Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own any part of Bleach. We'll leave that to Kubo Tito. I don't own any of the short stories, literary works or video games named below either, save the English "textbook" and the "book" Fairy Tales and Myths Around the World.

Rating: T (for later chapters)

Pairing(s): Ishida x Orihime, Ichigo x Rukia (hint), Renji x Tatsuki (hint)
Spoilers: none (if there are, notify me…)

Princess Uryuu

By: Seiano

- Chapter One: English Project -

I only fight to protect, even if the face I wear says otherwise. That is my job, the job of a princess.

"'A woman is the cornerstone of the household, she is the neck of the family. That is the twenty-first century view of women. However, in the 1920s…' " The monotonous English teacher droned on.

Orihime was looking out at the window once more. Her eyes met the clear azure sky dotted with wisps of clouds. The birds flitted from tree to tree in the courtyard near her classroom. She sighed. Indeed, today was a beautiful day. All was almost wonderful. First of all, she had just created a new concoction of red bean paste, salsa and rice and was absolutely dying to try it out, and she wouldn't mind if Tatsuki and Kuchiki-san would "just-so-happen" to experiment along side her. After that, class rankings were posted and she did beautifully, perhaps not as well as Ishida but good enough in her book. To top it all off, she managed to finish her second project for the sewing club without the help of Ishida. She turned her head around to face her orange haired crush, none other than Kurosaki Ichigo, who was engaged in a wordless argument with his beloved Kuchiki-san. Yes, everything would be perfect if only Kurosaki-kun would join her, if he would only see her, if he would only take notice of her. If only he would take his eyes off Kuchiki-san, Orihime added, with a slight hint of jealousy. She shook her head at the thought. Bad thoughts, bad thoughts.

"Inoue," the voice of the teacher called.

"Eh?" the large busted girl asked, completely oblivious to her predicament as she stood up.

"Mmh, eto, girls are very important and, ano, they have greatly influenced the history of Japan!" she answered squeakily. The teacher held her head in her hands. This was the tenth time today that this girl had phased out of her classroom. The class burst into laughter. Orihime joined them in a nervous laugh as she slipped back into her seat and sunk into her chair. As the laughter died down, Orihime hid her blushing face in the pages of her textbook until she heard someone.

"We were reading about women and their influence on literature in America, Inoue, not Japan," she heard a familiar voice whisper. "You know…"She turned around to face her benefactor.

"Ishida, please read the text," the teacher called. Her benefactor stood up.

"And so, stories like The Wallpaper were written in subtle opposition to constraints placed on American women of their day. It was short stories like these that changed the world and revolutionized people's thinking. They were fictional pieces that changed the world," he read, in a confident voice.

"Thank you, Ishida," the middle aged teacher spoke, with a smile as she threw a glare at Orihime. "Now class, now that we have finished our unit on American short stories, we will do a large project that will encompass the past two units of English literature: Shakespeare and Fairy Tales."

The class groaned in unison. Ishida sat down in his seat, proceeded to close his textbook and join his fellow classmates in their protest. Didn't we already have a project like this last week? He thought as he used his index finger to adjust his spectacles. As he did so, he caught a glance at the teacher's face. He thought he saw a shadow of a smirk.

"Come now, class," she began again, after the noise had died down momentarily. "This project is going to be a combination of your speaking and writing skills." She paused to smile at the class. "This project will incorporate a writing of a play. To make this more interesting, the play must be in English and will be performed in front of a panel of judges for a certain something."

This only magnified the incessant groans pouring forth from the students. The Quincy's expression was completely blank, but, frankly, he was not thrilled by this one little add-on. Contrary to common beliefs, he was not a nerd and certainly did not enjoy going to school. No, absolutely not. Instead he resented every bit of work he had to. In fact, the only reason he had chosen to receive higher education than the nationally mandated amount was due to his Quincy pride. After all, his father was a doctor. Ishida remained silent, wondering what other surprises lurked in the details of this English project.

"I will now announce the partners that I have already chosen," the English teacher stated, with a hint of joy in her voice as the students slumped in defeat in their seats. "Renji and Tatsuki."

I wonder how that will work out. Ishida thought carelessly as he took out his own book and began to read as the two hotheaded classmates exchanged quick glances and looked away.

Aww, I kinda wanted to be with Tatsuki. Orihime thought with regret, but her thoughts quickly brightened. But then again, that means I still have a chance to be partnered up with Kurosaki-kun!

"Hitsugaya and Rangiku."

The white haired tensai let his icy blue gaze fall on his indolent large busted vice-captain. She smirked at him and leaned over so that her chest was in full view in the large opening of her uniform. Keigo swooned in blood loss, as did many other male classmates. The young captain stared at her contemptuously before turning around.

No comment. Ishida thought as he turned the page in his book.

Rangiku-san… and…Hitsugaya-taichou? Orihime wondered.

"Kurosaki and Kuchiki."

Expected. Ishida pushed his glasses up higher on his delicate face. Inoue will not be happy with this. That is a decided fact. He put his hand-sized book to look at the auburn haired girl he had mentioned. If only she would she past it.

Orihime shifted in her sheet, in obvious discomfort. Again? She quietly wept in her mind. Why can't I get near him? Why can't I get my chance? She looked up to see her orange haired friend sitting at his desk, glaring daggers at that conniving adopted spirit noble. Why does she keep stealing everything dear to me?

"Ishida and Inoue."

Time seemed to stand still. Inoue? The Quincy swallowed slightly, doubting what he had just heard. He twisted around in his seat to see the blessed princess of womanhood, meeting her wide eyes of surprise. He sensed that she thought the same as he did. Suddenly, the auburn princess stood up to address her teacher.

"Ano, Kirahara-sensei," she stuttered as her eyes darted to and fro.

"Nanda, Orihime," the teacher replied, trying to conceal her irritation.

"May I change partners?" Orihime blurted out, with all her pent up confidence.

"Inoue, I hand picked these partners. You will work with Ishida," the teacher answered sternly, sending the girl back into the comforts of her seat of embarrassment.

The Quincy descendant eyed the dejected princess from his seat. He raised his eyebrows ever so slightly before he returned to his book. The title read Fairy Tales and Myths of the World.

…

The harsh clang of the ringing bell shattered the silence of the classroom as they filed out from class. School had ended. As the crowds of high school students poured from the academy gates, the freshman class paired off in twos as they went along. No, it was not Valentine's Day. Actually, it was quite the opposite. The English teacher had assigned five pieces of literature, each requiring a three paged typed English essay concerning the literary elements of the piece and a hand written Japanese essay explaining the history of each piece. It didn't take an atomic physicist to recognize that this project was overwhelming, even though she gave them month to finish it.

Ishida strode out of the school doors alone. Through the entire day, he had not approached Orihime, concerning the project or as a friend in general. It was not that it had slipped his mind; rather, he could not help but to think of her request in English today. May I change partners? His eyebrows knitted together in a frustrated manner. Was he that pitiful? He hoped not. As he pondered this, he saw the auburn beauty walking in front of him, unconsciously swaying her hips in her strut across the school.

"Inoue!" Ishida called, in a light voice, hoping to grab her attention. Orihime swung around, smiling, but when she saw the Quincy, her demeanor shifted into a set frown. She tried to conceal it when she noticed her action, but it was too late.

"Inoue, I was wondering when we could work on our English project," Ishida asked, warily.

"Eto, I don't really know. I, umm, have, uh, cooking lessons… Fri-day," she stuttered, staring at her feet in defeat. "Yea, Friday. Yea, see you, Ishida-kun!"

Ishida frowned. He knew what her smile was for and he knew why it faded. Why can't you look past him?

…

The sound of light footsteps filled the hallway of the apartment building. A slender hand reached into her bag to pull out a set of keys adorned with a small onigiri-cartoon keychain. The metal clinked and tinkled as she slipped them into the lock and turned. The door swung open, to the silence of nothingness. Without much thought, her feet carried her before the small home-altar consisting of a simple table with a single picture on it.

"Okairi, nii-san," a feminine voice said, with feigned cheerfulness. Her head fell slightly.

"Nii-san, I had a horrible day at school today," she began after a pause. "Do you remember that orange haired shinigami that saved you? Well, you know how I like him, right?"

She shifted slightly on her knees so that she sat with her legs under her body.

"So, my English teacher gave us partners for another of her huge projects. And guess what? He got paired up with Kuchiki-san."

Hands shook the edge of the table as she leaned up.

"Why can't I be with him? The fantasy keeps running in my brain and we are perfect! Why can't it be reality?"

Crystal rivers of self-pity and hatred ran down her face.

"Why is Kuchiki-san so perfect? She shadows the rest of us. She is like a princess of glory and I am the dirt beneath her feet."

She drew her knees up to face and bowed her face.

"I guess it's better for Kurosaki-kun to be with her. I hope he's happy."

She fell silent. But I can't help asking why he and I can't be together. Why can't he notice me?

…

Pale deft hands danced with the small needle and cloth they held. Within seconds, the knot was tied and completed the union of the two pieces of silk. The excess was cut off and placed in a box. Pale hands held up the completed design, which was then placed on the desk, to be forgotten for their beauty, forgotten for what they were supposed to be.

The spectacles upon his face glinted in the bright desk lamp as his eyes averted to the open textbook and then to the small black Panasonic cordless phone on the nightstand next to the bed. He walked over to hold the small electronic device in his hand. The screen alighted with a fluorescent white and a rainbow of color arranged in a peculiar design akin to that of the Final Fantasy X symbol. Beep, beep. Suddenly, small black numbers replaced the symbol as the slender fingers tapped the buttons on the phone's jet-black plastic surface.

The ringing sound of the dialing tone pulsed in his ear. Ring, ring, ring. In the middle of the fifth pulse, his finger hit the button under the red figure on the screen. Call Ended, the screen read. He placed the small device in its previous resting place. Turning around, he gracefully leaned over to his desk. His desk lamp shut off and his computer slowly came to a whirr of the fan and then fell silent.

He now faced his bed. He loosened the tie around his neck quickly and hung it on the back of his desk chair. Within the next moments, he shed himself of the recollections of school, shrugging off his shirt and then his trousers, quickly folding them into neat squares as he entered the bathroom adjoining his bedroom.

He took a quick shower, letting the dirt of the day and the memories wash away with the soap and the water drenching his hair and on his pale body. He let them wash away, and swirl down the drain to the ocean. He would find them the next day. They always came back.

Stepping out of the shower, he whipped a soft white towel from the side, wiped himself dry and threw on underwear and a loose pair of pajamas to cover over that pale body, that shapely body that was sickly in his own mind. He brushed his teeth rapidly, leaving them "pearly white" and "shining" and what a cliché façade it was.

Slipping under the covers he placed his spectacles and his mask on the nightstand. Here he put on his masquerade of thoughts over the fear of the next day. I will try tomorrow.

He donned the mask of sleep.

…

tsuzuku

AN: Hope you like it so far. Please R&R! Suggestions are welcome (and greatly appreciated).