Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach (it's number one on my wish list though). I do not own any of the other literary works referred to in this story (save the essays and "Bridge of Tears").

Author's Note: My apologies for not updating for such a long time. All I have to say are exams, papers, and teachers that conspire together to torment their students.

Rating: T (for later chapters)

Pairing(s): IshidaxOrihime, hint: IchigoXRukia, RenjiXTatsuki

Spoiler(s): pre-soul society and soul society arcs

Princess Uryuu

By: Seiano

- Chapter 3: "…pride bears two vines…" -

The sun was high in the sky, letting her golden raindrops lavish the earth with warmth and beauty. Her golden fingertips were met by the whispering of the wind. They silently conversed as they guarded the sleeping earth. Suddenly, two shrill cries shattered the delicate slumber.

"Hurry up!" a young boy yelled as he ran down the hill in glee. "The bus is going to leave soon!" His arms were spread out wide, as if the wind were to lift him into flight. As he neared the bottom, he canter faltered and he tumbled onto the lush fields of emerald.

"Matte!" a higher voice cried from above him. He looked up to see a young girl in a plaid sundress. Her fiery hair swayed in the wind as she cautiously made her way down the hill.

"You're so slow," the male retorted, watching the girl tumble off the rock he had tripped on, landing next to him. The female's face contorted into a frown and tears shined on the corners of her eyes.

"You're bleeding," the boy noted matter-of-factly. The girl nodded sheepishly, using the back of her hands to keep away the tears. They looked at each other for a moment and broke into a tinkering laughter. After a minute, they paused.

"I don't think I'll be able to walk on this," the girl stated, seriously as she stifled the giggles from before. He looked at her with worry but the girl looked away. The girl gazed up at the sky in wonder as the boy looked across the field.

"There's no one here yet…" he began as he shielded his eyes from the glory of the sun until his vision encompassed familiar human like figures in their vicinity.

"Oi!" the boy cried out, waving his hands frantically at his acquaintances, which returned his gesture.

"Hurry, the bus is going to leave!" the figures replied with a faint shout. The boy's face set aglow. The young girl beside him tugged at his sleeve.

"Don't go with them," she pleaded softly. "I can't walk anymore."

"But we have to get on the bus," the young male child reasoned. "This is a once in a lifetime chance."

"Don't go," the girl only whispered. "Don't leave me."

The boy looked at the girl and then at the waving figures on the horizon. He then took his hand and brushed the girl's pale fingers off him and took after the group on the other side of the field. The girl pushed up off the ground only to stumble and crumple to the ground in defeat and in tears.

The wails reached the boy's ears and he turned around in disbelief. Each cry shook and quenched his heart and slowly. He felt a pulsating pain throbbing in his head and fell into an abyss of darkness that engulfed his mind with the rain beating around him.

"I did not know then that pride is a wonderful, terrible thing, a seed that bears two vines, life and death."

…

Cobalt oceans flung open to meet the black silence that filled the room. Soft hues of the streetlamp lights filtered through the translucent material falling over the window. A cough shattered the silence as the male lifted his head from its uncomfortable position on his makeshift pillow of a textbook. He lazily ran a hand through his dark hair before allowing his pale fingers to adjust his spectacles. He turned his head to look at the softly glowing light of the digital clock.

2:30 AM. Tuesday, September 18, 2007.

A small sigh escaped from between the carved snowy lips. He quickly allowed his deft hands to remove the textbook from his desk and placed it in the book bag next to his desk. Quietly, he lifted his form from the plush desk chair and proceeded to the bathroom connecting to his room. Within seconds, he shed himself of the wretched starched "cloth" that was given the name of a school uniform. Stepping into the shower, he turned the small silver knob, allowing the crystal droplets drench him in a downpour of steaming rain. He closed his eyes and let the sound of the pattering water around him fade to darkness.

…

Ishida looked at his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. Some would say he was paranoid, others would comment on how punctual he was, but in reality he was everything but those two. He gently allowed his back to casually lean against the telephone pole he was standing next to. It was Tuesday and Orihime and he had agreed to go to school early to discuss their English project. Currently, it was 7:30 AM. Orihime was a decided half an hour late. Ishida sighed as he lifted his head to let the morning rays grace his pale skin. As he did so, obscure strands of black hair fell above his eyes.

"Don't leave me."

From his small point on Earth, the sun looked so far away. Well, Ishida corrected himself, it truly is far away. Millions and billions of astronomical units and light years away. He stopped in mid-thought. The sun was a glittering jewel hung in a discreet sky of cobalt tears. How far away it was. Ishida extended his arm towards the sky and placed the hand in the area the sun occupied his vision. He cupped his hand. But here, the jewel was so close, in the palm of a hand. Yet what mockery, what scorn that such images should never come true.

"Ishida-kun!" a shrill voice shattered the thin glass of silence that enveloped the young Quincy. Whether it was for better or for worse was yet to be decided.

"Ohiyo, Inoue," the speckled boy answered with a pall of indifference. His icy yet warm features set, unchanging, as if carved in stone. Orihime breathed hard as she stopped short before her companion.

"Gomene, Ishida-kun. The rice I was trying to cook burned and then the red bean paste that I was microwaving exploded and then there was the curry that over boiled and spilled everywhere and, eto," the auburn haired princess began to explain.

"Daijoubuka, Inoue. I didn't wait for a long time," Ishida replied, attempting to keep the girl from overexcitement with a simple excuse. After all, she did not know him beyond the cross, bow, arrow and glasses.

Orihime sighed in relief as Ishida turned around to pick up his school bag, but was caught short as he turned around to motion for her to come along. Orihime nodded ever so slightly as she followed behind him, allowing a good three strides space between them as they made their way down to the school gates on the east wing of the building.

…

Ishida flicked on the lights as they entered the school's mockery of a library: a room with thirty shelves of books that were hardly touched and mostly useless artifacts that served no purpose other than to collect dust and appeal to the aesthetic senses. If there was any use of this so-called library, it was the computers and the vast desks and tables that flocked the room.

The library was completely empty; the librarian had not even step foot in the room this morning. Ishida smiled. The privileges of being class representative. He strode over to one of the large tables that sported comfortable looking chairs around it. He turned around to see Orihime peering around with round eyes, whether it was of fear or amazement was not a point of concern at this point in time.

"Inoue, sit," Ishida said as he motioned to the chair across from him. The princess turned around in surprise to face her friend. She nodded nervously as she walked over to the table. Smoothing her skirt out, she sat neatly in the plush chair and watched Ishida set the table with textbooks, books and papers.

"So, Inoue, how much have you done?" Ishida asked quietly, sensing her unease.

"Eto, I read through The Scarlet Ibis and…" She paused for a moment, "and took some notes…" She quickly brought up her bag and riffled through multiple unruly and bent papers that exploded from her purse. After five minutes of fruitless searching, she stopped to look up at Ishida. "…but I can't seem to find them right now. Yea, and I think that was it. Gomene, I was busy this week."

"That's okay," Ishida replied without much of emotion. "Here's what I did."

He handed the auburn haired girl a stapled packet of typed and handwritten papers.

"Those include some notes, criticisms and other stuff I found. I also took the initiative to research a little on the history of the author and some of the major critics of this story."

Orihime's eyes widened at the information. Is he expecting me to actually look through this? This weighs a ton!

"Now I feel guilty for not doing anything, gomenasai, Ishida-kun," Inoue stated with a tinge of remorse and bowed her head, hitting her forehead on the wooden top of the table. Ow.

"Daijoubu, Inoue, I just had some time this week," Ishida answered with a nervous smile as Orihime picked up her head to nurse her self-inflicted wound. "Besides, now we can discuss we can do with this short story." Please stop. One – you are giving me a sense of guilt. Two – please stop before I lose my calm temperament because you did not do anything. I know why you did not do anything. Do not take me for a fool.

"Ano Kirihara-sensei said that we had to write a creative piece and an essay for at least one short story," Orihime spoke as her continued to rub her forehead. "I guess we can do it for this piece since you already did so much work. I don't want all your hard work to go to waste, Ishida-kun." Yup, you did more work so less for me to do on this and less for us to discuss, right? I don't want to be here with YOU.

Ishida smiled at her comment. Please stop with your façade. I can see right through it. He is veiling your eyes.

"Then let's talk about what we can use in our essay," the dark haired boy began as he fixed his glasses upon the bridge of his nose. "We should probably talk about a theme or something of the consort."

"True," Orihime answered. "Oh, how about pride? It's the easiest thing. We can use the fact that the narrator's pride brought about the death of his brother Doodle. And our second example would be… eto."

Silence filled the air for about five minutes as the two students pondered over this question.

"I got it… wait never mind," Orihime exclaimed out of the blue.

"How about Doodle's pride in his brother?" Ishida answered after a while, grimacing slightly as he said it.

"Huh? How does that work, Ishida-kun?"

At that moment, the bell for first class rang and Ishida began to pack up his books.

"I shall explain to you some other time," he replied. "For now, I guess I'll write the paper."

…

The rain beat upon the windows and the wind magnified her mourning voice with howls. Midnight oceans were concealed behind pale clouds. They shifted as their master tossed around in the sea of crumpled sheets in a fitful sleep. Chin length raven locks lay soaked by the invisible burden of rain. His lips moved, uttering incomprehensible words as the features of his face contorted with pain. One things crossed those tortured lips:

"Don't leave me."

…

"Brother, brother, don't leave me! Don't leave me!"

My shrill childish voice rang out into the emptiness, crying after the fleeing image of my brother's back. The outline of my infallible savior shrank into the distance until the figure melded with the vast sea of swaying pines, leaving me in the stinging silence of the soft, heretic applause of the rain.

"Don't leave me!" an unknown, gurgled voice rasped from my raw throat as my legs slowed to from the uneven canter to a fast jog, a walk and then to an abrupt stop. "Brother, don't leave me!"

My small chest heaved in exasperation, gasping for air. Among the stillness, a deafening pulse tormented my delicate ears as a surging, erratic pain coursed throughout my juvenile form. My mind attempted to reason with my body, urging it to move for the sake of my brother – my perfect brother and his perfect plan. But he had left me, abandoned me to the mockery of the downpour of hell from the mourning skies. My body refused and crumpled neatly. The rain continued to fall, drenching my hair, my body and my heart.

"Your brother has abandoned you. You are nothing to him," the cold wind howled amongst the pattering of the heavy rainfall, the booming thunder and the speeding pulse in my ears. "You are a failure."

All of a sudden, the deafening throb caught in my ears as the pain seemed to subside at harshness of the thought. Had I failed my brother? Was that why my brother had left me here to die? It couldn't be. I had lived to please my brother and idol.

"No," the soft unknown voice sounded again, this time with a slight sob mixed with the gurgle of the warm salty substance that foamed in my mouth and fear.

Fear. I had lived in constant fear. However, through the fear, I believed in my brother, my perfect brother. His image overcame my fear; the very words he spoke gave life to my limbs and commanded them to walk. But now he was gone. Gone because, unlike the other times, I failed to please him, my idol. He had left me here to die, die from the fear that was instilled from his absence.

"I'm sorry, brother," I cried as the salty liquid that had appeared in my mouth flowed from the corners of my mouth. The scarlet arms of the red nightshade bush I had collapsed next to reached out to comfort me. I pulled my legs close to my heaving chest, disregarding the continuing pain in my body. If I could only see my brother once more to say, "I'm sorry", but, alas, I knew that the time God had allotted for me was almost over. Rivers of tears mingled with the harsh rain as they ran down the soft, pale curves of my features at the thought.

Roses of red clouded my vision as the sting of the piercing rain and movement melted away into numbness. The sounds of my surroundings faded into an eternal silence that likened to the peace my brother held for me. And among the fading clamor of the world that existed to mock me, I heard that beautiful voice.

"Doodle, doodle, don't leave me."

Blue cobalt eyes flung open and light was streaming in from the window.

…

The boy sat in front of the brightly lit LCD computer monitor that evening. Accompanying the small keyboard on the tabletop were textbooks and scattered papers. An essay on pride, huh? The boy smiled slightly.

The computer monitor currently read:

In the short story, "The Scarlet Ibis" by James Hurst, the narrator and Doodle both attest that "pride … bears two vines" in their actions concerning one another (318). First of all, the unnamed narrator shows his pride in himself in forcing his brother to accomplish the impossible; this leads his sibling to gain valuable knowledge while annihilating Doodle. Moreover, Doodle places his vanity in his brother, believing him to be infallible; this spurs on his own strength to please his brother, but ultimately guides himself down the path of immolation. Thus, these conceited and pride-driven characters work towards the bloody inevitable growth and death that awaits them under the red nightshade bush.

He had molded and crafted this piece for an hour and it was to no avail, he was not finished. He leaned back in the desk chair. Pride: such a topic that was dear to him, yet, today, his mind did not yield any insight. Frustrated, he began to type.

To begin, the anonymous narrator is filled with arrogance that leads him to kill his brother.

He paused. There was neither elegance nor honesty in these words. He hit the backspace button for a moment or two before allowing his pale fingers dance across the black keys in an intricate tango once more.

To begin, the anonymous narrator is filled with a vanity that leads him to destroy one of his own blood, as he encourages his brother to hope and do the unattainable.

Cobalt eyes diverged from their concentration on the bright computer screen to the worn Quincy glove that sat on the pearl white shelf adjacent to the desk.

'Why don't we have a competition, Kurosaki? I'll make you understand which of us is superior and that shinigami are unnecessary in this world.' (1)

Such foolish words back then. Words that were a spawn of mislead hatred and the blossom of friendship. Yes, perhaps it was not the unattainable as it was for Doodle but he was the one who encouraged Kurosaki into this competition: one that almost ended both of their lives.

Spirit energy spewed forth in visible streams from Kurosaki's body, consuming him and leaving him writhing in the pain that he could only feel. Kurosaki had just saved him from a Menos Grande, something that he had begun. Kurosaki had defeated something so advanced with a knowledge so elementary. Yet, now, he could only scream in the burden. (2)

Yes, words and the competition he had initiated had led to much more.

'Quincy pride…' he had said to the captain. The thought was so prevalent in his mind as he tore the patterned white and blue glove from him, completing what would be his death. Immediately, his clothes changed into that akin to armor. The surrounding buildings began to crumble into spirit shards that fed the manifesting energy in and around him, giving an ethereal glow of angel's wings. There was nothing more to him. He was going to die to the Quincy with this last shot to savor the Quincy pride that he had sworn to his grandfather. (3)

Quincy pride bore vines of life and death. They were so closely entwined with one another that they were inseparable, so close that the truths and lies became blurred in one great gray. A grim smile marked his pale face as he returned to the forgotten task ahead of him.

In the end, it took a death for the narrator to realize his pride, but Kurosaki and ojiisan did that before he broke. Perhaps he could save another before her prideful love shattered her to pieces. The tapping of keys resounded through the evening.

…

The boy wandered in the darkness in which he had sunk. Suddenly a rope ladder appeared before him.

'Oi, climb up!' an annoying voice yelled down to him. The boy looked up, allowing blue to meet amber, black to view orange. The boy above smiled and held out a hand to him.

Suddenly, the boy stood in front of the crying girl he had left before. He smiled and held out his hand.

'I'm not going anywhere without you.'

…

tsuzuku

AN: Sorry for not updating sooner! Thank you for all of you who are reading. I never thought this story could go this far.I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please RxR!

Below are some citations before I really do get sued.

Hurst, James. "The Scarlet Ibis." Elements of Literature: Third Course. Ed. John Legget, et al. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston: A Harcourt Education Company, 2003. 314-323.

(1) – Thank you to Lunar Anime subs for this. This is the conversation between Ishida and Ichigo in episode 11. Please excuse me for any mistakes. I was originally going to use the manga translation for this scene but I couldn't find the file so I resorted to the anime.

(2) – This is a summary of what happened after the battle between the Menos Grande and Kurosaki in the anime (episode ?); sorry if its different in the manga; I read that chapter at least two years ago so I really don't remember

(3) – Summary of the episode where Ishida fights the twelfth squad captain

Correct me if any of the details are wrong. I haven't read through these chapters in a very long time. Gomenesai!

Thank you to:

NobleAngel015

shelena

Greentea

Hiiragi Demon

Teh Squee-Chan

silver miracles

The Cheshire Katt

No One