Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Ishida's Second Choice ❯ Chapter 6

Ishida’s Second Choice

by debbiechan

Disclaimer: Bleach isn’t mine, and Kubo Tite’s story is better than this one; I’m only indulging in a little IshiHime fantasy.

Warning: Teenage sex and school truancy. Yes, we are returning to these major themes in the story. Even though this part take a swerve from canon, spoilers for Bleach chapters post 226 are contained herein. Also, WAFF, romance, yadda yadda young love.

Part Six

He couldn’t sense her.

Ishida stood in the middle of Orihime’s apartment and doubted his powers. Ever since his father’s arrow had struck him, his sensitivity to reiatsu had increased tenfold. How could she not be here?

He walked to the open window and reached out with all his intellect and heart, reached out with dumb, childish hope, and all that answered him was absence. The absence of his own purpose, the absence of Orihime.

Maybe his restored Quincy powers were unreliable?

While aiming arrows at his father during an intense work-out, Ishida had felt Orihime’s reiatsu dim. Ryuuken had caught the hesitancy in his son’s eyes and lectured about concentration. Enough, Ishida had insisted. His powers were back, and he didn’t need to put up with any more of Ryuuken’s abuse. It had then taken a whole day to persuade his father that there was crucial homework to be gathered, that the truant student needed a few hours--maybe a whole afternoon--to meet with a teacher and reschedule exams. There had been no Shinigami battles in the air at the time, and Ryuuken had suspected nothing.

Heart racing, Ishida had spirited across the sidewalks of Karakura. No, no, she wasn’t dead or injured--but he was aware of her having left. Leaving with a breeziness and willingness as if stepping out of a room. Yesterday? Two hours ago? When had she left his world?

Ishida had not stayed long at his own apartment, even though he had sensed a lingering remainder of her reiatsu there, and even though he had wanted (with the compulsive need of someone whose identity is enmeshed in clothing) to change what he was wearing. He still wore a pair of his despised father’s pants, which fit loosely, and a giant white undershirt. In this odd garb, feeling something like an imposter, he had run to Orihime’s apartment and into the room where he had once lain, naked and uninhibited, with the most tender presence he had ever known.

Now that presence was just gone.

Bewildered, Ishida sat down on the floor. Next to him was the tidily rolled-up futon where he had slept with Orihime.

No sense of struggle, pain, injury, or remorse. She had gone willingly.

He was overcome with a memory of her breath in his ear, a cascade of giggles, her fingers pressing the nape of his neck.

I made the wrong choice. I should have stayed here. She’s gone. She left. I can’t sense Kurosaki either, so maybe—

A portal breached wide.

Ishida lifted his head and heard a faraway voice going "weeeeee." The high-pitched voice sounded like the Orihime of his recent imagination. Then Ishida recognized the clammy scent of the dangai. Can it be? He heard laughter and "ow, ow, ow" just below the window.

Someone had fallen out of the skies and into the hedges.

"URYUU!" The voice was excited and girlish and definitely Orihime’s. "Uryuu? Are you in there, Uryuu?" The voice was coming up the stairs.

Ishida stood up and caught himself flattening his palms against the creases of his pants. Stupid pants. He straightened his belt. He heard her key working in the keyhole, but the door was open because Ishida had picked the lock with a spiritron needle.

The door flung open and Orihime fell into the room, skidding a couple steps across the floor.

"Uryuu?"

She was wearing her school uniform, the fall version with a v-neck sweater and a little crest on the chest.

"I--" Ishida had never imagined that this reunion would be awkward. A moment ago, he had been doubting her, wondering if she was somewhere with his rival Kurosaki. How could he have thought something like that? Here she was, breathless and beaming and being utterly herself. He should have been more concerned for her safety than about whose company she was keeping….

"You’re back!" She looked overjoyed to see him, even though she made no move towards him. "I--I wanted to tell you before I left, but you were training with your new powers, and I wasn’t sure that I could get past that spirit barrier where you were and even if I could--" She held up her palms and waggled them in excitement. "I didn’t think your father would be too happy to see me because he seemed so focused training you--"

"You know I have my powers back?" Why did this surprise him? Orihime’s ability to sense reiatsu had always been stellar. But to be able to sense him within the spirit glass barrier?

"I’m so happy for you." Orihime clasped her hands and, again, looked like she wanted to hug him but was hesitating for some reason. "I know how much getting your Quincy powers means to you."

"You were in Soul Society," Ishida said. It felt wrong to press her for information, but he wanted to know. I can’t sense Kurosaki, so where is he?

"I was training with Kuchiki-san!" Her hands began to waggle again. "Oh so much has happened! There was a terrible battle here in the Living World, and these horrible creatures that Urahara-san calls Arrancar caused so much trouble, and I messed up and misfired Tsubaki again, and he was really, really destroyed this time, and Urahara-san said that without him, I couldn’t fight, that I would just be a liability in the winter war--"

"Shh, shh." Uryuu held up his own hands. The gesture was meant to be reassuring but it somehow mirrored Orihime’s own spazzing. "Slow down. It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me everything all at once."

Orihime took a deep breath. "The important part is that Tsubaki came back. A very nice person named Hutch-san fixed my hairpin for me, and Tsubaki came back, as grouchy-faced as ever, and so I was able to train with Kuchiki-san. The plan is for me to stay in Soul Society on weekends and train with her after school. Her brother has the most gorgeous garden, and everyone in the thirteenth division is so kind. And Kuchiki-san! She is the best person. So graceful and strong and--well, you knew that already."

The look in Orihime’s eye puzzled Ishida completely.

"I mean… I’ve only been getting to know her recently, but Kurosaki-kun and you … you already had noticed how wonderful … how wonderful… she …" Orihime was blushing.

"What?"

Orihime put her hands to her cheeks. "I mean, when you made that perfect dress for her in Soul Society. I figured it out then--that you liked her. Well, you know what’s funny? I think that Kurosaki-kun cares for her very much now, and that’s good, because I don’t think of him the way I used to, especially since what happened between you and me." Orihime’s breath caught at the words you and me, and her eyes filled with tears. "Uryuu, I’m babbling again. I don’t know what to say or do."

Ishida did. He walked over, leaned forward and kissed her. It occurred to him while he was kissing her--deeply, with all the pride of a Quincy whose powers had been restored, and possessively, with all the fervor of a boy who had been missing a girl’s embrace--that he should tell her that he had never "liked" Kuchiki-san that way. But that could wait.

Her hands were gliding up his back when he broke the kiss.

"I told my father I would be gone for a few hours."

"He’s going to know where you are." Orihime’s breath was already hard and slowing. "I think he can sense you anywhere."

"I know." Ishida cupped her head with his hands. "But it doesn’t matter, because I’m not going back to train with him. I’m staying right here."

**

They both knew that the upcoming war was bigger than both of them, but Orihime’s apartment seemed to embody everything that they wanted to defend against Aizen and his Arrancar. The benign expression of a stuffed animal on a bookshelf. A small vase of dried flowers. A simple sink and the accessibility of running water from a faucet.

After Orihime poured herself a huge glass of tap water and drank it in one gulp, she announced that she was sweaty and sore after hours of shooting Tsubaki-kun at Kuchiki-san and that she needed a hot shower before proceeding with any sort of naked lovemaking.

Ishida knew that there were more important questions to be asked--such as, where was Kurosaki and why were Shinigami still in Karakura?--but he found himself fingering the bow at Orihime’s neck and asking her if she really trained in her school uniform.

"Why not?" Orihime looked up wide-eyed at Ishida. "Should I wear a karate gi like when Tatsuki was teaching me? Maybe you can make me a training outfit. Oh, clothes are such a bother--" She pulled off her school sweater in one motion and began on her blouse buttons. "I know what! You can take a shower with me! That way you don’t have to wait for me until I come out!"

The proposal erased all thoughts of the war and Kurosaki from Ishida’s mind.

Orihime dropped her skirt and underwear with casual grace and skipped to the bathroom to turn on the shower faucet. Ishida followed her without hesitation, stripping himself of his borrowed clothes as he went.

It felt right as rain to stand with her under the pouring water. It was a new, vivid experience, but it also felt like he had done it a million times before. He waited, with all the restraint of his sixteen years, until she had shampooed and rinsed her hair before touching her. Then his fingers clenched her shoulders, his mouth was on her breast, and he was suckling soapy water. The shower pounded, making a sound like a thousand hands clapping, like an audience going wild with applause, and the noise roared in his ears and filled him with a familiar exhilaration. He slid one hand between her legs and fondled her until her moans were louder than the rushing water.

As she began to jerk against him, he held her still so she wouldn’t slip or crash against the tile.

They staggered from the shower stall, and he toweled her hair. She absently palmed his erection with her still-soapy hand. Somehow the futon unrolled itself, and their bodies were drenching it--his hair dripping large spots on the fabric and hers spread in dark tendrils against a pillow.

No urgency. No awkwardness. It was as if no time had passed since they last lay here together. He lifted her thighs to his shoulders and could taste her through the hard mineral traces of shower water and some fruit-smelling silkiness of moisturizing soap. Her fluids were warm and salty and real.

She came in his mouth, and then she came again under his hand.

As she fell into limp exhaustion in his arms, he considered finishing himself. He considered getting up to look for the condoms (the package had to be where he had put them away in her desk), and he considered staying pressed against her moist warmth forever or until he died from mad, engorged love for her.

Then she stirred, and he noticed that she was alert, clear-eyed--and staring at the scar in shape of a Quincy star on his chest.

"He had to shoot me." Ishida didn’t really want to talk about this now. "It was the only way I could get my powers back."

She touched it.

Ishida trembled, as if the scar tissue was the tip of his need for her. His eyes smarted with tears.

"I know," she whispered. "Your heart is different."

And in the moments that followed, he knew exactly how much more she had changed his heart than that Quincy arrow. He had his powers back and he had her back--did he deserve either of these things? Her hands shook the pillowcase and three foil squares fell out (how clever of her, he noted in this exalted state of romantic lust), and when she dressed his erection with one of the slippery things and climbed on top of him, he knew his life was over. Goodbye, old life. Goodbye ever doubting that justice and God existed. Orihime existed, and she was welcoming him between her legs.

You’re so strong, he thought as the ability to think left him and the blood rushed to his face and chest. Her confidence seemed new; this position itself was new. She moved up and down on with fluid authority, and her breasts swayed with temperate rhythm. No matter how strong a Quincy I become, I will always be helpless before you.

He arched his back in acquiescence of this truth, opened his mouth in silent awe.

**

It was as sleep was overtaking them that Orihime seemed to intuit that her lover needed to know just one more thing. "Kurosaki-kun is training behind a barrier," she said. "No one had seen him for days, but I found him." She pressed her cheek against Ishida’s bare chest. "I will always be able to sense Kurosaki-kun. Always."

And as Ishida’s hand petted her hair, she added, "I sense you in a different way."

"I know."

"I sense you because you’re always listening for me, always watching for me. I know…" Her eyes closed and her mind gave him the rest. I know you will never leave me.

**

At some point in the early morning, before dawn was visible but after the deep night’s blackness was gone, Orihime got up to pee. When she came back from the bathroom, she was stricken with terrible longing at the sight of her young lover in the pale light. Ishida had moved over from his scrunched sideways position on the futon meant for one and was now lying on his back, arms outstretched, mouth open.

No one ever sees him looking like this. Just relaxed. Brow so smooth.

Orihime wanted to bounce on his lovely body right then and there, but after a moment considering if this over-eagerness was her prerogative as a girlfriend or if she might give him a hernia, she decided that it would be better to kiss him awake.

She leaned over him. She took his limp fist in her hand and stroked his long thumb with her tiny one. She could see individual black lashes on his cheeks and the fine pink veins of his shut eyelids.

Déjà vu? Maybe in another life she had dreamed this very scenario. She felt a slight lurch of fear. Would she ever have to say goodbye to him? She stared at his sleeping face.

Beautiful.

She bent forward without deliberation and opened her mouth against his. It fit. It was right. The underside of his top lip felt right as rain. Comforting, eternal. He moved beneath her without surprise and began to kiss her back.

He wrapped his arms around her and swept his fingers into her hair.

**

In the month that followed, Orihime continued to train in Soul Society, and Ishida returned, reluctantly, to train with Ryuuken. Ishida was still sworn not to become involved in Shinigami business, but his father seemed willing to overlook a human girlfriend who had very close connections to Shinigami business.

"I will become stronger," Orihime swore, and Ishida believed her. He was more resolute than ever in his duty to protect her, but because she had expressed faith in him when he had no powers, he trusted that she was evolving from a self-doubting and highly sensitive girl into what might be a warrior-angel of determination. You are already so strong, he thought as she wrapped her arms around his neck at night. You have broken through your own loneliness and you have broken through mine. Sometimes I think you can heal the whole world.

When the Arrancar came to engage the fighters of Karakura, they expected that any Quincy interference would take place on the front lines. They did not foresee that Ishida Uryuu, his senses always intent on Orihime’s whereabouts, could feel her presence in the dangai and knew precisely when Ulquiorra showed up to confront her.

Ishida was at the threshold of the dangai when she emerged, wearing the bracelet that cloaked her spirit, made her invisible to all human senses. All Ishida knew was that he could no longer detect Orihime, and the ghoulish-faced presence standing before him was some part of Aizen’s scheme. He did not hesitate. He did not doubt. I will protect you, his heart spoke, and he drew his bow.

Orihime had to duck the arrow that caught Ulquiorra completely by surprise. Hit in the shoulder and falling, Ulquiorra saw his attacker and drew his zanpakutou, and it was at that moment that his body split in halves.

The little v-shape that was Tsubaki arched into the sky, did a double victory loop and returned to Orihime’s hairpin.

Ishida still couldn’t see Orihime, but he had seen what killed Ulquiorra.

"Orihime!" he shouted, even though he had never doubted that she was alive.

A thin glittering bracelet fell to the ground, and then Orihime was in her Quincy archer’s arms. She was sobbing and shaking. "I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t hesitate."

Neither did any of the Shinigami who were battling Arrancar elsewhere. The Arrancar faced imminent defeat until Grimmjow sensed that the leader of their mission was dead. At that point, with a crazy smile of triumph, as if he could not be happier about the news, Grimmjow summoned a negation light and a speedy retreat.

"I have to heal them," Orihime whispered to Ishida. True to his word to Ryuuken, Ishida carried her so far as the battle site and then left her among the wounded Shinigami.

The great war was still to come, and Ishida’s participation in it was still doubtful. One certainty had emerged, however, from this single battle: Ishida and Orihime both knew what they wanted to protect, and neither would ever choose anything else over it.

You are so strong, Ishida thought as he watched Orihime summon her glowing shield over the wide space where the bleeding lay. Is it because you are so strong that our love is? I have to wonder if I even deserve you.

And as he hovered in the sky and saw that Kuchiki-san was holding Kurosaki’s head in her lap, Ishida was aware of his own distance from the one he wanted to hold.

End

I may yet continue this story, but I’m tired of it and have another IshiHime A/U in the works. Thank you Incandescens for the new story idea and thank you Finnigan Geist for encouraging my crazy obsessions and for beta-ing this chapter.

I still have absolute faith that IshiHime will happen in canon.

~debbiechan, 8/24/06