Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Five Kisses That Didn't Happen ❯ One-Shot

Five Kisses That Didn’t Happen

by debbiechan

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach or its characters, but Kubo-san can’t keep all the fangurls and fanbois satisfied round the clock. Here’s where we fic folk come to save the day!

Description: I’m crafting a story around canon facts again! This little romance, told from the viewpoint of the innocent Orihime, was written in an attempt to placate readers traumatized by the heartless, depressing smutfest that was "Eight Hours One Night." Characters mentioned herein are Orihime, Kon, Ichigo, Rangiku, Umesada (that lowly 20th seat of the ninth division), Ishida, Unohana, Chizuru, Tatsuki, and even Renji.

Warnings: AHEM, SPOILERS GALORE! Please don’t read unless you’re caught up with the manga and know who Ryuuken is.

Kiss One

"Hello, lovely lady, might I ask… your name?"--Kon to Orihime, 14:14

Each night as her head landed on the pillow, Orihime remembered truths that Rukia had tried to make her forget.

The growing might of Orihime’s spirit power kept knocking out whatever was binding her memories, and the newly freed images floated in her head like dreams, even though Orihime was wide awake when they came.

The first images she recalled were those of Onii-chan as a Hollow. A deep, settled sense of love and peace surrounded those blood-tinged images, though, and Orihime waded through the memory of the last time she saw her brother without anxiety. Other, more disquieting images would surface later--ones of Kurosaki-kun in a strangely relaxed stance in an open window. The boy was smiling, hand on hip, in these memories, and woah, had he leapt to the classroom window from three stories below?

Then one night, the memory came of Kurosaki doing what Orihime had always wished he might do.

Kurosaki bowed with elaborate grace, and one hand reached to cup the base of Orihime’s skull. Through the thick hair at her neck, she could feel the tenderness of the touch. Then Kurosaki’s other hand raised her limp fingers to his mouth--

No! Kurosaki-kun did not kiss me!

Orihime knew, with a fierce certainty, that although Kurosaki’s lips had touched her, his soul had not.

Even after she found out about the existence of mod-souls, her dissatisfaction with the kiss lingered.

She replayed the memory over and over. A smiling boy had kissed her, and she had felt total emptiness. A cruel irony seemed to fit this truth; would the real Kurosaki-kun ever be moved to press those lips against Orihime’s? Even when he seemed friendly and close, he was as far away as heaven is from earth.

Many months later, what Rangiku-san would say about Kurosaki-kun being young and unable to "grasp certain moments" would not make Orihime feel better at all.

There was always something between her and Kurosaki-kun, wasn’t there?

Some nights it fell like sheets and sheets of rain.

Kiss Two

"What do you think? Want to come to my room tonight? Hmm?… I won’t treat you wrong."--Umesada Toshimori to Orihime, 119:12

The Shinigami man held the base of her skull the way Kurosaki’s mod soul had. He moved closer, and Orihime could see black hairs and pale boogers up his nose.

What was it Tatsuki had said to do at a time like this? An open-palmed swat to the face? That’s what girls did in the movies. Threaten to squeal to the principal? No, that had been Ryo-chan’s advice. Tatsuki’s advice had been to knee the guy in the groin? This wasn’t school, though, and Orihime was pretending to be a Shinigami, and would a Shinigami woman--?

All at once, Ishida was standing between Orihime and Booger-nose, and Ishida-kun was lifting the man’s hand off her shoulder as if Shinigami flesh was something Quincy fingers loathed to touch.

"The drifter problem," Ishida said in a remarkably grown-up and measured voice, "is so great that even wartime exemptions were passed. At a time like this, I don’t think that a seated officer such as yourself has time to do something like that…"

Even when the Shinigami got mad over being lectured and grabbed Ishida’s robe, Ishida-kun maintained a stone cold mean look. Booger-nose lifted Ishida so close to his face that it looked like he might kiss Ishida-kun.

Both guys stared burning holes into one another.

"Umesada-dono!" The other officers called, and the moment was over. Booger-nose fled to pursue his duties, and Ishida-kun’s face relaxed.

At that moment it occurred to Orihime that Ishida had looked waaaaay more upset about the possibility of her being kissed than he had ever looked about the possibility of her being killed in Soul Society.

Much much later, while caring for the wounded in the fourth division building, Orihime saw Booger-nose lying in a bed with two broken legs in wooden splints. She asked about him and was told that he’d had the misfortune of standing in the path of Vice Captain Yachiru’s shunpou.

Poor weak thing, Orihime thought. She could have protected herself easily against his amorous advances. It’s just that she hadn’t wanted to … hurt his feelings? Oh, Ishida-kun was right. Indeed, Orihime was better prepared to handle herself against would-be killers than would-be kissers. She would have to get more tips on the matter from Tatsuki.

Kiss Three

The night that Captain Unohana told her that all critical patients were out of danger, Orihime cried. She didn’t mean to start bawling, but she had just taken a hot bath and maybe her blood pressure was very low. She was very relieved that Renji-san and Byakuya-san, who both had looked so bloody and full of holes, were going to live, but still, that was no reason to fall into heaving sobs onto Captain Unohana’s lap.

"I’m sorry," Orihime sputtered. "I’m … just … so… very…" Orihime didn’t know what she was, but whatever it was, she was very whatever.

Captain Unohana, who had struck Orihime as being the person everyone would like to have for a mother, did not say anything, and Orihime thought this was strange. Wouldn’t the perfect mother say the perfect thing to a hysterically sobbing girl?

All Unohana did was stroke Orihime’s hair. The tiny hand lightly swept from the top of Orihime’s head to the small of her back. It didn’t seem to be a healing gesture at all, just a sympathetic one and maybe one delighting in Orihime’s pretty hair.

Orihime was half-asleep before she realized that she still felt sad for the twelfth division men who had died in that explosion. She felt tired from having summoned Shun Shun Rikka so many times. She felt a little scared over the prospect of having to travel through the dangai again to return to her world. But she didn’t, she realized under Unohana’s gentle hand, feel like crying anymore.

"Is she asleep?" It was Ishida-kun’s voice, and it was whispering.

"I was about to make a bed for her here in my office. There are some sheets in that closet there--would you get some for me, please?"

"She--" Ishida’s voice was closer instead of further away. "Is she alright?" His breath was on her face. "She looks like--was she crying?"

"Exhausted, poor child," Unohana said. "She waited until she knew all our patients were going to survive before she let go."

"I can carry her back to her room."

"It’s quieter here, Ishida-san. She’ll be fine."

It was at that point that Orihime almost sat up, but the exhaustion in her limbs was immense. She allowed herself to be moved the short distance from Unohana’s lap to the floor, where something soft was bundled under her cheek. She felt herself being covered with infirmary sheets.

"I’ll be in the burn unit if anyone needs me," Unohana said in a voice that sounded regal even whispering. "She’ll be fine. She just needs to sleep."

Orihime heard footsteps walk away and some long moments passed before she realized that Ishida-kun was standing over her. She could not smell his reiatsu the way she could Kurosaki-kun’s…. Was there even a spirit power there? Ishida was good at hiding his, but she heard his quiet breathing, felt the warmth of his presence.

Then he knelt beside her.

Orihime was really waking up now, but she thought it might spook Ishida-kun if she suddenly opened her eyes. Everything seemed so still and dream-like.

"Good-night, Inoue-san."

The words were spoken against her forehead, and Orihime felt a rush of warmth remembering how Onii-chan used to read bedtime stories to her and then kiss her goodnight.

But Ishida-kun didn’t kiss her, and after he left the room, Orihime fell fast asleep.

Kiss Four

"You’ve been so different since summer vacation," Chizuru said at lunch.

"Really?" Orihime pinched her juice-box straw with her teeth. There was no more juice left. "How?"

"You brush back your bangs. That gives you a more grown-up look. Oh here, I’ve got an extra." Chizuru handed Orihime another juice-box. "Maybe it’s just your hairstyle that’s different. It calls attention to your forehead. Makes me think that you’re thinking deep thoughts."

Orihime smiled. "Me?"

Chizuru made a face. "No, no, you’re different. You don’t giggle as much. You don’t freak out over Kurosaki as much. Did you and he get friendlier over the summer or what?"

Orihime felt her cheeks flush, and she lowered her eyes. "He’s just a boy. What is there to be nervous about? Boys are just people. Kurosaki-kun is a good person."

"He’s morbid and ugly," said Chizuru. "Ah, what’s this? You have mustard all over your cheek, Hime, and it’s very cute."

Orihime looked around for a napkin and found none.

Her glasses glinting in the noonday sun, Chizuru leaned closer to Orihime’s face. "Here, I can licky-licky it off." Chizuru’s pink tongue darted out of her smiling mouth.

This was the point at which Tatsuki usually hit Chizuru with a thermos bottle or pushed her over and threatened to step on her neck, but Tatsuki had gone to the bathroom and wasn’t around to fend off "that libertine."

"Oh, I’m so messy." Orihime stood up, touching the wet condiment on her face. "Eew, look! Now I’ve got it on my fingers. I better go wash my face."

"You’re so darling!" Chizuru called after her. "The way you eat with such abandon! You’re a hedonist at heart, you know! You’ve got appetites crazier than mine, Hime!"

At the bathroom door, Orihime considered that last remark and giggled. Liking a boy who had glowing hair and spoke to the dead was on a par with liking mustard on dessert, wasn’t it?

Kiss Five

"Ishida-kun hasn’t been feeling well … for a while, even before coming back from Soul Society."--Orihime to Ichigo and Chad, 183:16

Orihime didn’t need to smell Ishida-kun’s reiatsu to know that something was … very wrong with him. While they were still in Soul Society, nearly everyone had been emanating feelings of pain and confusion, and so Orihime didn’t pay much notice to Ishida’s erratic emotional vibrations. Then, on Urahara-san’s carpet ride home, Orihime had stared at Ishida’s sad face for a long while before deciding that he was lonely and missing Kuchiki-san.

He was acting just like those lovesick boys in shoujo manga.

She wanted to ask him if she could help somehow, but she knew that Ishida-kun was a very private person.

Then one afternoon, a noisy, crowded fundraiser was held in the school gymnasium. Handicraft club members were selling handbags, painted fans, and decorative wall scrolls. Other student clubs sold rice-cakes and balloons, and one could sit for a quick pastel portrait by art club members. Orihime was surprised to find Ishida standing at a table before rows and rows of handpainted dolls. Ishida never volunteered for these things, and he was rarely assigned sales duty; he was notorious for his icy demeanor, and the club preferred that he stay clear of potential buyers at fundraisers.

"Ishida-kun? I thought these events were too loud for you."

The look that Ishida gave Orihime was heavy-lidded and strange. "They are," he said in a weak voice.

Orihime stared for a moment. "Why, you’re sick," she surmised in a little gasping voice. "You don’t look well at all." She continued in a more practical, judicious tone: "Well, if you’re sick, you must go home and rest. I don’t have a table this year, and I can sell these."

To her surprise, Ishida didn’t protest. He nodded politely. He said, "Thank you, Inoue-san," and, without further ceremony, walked away.

Orihime watched him leave the gym, and then she dropped her gaze to the table of dolls. The dolls were popular items. Third year had molded the plaster, and second year had painted the hair and faces. Some of the more talented students of all grades had fashioned tiny clothes for them. Orihime herself had sewn silk haori overcoats for a few dolls, and Ishida had made stuffed felt swords for the Samurai dolls.

Orihime picked up one of the tiny Samurai and recognized the odd-toothed blade used by Renji-san in Soul Society; Renji-san had often trained with the eleventh division while everyone was recuperating in those last days. So Ishida-kun had paid attention to those mock battles after all? Orihime could not remember him being around much, and yet Ishida had replicated Renji-san’s weapon in black and gray felt and glued it to the doll’s raised hand.

Orihime, Orihime, Orihime! Why are you so worried, Orihime?

Orihime raised her head and squinted into the bright indoor lights over the basketball court. Shun Shun Rikka rarely spoke to her, but when they did, it was to cheer her up--well, except for Tsubaki, who called her "foolish female" a lot.

I don’t know how to help Ishida-kun, said Orihime in her heart. Or even if I can.

There was some giggling overhead. The tiny beings were whispering among one another. Then Ayume’s voice sounded, tiny but clear: Of COURSE you can help him, Orihime. In fact, no one else really can. Go to him now! What are you waiting for?

Orihime returned her attention to her table. An elderly woman was holding up a doll and examining it with finicky, expert attention. "Please," Orihime said to her. "Would you watch this table for a moment? I’ll be right back. You can have a free doll for your trouble!" And she fled to go find Ishida-kun.

She searched for him for what seemed longer than necessary. His reiatsu was invisible, and while she was walking the streets in the direction of his home, it occurred to her that perhaps Ishida-kun had lost his powers. That happened to warriors in battle, didn’t it? In fact, Ishida-kun himself had somehow stripped reiatsu from that projectiles Shinigami with a well-placed arrow to the--

"Inoue-san? What’s wrong?"

Orihime startled and stopped walking. Ishida-kun was sitting on a grassy hillock in front of an old-styled, small apartment building. He looked alright, just mopey, and his legs seemed very long and thin against the browning lawn grass.

"I’m fine, Ishida-kun. I was worried about you--I was worried because you seemed--" Orihime paused to breathe. She had been walking at a brisk pace for over half an hour.

Had Shun Shun Rikka told her what she was supposed to do when she found Ishida-kun?

"You’re sick, and I didn’t even offer to try to heal you. That was rude of me, wasn’t it?"

Orihime stepped closer to the grassy hillock, put palms out before her, and began her incantation. "I reject--"

Ishida grabbed her by the wrist. Orihime made a little squealing noise.

"Please don’t," said Ishida. "It’s nothing you can heal."

"But I thought you said you were sick?" Orihime looked from Ishida’s gloomy face to where he held her, perhaps a little too tightly, with his long, big-knuckled fingers.

"I’m sorry," said Ishida and dropped her wrist as if it were a poisonous thing. He looked away. "You didn’t have to follow me. Like you said, I just need to rest. It’s nothing, really."

Orihime knelt next to him and folded her hands in her lap. It’s nothing was Ishida-kun’s signature line. He would say it standing in the path of an oncoming train. Orihime thought that if she sat very still and waited for him to speak again, then maybe he would tell her what the matter was.

The days were getting shorter, and the sun was already low and melting into the hazy colors of early evening. Cicadas were humming, and somewhere on the block a mother was calling her children indoors for dinner. Ishida seemed to watch the sky for a long while, and then, still not looking at Orihime, he spoke in a tone that seemed strangely formal for the boy she had gotten to know in the Seireitei: "I probably won’t be coming back to school for a while."

"Ishida-kun?" Orihime wanted ask a dozen questions, but she hesitated, not knowing which to ask first.

"I appreciate your concern, Inoue-san. You are always trying to help people." Ishida turned to look at her now. "But I want you to know that this is not anything you should worry about. I’m--I’m taking on a project with my father, and you shouldn’t wonder where I’ve disappeared to."

Orihime felt her jaw drop. "Your father?" Ishida-kun never talked about him. "But how can your father--?" Orihime noticed that some of Ishida’s hair was sticking to his brow. Did he have a fever? She couldn’t stop her hand from rising to touch him there. This time Ishida did not try to stop her, and his eyes were fixed on hers. "Can your father make you well again?" Orihime brushed back the black hair with two fingertips. He didn’t feel fever-hot. It was a warm day, so maybe he was just sweating. "Your father is a doctor, right?"

"Yes," said Ishida.

Ordinarily being so close to someone’s face would have made Orihime spaz out or giggle. People’s energies tended to overwhelm her and make her feel funny. But whether it was the mysterious absence of Ishida’s reiatsu or just the fact that she felt very comfortable around him, Orihime felt that she could not break her pose--one hand at his brow, the other poised between their bodies and wanting to comfort him somehow.

Someone walking by would think that--

I’m about to kiss him, Orihime thought, and at that instant Ishida began to stand up. He brushed grass off his pants.

"My father is a doctor," Ishida said, his voice significantly less guarded than it was before. "He’s also a Quincy. I must insist on walking you home, Inoue-san. You didn’t have to come out here to find me. I misled you at the gym. I really wasn’t feeling up to the whole tedious affair of selling wares, so I dumped the task on you. I’m sorry."

"Oh no!" Orihime’s hand flew to her mouth. "I left an old woman there with all the dolls! I told her I was going be right back." Orihime leapt to her feet. "You don’t have to walk with me." Her hands began to fan in protest. "If you’re not feeling well, then you should just stay--besides, I told Tatsuki I’d meet her at the sale! Oh, she’s probably looking for me now! Bye, Ishida-kun!"

Orihime ran down the street without looking back. When she had run a couple blocks, she stopped and considered that if Ishida had any powers left, he could have made the distance in an instant. And he wasn’t here. He didn’t follow her.

She folded her hand into a limp fist and pressed it against her heart. Please be okay, Ishida-kun. She looked up at the golden sky, but her spirit voices were silent. Maybe there was nothing more to say? Maybe Orihime had already cheered up Ishida-kun a little? He did seem happier when he offered to walk her home.

Orihime would not have much time to wonder about these things. The very next day, two strange beings would emerge from Hueco Mundo and attack the people of Karakura.

END

Thank you to Kaeru-chan whose story "20 Facts About Inoue Orihime" gave us the Orihime-cries-in-Unohana’s-lap moment. That moment struck me as so real I had to use it, but I didn’t have Ishida carry a sleeping Orihime because somewhere in my canon ficcage ("Friends?"), I have Ishida recall that the only time he held Orihime was when he rescued her from the projectiles expert. I’m fussy about things like that.

LisaB is the beta who worked extra hard for me when I was manga-deprived and writing more than usual. She’s the main reason you don’t see asinine errors in these fics; it’s not that I don’t make my share from time to time.