichigo began moving instinctively towards Orihime's desk. She was distracted with packing up for lunch, but when her eyes caught his at last, he registered the fret that consumed her face as she quickly looked down to her desk. This was driving him mad, but he figured that as soon as he could talk to her and find out what was wrong, he could finally relax.
He never made it quite that far, though. A thin, firm hand grabbed his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Ichigo suppressed the urge to growl at the intrusion, but when he turned to see who was invading his personal space this time, he was surprised to see someone other than Rukia.
"Can I have a word with you, Kurosaki?" Ishida asked, his voice as cold as bare steel. While under normal circumstances Ichigo would've gladly went a couple rounds with the bespectacled archer on the roof of the school, today was not exactly a day that he felt like humoring his classmate's aggression.
"Piss off, Ishida," he said dismissively, swatting the hand at his shoulder away, "I've got more important things to take care of." But as he turned back to call to Orihime, his eyes landed on her empty desk. She'd already taken her things and went to sit with the girls in a different part of the classroom. Ichigo felt like hitting something. Well, maybe Ishida would be useful after all.
"Dammit all," he huffed, turning back to the black haired boy behind him, "Fine, what do you want?"
The next few minutes found Ichigo confronting Ishida in the empty locker room just a few doors down from their homeroom. There was almost an electric current between the two boys, a palpable chill in the air as they faced each other down. It occurred to Ichigo that it was probably because they were natural-born enemies. A demon and a demon hunter, there couldn't be a worse match anywhere.
"What do you want?" Ichigo repeated impatiently, "I'm missing lunch for this, you know." It wasn't that he was particularly hungry; it was just that hanging out with Ishida wasn't his idea of an ideal lunch break.
"I don't know how you managed to get away from those constables," Ishida said sternly, crossing his arms across his chest, "But don't think I've forgotten. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from Inoue-san." Ichigo could've sworn he felt the fuse ignite in the back of his head.
"I 'got away' because they finally figured out that I never did anything to her!" Ichigo almost roared, maintaining just enough self-control to keep from shouting, "Where do you get off being so familiar with her, any damn way? What do you even know about her?" At this point, his fist was curled around Ishida's school tie, nearly lifting him off his feet. The black-haired boy's stony gaze didn't waver, though.
"More than you do, I'd wager," he said coldly, "I've known her for months through the Handicraft's Club. Which is more than I can say for someone who seemed to barely register she existed until a week and a half ago." Ichigo dropped Ishida's tie, perhaps stung a bit by the biting accusation. He hadn't just noticed her; he'd known Orihime for years, hadn't he? Ever since she'd brought her dying brother to his father's clinic three years ago, if he was to be perfectly honest with himself. And she was best friends with Tatsuki, whom he'd known since they were both children. So it wasn't like she was a complete stranger; he just couldn't think of anything to say to her all that often.
"You don't know that," Ichigo said, his voice nearly a growl, "I can't say we've always been close, but I've always known she's there." There was a snappish quality to his words, almost like a wounded animal.
"And that's why she's avoiding you today?" Ishida asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a 'clink'. Ichigo fought down the urge to wring his skinny neck for picking at an open wound like that.
"Well, I would've asked her if someone hadn't interrupted me!" Ichigo snapped, giving in to the urge to harass Ishida a little now, "Look, I read last week's history lesson over the weekend. Don't take it out on me because your family lost a fight four hundred years ago!"
At the mention of the lesson, Ishida snapped to attention, his spine now ramrod straight. There was a cool glint in his eyes that told Ichigo that he'd plucked a nerve just then. Well, good - he'd been strumming on Ichigo's nerves for quite a few minutes this afternoon.
"That has nothing to do with this situation!" Ishida protested hotly, not even bothering to disguise his raw irritation, "This is about doing my duty as a Quincy and protecting an innocent human girl from your filthy kind!"
Ichigo could overlook the remark about 'his' kind; there was no point in expecting a demon hunter to like or respect demons. No, it was that Ishida seemed to think that Orihime needed protection from him as if he was some kind of wild animal. As if he'd ever done anything remotely untoward or hurtful to her. Ichigo's face burnt as he recalled that maybe he had been irrationally tempted to do strange things to her once or twice, but that wasn't the point here. The point was that he hadn't done those things, nor would he ever.
"I think that's Inoue's decision," Ichigo hissed, his temperature rising, "If she wants you to protect her from me, she can ask you to and I'll gladly back off. Until then, maybe you're the one who should back the hell off." Ishida's eyes flashed cold fury as he leaned forward to respond.
"Ishida-san."
The voice coming from the doorway was soft and feminine, and completely unfamiliar to Ichigo. He couldn't help but think that it had a strange, unsettling quality to it, too, almost a hypnotizing monotone. He saw Ishida look over his shoulder, past him and towards the door of the locker room. Turning to follow his line of sight, he saw the girl who'd called to his unwanted companion.
She was fairly tall; that was the first thing Ichigo noticed. Her heart-shaped face was complimented by her straight bangs, a sprig of inky black hair escaping her long braid and framing her round cheeks on either side. Her entire bearing bespoke her docile, humble nature; it was so evident that it was almost like she was wearing it as a garment. In fact, the only thing that Ichigo thought kept this girl from being a completely traditional Japanese beauty were her startling green eyes, and even those were heavily-lidded in a demure fashion.
"Nemu-san?" Ishida replied, shedding his aggressive stance instantly as he addressed her, "What is it?" Ichigo raised an eyebrow at this girl's affect on the archer in front of him. He'd never even heard him address anyone familiarly, yet he was on a first name basis with this girl? And he had the nerve to lecture him about Orihime?
"Player," he snorted quietly, not bothering to hide the slight amusement in his tone. Ishida cast him a chilly glare.
"I require your assistance with our pre-calculus assignment," the girl referred to as Nemu said in her strange, rhythmic monotone, "I am having difficultly with the logarithm in problem ten." Ichigo realized this was really the first time he'd ever heard this girl speak an entire sentence. She was usually preternaturally quiet in class; he had only ever heard her speak when called upon by the teachers, and even then it was so quiet he could barely register her answers. But now that he'd heard her, her speech seemed... stilted somehow. Unnatural. And yet, it was still pleasant enough to listen to. Ichigo cocked his head to the side curiously and watched as Ishida gave her his full attention.
"I'll be back to class in a moment, Nemu-san," Ishida said gently, "Please go ahead without me." The girl gave him a nod and a small bow before letting the locker room door swing shut behind her. As her calming presence slid out of the locker room, Ishida gave Ichigo one more look over his shoulder before moving to follow her.
"This isn't over between us," he said in a low voice, "Just keep in mind what I said, Kurosaki." And with that, he disappeared from the locker room, leaving Ichigo to stew from his insults as well as wonder at the odd scene between him and that Nemu girl.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Ichigo grabbed a shoe from a nearby unlocked locker and flung it full-force into the door Ishida had just gone through.
_________________________________________________________
As the seconds drug by and the hands of the clock approached the three o'clock position with glacial slowness, Orihime rested her cheek upon her hand and sighed. She briefly wondered if the entire classroom had fallen into a time warp for the day, time had been passing so slowly.
It wasn't just that time was slowing down around her; it was that her mind was full of thoughts and her tummy was full of butterflies, the bad kind. The kind that took up residence in the pit of her stomach and splashed the digestive fluid in there around, making her stomach ache with nerves. They'd been so bad that she hadn't been able to eat much at lunch, either. So now she was a strange combination of hungry and not hungry; clearly, the butterflies had played around in her stomach to the point that it was now full of gurgling stomach acid. Stupid butterflies.
Worse yet, every time she looked at Ichigo (or rather, the back of Ichigo's head, since he sat a few seats in front of her), that gnawing ache would hit again and her stomach would flip-flop. She'd hear Yamamoto's words again in her head and it would become just that much more painful.
Poisonous. Inherently attractive. Dangerous. How could she be selfish enough to even want Ichigo to look at her after that. And he had looked at her, she knew; she could tell he was worried, but she couldn't bring herself to talk to him or even look him right in the eye for too long. Every time she even thought about it, her stomach and her heart would ache again and she'd quickly retreat. She vaguely wondered if maybe there was now a crack in her heart - did doctors fix things like that?
The 'kin kon' of the school bell jolted Orihime out of her curiosity about whether she could get her cracked and broken heart replaced with a newer, stronger cybernetic model. As she looked up, she realized class had finally ended for the day and her classmates were gathering their things and steadily filing out.
It was then that it struck her; Chad wouldn't be walking her home today. Even if it was safe for him to be around her, and for all she knew it wasn't, both he and Ichigo were going with Rukia to their new House. The white-haired boy - she thought Rangiku had called him 'Captain' - was going to be their new boss. Part of her, a very large part actually, wanted to go with them and see them off. But the other part of her knew that she didn't belong there, among their kind, in their new lives. But then, where did she belong now?
"Orihime?" Tatsuki asked gently, placing her hand on the back of the auburn-haired girl's chair. Her honey-colored eyes flickered up to her friend's gunmetal grey ones, noting the concern reflected back at her. Immediately, she plastered the biggest fake smile she could muster onto her face and favored Tatsuki with it.
"Tatsuki-chan!" she chirped somewhat unsteadily in reply, "I was just about to pack up and go home!" She didn't want her friend to worry too much; she had already figured out she was distressed this morning, and probably realized it was over Ichigo. If there was one thing she didn't want to do at this point, it was to cause Tatsuki to pummel him.
"Need someone to walk you home?" Tatsuki asked gently. Orihime almost answered her affirmatively, but then stopped short, her mouth hanging open oddly. Could she be selfish enough to ask Tatsuki to walk her home when she herself was a walking target for any badly behaved demons in the area? She knew Tatsuki could defend herself against human boys twice her size, but against something that had powers and a super-durable body? Orihime's eyes faltered for a second as she realized that she couldn't even be around Tatsuki as much as she'd like now.
And then the smile was firmly back in place as Orihime banished that flicker of sadness to the back of her mind.
"No, that's okay! I have too many errands to run, and I know you have stuff to do," she said, hoping she imagined the undertone of sadness she thought she'd accidentally left in her words. Tatsuki looked concerned, but didn't press the point, so Orihime considered it good enough for now.
Several minutes later, after gathering her things and dodging Chizuru and Keigo's attentions, Orihime found herself outside in the courtyard of the school. As she trundled down the chipped concrete path, she noticed a small gathering near the school gates getting ready to depart. Yes, there was the tall, silent brunette she'd grown accustomed to following her everywhere, and the short black-haired girl that she'd only recently spoken to. And tripping up as though he was late, the red-haired boy that, up until Friday night, she had dreamed of being lucky enough to share her life with. Orihime thought that pesky crack in her heart was hurting again; maybe a piece had even chipped off just then.
She didn't know why she did it. But as they turned to go past the gates, she put one foot in front of the other and went in the same direction she had just watched them go.
________________________________________________________________________
"So this is it, huh?" Ichigo asked, his hands folded behind his head as he looked up past the black wrought iron gate and brick fence to the Victorian mansion set behind a copse of trees. The house itself looked incredibly out of place in the surrounding Japanese neighborhood, and Ichigo wondered exactly how long it had been there. Weren't those sorts of things popular a century ago when the country was still Westernizing?
"Yes," Rukia replied, punching an identification number into a keypad set against the brick of the wall holding the iron gate, "They are expecting us. Once we are inside, Amon-sama will introduce you properly to your Housemates."
Ichigo vaguely wondered what a house full of Wraiths would be like. An old Victorian mansion wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting. Maybe something more industrial? A dojo? He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this wasn't it.
As the gates swung open with a creak belying their age, the trio started up the walkway to the front of the manse. The yard was carefully manicured, but it seemed very barren to Ichigo, sterile almost. Sure, there was grass and trees, tall cypress and a few oak, but there was nothing aesthetic about it. A few privet bushes surrounded the house, but if there were flowers or landscaping of any kind, it was too early in the year for Ichigo to be able to tell. Maybe there was more to the lawn behind the house, but he doubted it.
"Not exactly big on looks, are they?" Ichigo asked nonchalantly, trying to at least get Rukia to talk to him. Things had naturally been awkward for the both of them since they left school, leaving Chad to look on in passive dismay. If he was going to be stuck with her, the least he could do was try to get on good terms with her.
"There is no need for such frivolities with the Wraiths," Rukia said evenly, "They are not like the Superbia, for whom appearance is a matter of pride." Ichigo raised an eyebrow; the matter-of-fact way she said it wasn't condescending, at least. It was simply a statement, in much the same way as one would comment on the color of the sky or the weather.
"Ehh, who cares what others think," Ichigo mused, folding his arms behind his head again, schoolbag dangling down his back, "I guess they're not here to look pretty, huh?" They were approaching the front porch of the house now and Ichigo couldn't help feeling a bit excited. Would this be like the first day of school all over again?
His curiosity was soon quelled when they rang the doorbell. After a few moments, a petite black-haired girl with her hair pulled into a cloth-covered bun swung one of the large, wooden double-doors inward.
"Oh!" she said softly, glittering brown eyes widening, "You must be the new recruits! Hitsugaya-kun is waiting for you!" Rukia's eyebrows arched at the familiar form of address as the girl stepped aside to lead them into the high-ceilinged foyer, but she said nothing.
As they stepped past the door, though, they could see the girl just a bit better. Her outfit, while as black as her hair, was much more playful than had been apparent at first. Her top was a black silk kimono accented with slightly darker butterflies, the sleeves dangling down to her hips. The collar beneath was plain, silky white to contrast, as was her simply tied obi. The skirt of her outfit, however, was entirely western. It ruffled and swished as she walked, coming just short of her knees, a row of white lace and frill shyly peeking out beneath the black overskirt. Beneath that were black kneesocks with white lace and ribbons, ending in a pair of shiny black Mary Janes. And on top of all of this, she wore a black lace choker; if Ichigo had to guess, he'd say that was her inhibitor.
Ichigo idly thought the girl looked like she'd just come back from a day trip to Harujuku.
"Please come right this way," she said with a big smile and a small bow, "I'm Hinamori Momo, one of the officers here. It's nice to meet you!" Ichigo and Chad both responded with bows of their own.
"Kurosaki Ichigo."
"Sado Yasutora."
"Please follow me, Kurosaki-kun, Sado-kun!" Momo favored them with a bright smile before turning with a swish of her skirts to face a large staircase. As Ichigo watched her go, he realized this was the first time he'd really noticed the interior of the house. It was as old fashioned as the outside, all dark, polished hardwood flooring and Persian rugs and fainting couches. A large grandfather clock sat ticking away in a corner; a large, black grand piano was situated in another. The tall cathedral ceiling of the foyer was hung with an elaborate crystal chandelier; as they walked towards the staircase, Ichigo noticed the small pools of light it reflected onto the floors.
Up the curling staircase and down another richly decorated hall they went, Momo leading the way. Her heavy shoes made firm noises against the blue and gold runner that had been rolled down the hallway. Finally, she came to a stop before a heavy wooden door. Unlike the ones in the Kuchiki manor, Ichigo noticed that this one was almost nondescript in comparison.
The cheerful girl dropped a knock on the thick door and leaned towards it, cupping a hand around her mouth.
"Hitsugaya-kun!" she called cheerfully, "Your new recruits are here!"
Almost as soon as the words had left her mouth, the door swung inward to reveal the irritated boy Ichigo had seen Friday night. Looking past him, he could see a dimly lit study that looked just a bit too old fashioned for a kid like him. All the way across the room he could even see a large wooden desk strewn with papers that looked about two times too big for the kid. As for Hitsugaya himself, he was dressed almost exclusively in black. If Ichigo had to guess, he'd say he was wearing a junior high gakuran. Did heads of house have to go to school, too?
"Hinamori," the white-haired youth grumbled, scratching the back of his head in aggravation, "It's Hitsugaya-taichou now." For some reason, it sounded like this was the hundredth time he'd reminded her.
"Sorry," she replied, blushing a bit, "I guess I'm still not used to it." His only response was a long suffering sigh.
"Just keep it in mind." Then, turning to address the new recruits, "Kurosaki, Sado, Kuchiki. Thanks for coming. We can go downstairs now, if you're ready."
Before anyone could move, however, the noise of high heels clicking rapidly against the floor came barreling towards the group. As they turned as one to investigate the source of the noise, Ichigo's jaw dropped.
"Captaaaaaaaaaaaaain~!"
It was the blonde from Friday night, Matsumoto. She was wearing a similar dress to the other night, black velvet, clingy and floor-length. And of course, there was the same deep gash that reached almost to her navel revealing her generous bust and the silver chain nestled deep in the middle of it. Fluttering behind her was the pink stole Ichigo had seen last week, as well.
It wasn't what Matsumoto was wearing, however, that concerned him. No, that would've been what she was dragging along behind her.
"I-Inoue?!" he sputtered, fairly sure his cheeks were on fire, "Why are you here?" The poor girl looked like she might die of embarrassment as Matsumoto drug her to a halt and then proceeded to wrap her long, thin arms around her shoulders to give her a squeeze.
"I... I don't know, I was going home and I guess I started following behind you and before I knew it I was here and I-I'm really sorry, Kurosaki-kun, I'll just go and--" Before she could babble any more, though, Matsumoto cut her off.
"Don't be silly!" the older woman said, a look of glee on her blue-eyed face, "I invited you Friday, remember?" She then turned to the head of house with her same winning smile.
"Captain! Can I keep her?"
