…
…
When she was a child, she'd always wondered where her older brother would run off to. In the castle, it was lonely and there weren't many people to speak with besides the maids and butlers. She always thrived on her sibling's spirit and small, handsome smiles and glowing, dark eyes. If he wasn't there, she wasn't sure what she would do. As her mother and father didn't pay her any mind and she was forced to be proper and beautiful as the princess of Japan. There wasn't much she was able to do, and being only eight, she hadn't seen outside of the palace's walls.
She hated being alone. Honestly, the only thing the small redhead enjoyed was reading the thousands of books in the palace's library and gazing out the massive window in her rosy bedroom, counting the beautiful birds whirling past and finding shapes in the fluffy clouds. She couldn't bother her father, for he was too busy and her mother was usually shouting at her, as though she were deaf or a mouse.
So she didn't enjoy being lonely, roaming through the giant home, wishing to venture over the tall fortress outside. Past the gardens and the colorful fish and through the dew and between the trees until she came to the great wall, hoping to catch even a sound from outside the Kingdom, but she never found anything, only red dragon flies and broken dreams.
"Onii-chan!"
The young man jerked, surprised, and turned, eyes widening when they spotted the smaller girl standing in her white sleeping gown and bare feet, along with her long russet hair falling down her back and shoulders. Her large honey eyes stared at him and her small lips parted, her gaze darting from the ajar, front wooden doors to the white, full moon flooding light into the castle's floors.
"Are you leaving again?" Her small voice made his chest ache.
Slowly, he gave her that vague smile, "Yes. But only for a moment. Wait for me in the morning."
She blinked her large eyes, "You shall be back when the sun breaches the sky?"
He resisted the urge to crumble in front of his younger sister, his world, "I will try. And bring the raspberry pastries you love so much."
Instantly, her face lit up in a precious smile and her eyes shimmered, "R-Really? I'm glad."
Nodding, he patted her head gently, "Be safe, Orihime."
"Hai," She nodded, continuing to smile. He turned away once more, creaking the door open wider before she called, "Onii-chan," he looked back towards her, "Ganbatte."
His eyes stung harshly before he nodded again, turning his face away, "Yes. Arigato,"
And she watched as her brother stepped from the doors.
…
…
"Well," the nurse said as she removed her slender hand from the princess's forehead and turned back towards the Queen, "It seems she has a fever."
"Useless," the Queen remarked, scowling heavily now as she placed her hands on her narrow waist. Returning her attention to her daughter, she spat, "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Taking in a deep breath, she spoke with great difficulty, "I-Is…Onii-chan back yet?"
The mother rolled her eyes in annoyance, "No. He's in a lot of trouble when he returns though. He shouldn't leave the palace so much, he knows that."
"…" Orihime breathed out deeply, her cheeks flaming and unable to breathe under her nose. She couldn't move this way, and her tiny body ached, "…He's not back…"
"No," her mother snapped, "Get some rest. You'll need it." Orihime watched her mother leave the room, leaving Orihime and the curious nurse in the room alone. The door slammed behind her and Orihime clutched tighter at the blankets.
"Ne, Nurse-san?" Orihime whispered to the lady. She noticed she had long hair that was tied back and fair skin that went well with her full, plump lips and hazel eyes. The woman glanced down at the bedridden princess.
"Hai?" She answered pleasantly, eyes glowing with kindness.
Orihime merely blinked slowly in reply, "What is your name?"
"Masaki. Kurosaki Masaki."
…
…
When she woke again, it was dark outside. The Kingdom was quiet and the moon stood her home, large and blinding, much like the sun. Orihime, without thinking, threw the blankets off her stiff, tiny form.
She had heard something, and she wasn't sure what it was, but it was something. A low thud, maybe something fell, or perhaps she was just imagining things. But it had definitely come from Onii-chan's room. So she stood on the nice, hardwood floor and padded across, pushing open her grand, dark door, only to see the empty, black hallway. She wasn't afraid; there were guards everywhere. Tiptoeing carefully, she was able to press her small hand against the wall, searching for her brother's door.
There.
She stepped inside, the lump under the blankets, and then paused.
Squish.
Her bare foot hit something wet and sticky. She gasped and shakily looked down, eyes finding the dark crimson liquid. Her nose curled in disgust, unable to comprehend what exactly it was. Her toes curled and she keenly listened to the revolting, squelching noise. Slowly, her eyes found the dark, dark sky and the howling winds.
And then her gaze snapped to her brother's bed, the body form under the blankets, and she whispered, "Onii-ch—"
His head.
Detached from the body, but eyes closed and peaceful, as if he'd accepted his fate.
Orihime's lips parted and shook.
"O-Onii…Onii…"
"Ojou-sama," a maid called softly, and her eyes fell upon the slaughtered son, the young girl standing in his spreading blood. She gasped sharply, and grabbed a hold of the Princess's shoulders, "P-Please, look away—"
Orihime's tiny hands lifted to her face, and her eyes widened with horror as her nails bit into her cheeks.
"No!"
The maid's mouth fell open.
"Onii-chan!"
Her wails cut through the frosted air, and the maid swore she saw a smile playing around Sora-sama's lips.
…
…
Darkness.
That's how it was for a while. It was strange. In Orihime's world, it was always sunshine and beauty and magical blue men that would take you on a journey with sweets and laughs. But this was not.
Her dreams all consisted of a dark, dreary place, no life, no happiness, no sun or clouds, just a gloomy sky with a bland moon that loomed over the sandy grounds. She disliked dreaming of this place, for she would just walk and walk and never find a destination.
It hurt.
Her eyes were wide open now. Wide open to the world and its cruelty. Her sanity was on the breaking point by time she reached twelve and her heart was breaking in two from the reality-check. Onii-chan wasn't there to make it all better, and the life didn't return to her eyes for a very long time.
Most of the time, she sat in her room, alone, staring at the sky, eyes blank of any emotion. She would twirl the sapphire, hibiscus jewels in her small fingers, spinning them round and round. She remembered when she first achieved these, a day after her brother's death.
"Here," her mother had thrown them to her feet, "Take them. They were for you."
They were expensive, she was sure. Made out of a pure gem and she could only wonder where her brother had attained them. Mother had called him a fool for dying this way, and her father ignored it, as always. The Kingdom didn't make an uproar, in fact, she was sure no one knew of her brother's demise.
So what was she supposed to learn now? What was the lesson? How would she be stronger from this?
Every time she came up with these questions, she figured out an answer.
Nothing.
…
…
"Princess,"
Orihime turned her head, the long, amber locks flying around her.
"E-Eh? Tatsuki-san…"
Truth be told, there stood the maid, lean, strong body under frilly clothing. Her dark eyes were wary, and she appeared uncomfortable in the green, beautiful garden. Orihime was standing there, in her best pink dress that brushed against the grass. Her short sleeves were puffed and exposed her slim shoulders. White gloves went up to her upper arms and covered her small hands. Of course, as any other dress, it was tight against her curves.
Orihime had grown even more beautiful as she grew. Now at nineteen, she was easily the most gorgeous woman Tatsuki had ever seen. Her hair went past her waist, a fine, golden-russet that flowed down her back, and thick and smooth to the touch. Her assets were of a woman's, full and curvy, but she would also be rendered delicate with her small, soft hands and feet. Her skin was like velvet; ivory with a hint of rose in her plush lips and cheeks. Wide amber eyes – thick lashes surrounding – ate up her pretty, pretty face.
She was too beautiful for her own good, and sometimes, maids and butlers had trouble staring at her too long. But between her bountiful breasts were the same clips that would remain until the day she died, perhaps longer.
"The Queen would like to speak with you."
…
…
"Do you understand?"
"…"
"Do you, Orihime?"
"…no."
"Pardon?"
"No!"
Startled, the Queen of Japan stared hard at her daughter. The young woman's hands were shaking by her sides and her delicate shoulders hunched inwards. Bright honey eyes met the cold stare of her mother's.
"I-I can't marry him."
"You will."
"No! I will not, Mother. I do not know this man."
"He is the Prince of Spain. It will put peace between our countries and aid our Kingdom. Don't be so selfish. Think of others, will you."
"No…You cannot—"
Slap!
Orihime's head whipped to the side and her wide eyes stung harshly almost instantly. Her mother stood in front of her, her chest heaving, gaze narrowed dangerously.
"I am sick and tired of your insolence. You will no longer do what you please in my palace. As my daughter, you will marry Prince Ulquiorra-sama, and you will give him everything."
Silence.
"Do you understand, Orihime?"
"…H-Hai…"
Instantly, the gentle, doting mother was back, smoothing down her daughter's red, fine hair, "There, there. Do not cry. You will make an excellent bride," she tilted the young woman's chin up, and smirked, "I'll make sure of it."
Turning away, the Queen brushed down her dark crimson skirts, "You will meet him tomorrow morning, and have breakfast. Later, tomorrow night, we will finally show you to the Kingdom. It's time to see what you have grown into, alright?"
"…Hai."
"Good girl. Make your preparations. Arisawa!"
"Yes, Mistress?"
"Please resume taking my daughter to her room. Make sure she bathes thoroughly and sleeps early. Tomorrow is a big day, after all."
…
…
"You mustn't disobey her, Orihime." Tatsuki whispered to her royal friend. They had always been friends. Even though Orihime wasn't allowed to speak with the maid in public, they continued to converse on their own times. "You will not win."
"Tatsuki-san," the redhead whispered. She was in the expensive tub, steam rising around the two as Tatsuki continued to scrub Orihime's body clean. As she raised the bucket of water over her Princess's head, she paused when her name was called.
"Yes?"
"I'm leaving," the princess replied softly.
The bucket fell to the floor.
Slowly, Orihime turned to face the pale maid, "I need your help, please."
She started to shake her head, "M-Miss…please, you can't ask that of me—"
"As a friend," Orihime murmured, "I'm not asking, I am begging you. I will not marry a stranger, and there are still things I must do in this Kingdom."
"Orihime," the black-haired shook her head once more, "You're speaking nonsense. There is nothing here—"
"I made a promise to someone," she clutched at the charms around her neck, "and I plan to keep it."
…
…
Perhaps the kimono was a bad idea. After all, it stood out. The color of fresh roses and a green bow around the waist. She wasn't able to move very fast in it and the material cinched around her thighs, hips, and breasts, drawing out attention from the opposite and same sex.
But to Orihime, she wasn't paying attention to any of this, any of the looks and stares and grins. In front of her was the Kingdom. She had never been outside of the Palace's walls, and never seen so many faces at once. Stands were decorated in every color and obviously took hard work to build. She could see animals and children laughing with their mothers, babies carried on backs, and men hurrying to work.
It was all so magnificent.
Hurrying forward, she came across a large stand where a man yelled and hollered, giving away fruits and vegetables to anyone who had enough money to buy. Orihime, of course, had left everything behind, even her clothing and money. Nothing was of importance of her. Everyone was so lively, skin was shone by children and giggles ran through the air as they followed their mothers, begging for more food than normal. Orihime had a hard time masking her smile.
Bop.
Glancing down with her wide eyes, she found that a green apple had hit her sandal softly. Slowly, she reached down and looked up to see a small, young boy standing across from her, his dark eyes glinting in his tanned face. Orihime smiled, and he was startled for a few seconds as she held it out, offering it to him, and he brought out his palm, only for her to drop it in the tiny hand. She walked past him the next moment, her dainty hand ruffling his hair gently as she went.
Orihime's heart fluttered in her chest. She had met someone new, but that wasn't all. Some people glanced at her twice, some in disdain and others in astonishment. She was at knowledge they didn't know who she was, especially due to the circumstances. The day went by fast, mostly of her 'ooing' and 'aaahing', but she couldn't blame herself. No wonder Onii-chan would leave the palace all the time. It was magnificent.
But her fantastic day ended all too soon.
Standing beside a stand, she heard a couple of hard steps.
"Did you hear? The Princess went missing last night. The guards are out and about. Be careful what you say…"
Orihime's eyes widened. She should've known someone would come looking for her. Quickly, she scurried around a building, lifted up the hanging door, and hurried her way inside. Stumbling backwards, she bumped into a hard chest. A pair of hands grabbed her upper arms roughly.
"Huh? Are you a waitress?"
Orihime gasped at the touch, growing frigid as she hurried to pull herself from his grip. She whirled around to face him, and saw his face. It was an unkind face and not very handsome with full-fish lips and a hard, bugging stare, dark hair falling into his red, angered face. Orihime took a couple steps back, only for him to tangle his big hand in her long hair, tugging on a few strands.
"Oh," he mused with a gleeful smile, dragging his eyes over her face. Orihime's heart tripled in speed, "Look at this boys. Ya know, normally women don't wear their hair so freely. Would make a pretty penny, don'cha think?"
At a table towards the back, three men stood, one placing a hand on their sword, and leered, "Forget the hair. Look at her."
Orihime took in a quick breath and yanked away from the man's grip, probably pulling out a few strands. She turned, prepared to run, only to run into another chest. This man was taller than the others, but his grin was just as wide as he placed a hand on her shoulders. The other guy behind her grasped her delicate wrist and took in a deep inhale.
Adrenaline kicked into her being and her eyes widened as her heart thundered. How had a day turn so wrong? To Orihime – being in the palace all her life – she had never experience something like this, never been manhandled like this.
What was…?
"How about you get a bit more comfortable?" The larger one asked, grinning fiercly now.
Orihime's lips shook.
"Don'cha get it?" The other crowed, tightening his hand around her frail wrist, "We're yakuza. If you wanna live, I'd say you do as we order."
Something akin to frustration pooled in her stomach, tightening her muscles as she yanked her wrist away from his disgusting touch. "I will not."
"HUH?" He drawled.
"What was that?" Another asked, and Orihime heard the distinct sound of metal slicing through the air.
Taking a few steps back, she found herself cornered between three men, one with a sword, the other two leering ferociously as the tip of the blade was placed at her throat. Orihime swallowed, and sweat beaded onto her body as they leaned forward fully prepared to take what they wanted. The cooks and waitresses in the back were unable to move, frozen in fear of the gang.
Heart…stop going so fast…
Just then, another round of footsteps came through the door. A brush of fabric and Orihime's eyes widened.
…Orange?
Yes. She was not imagining things again. His hair was, indeed, orange. She wasn't sure how he achieved to get it that way, but she was very much intrigued with the color, even though she wasn't in the predicament to think at that very moment. The next thing she noticed about him was the sense of power around his tall form. He was much taller than her, and most of the men, and he oozed a sense of raw masculinity and force. He didn't seem like the one that would ask questions and then proceed to fight.
Slowly, he snapped his gaze, and suddenly, his eyes were on hers. She gasped sharply, and her heart went even faster than before. His gaze was of the dirt, fresh and fertilized, the kind her grandmother used to use to plant beautiful flowers, or the rare sweets that her father used to keep in his study, chocolate, she thought they were called. But these eyes were not sweet in any way. They were hard, and piercing hers viciously, and her chest hurt, and she was afraid she had stared too long. His amber-colored eyes were too vivid, and they were almost frightening in their intensity. Thick lashes made his eyelids heavy, as if he were sleep, and a scowl was firmly etched onto his face, menacing and hard. He was also intensely handsome, a handsome face under thick, peculiar hair.
Then, as if they hadn't shared that exchange, he rose his large hand, and said, "Yo."
The men all paused from leering at the shivering princess and turned slowly to see the orange-haired make his way to the side of the small hut. He sat down, and Orihime saw him place down his sword, long and sleek and black, like the night. As soon as he sat, another from the back of the table stood, and grinned.
"If it isn't Kurosaki…" He growled, "What brings you here?"
Kurosaki – she was guessing that was his name – didn't even bat an eyelash. Lazily, he lolled his head around to face the man that had drawn his sword.
"…That girl," he murmured a second later. His voice was deep and low, something Orihime had never heard before. He turned his head back to glance at the girl, "Does she work here?"
The man sputtered, "How should I know?"
"Because if she does," Kurosaki continued, "I would like to order."
"Sorry," the tall one over her spoke this time, she she'd failed to notice that his hand had moved to his sword, and his thumb poked it from the sheath, "This one is all ours."
Kurosaki crooked a brow, "Is that so?"
Growling furiously, the big one over her yanked out his sword, and she ducked in time before he could take off her head.
And it all went into chaos.
There was a scream, and she was unsure if it was hers. Her amber hair fell down to her waist again and she watched as the group lunged for the orange-haired. Orihime's eyes grew as he sat there, eyes closed, before a wide, almost frightening grin broke his face.
"Tch," he murmured the next second as the first got close enough. If she'd blinked, she would've missed it.
There was a drop of blood, more than she would've liked, and it spread before the man fell, a gushing gash in his stomach. Kurosaki slowly stood as the others froze, his black blade now dripping with crimson. He stood with a careless grace that made her afraid to run, or even speak. He was confident in his movements, and, for some odd reason, Orihime was in awe of this.
His grin widened, stretching his face, and the violence danced in his eyes behind orange, thick locks, "C'mon," he said to the men, "I don't have all day."
Orihime's eyes grew larger as they roared and rushed forward, blood sweeping against the walls, splattering onto the floors, and crushing the room in its thick, red liquid. Orihime's heart wouldn't stop beating so fast, she couldn't comprehend where exactly it was, either in her throat or stomach, she wasn't sure. Finally, it was over and she watched with shock as the last man hit the floor. She wasn't very frightened, she'd seen worst, and they were groaning on the floor.
Her knees shook when she saw the orange-haired man in black was the last warrior standing. Slowly, he swung out his blade to remove the blood from his sword and then slid it behind his back. When his eyes met hers once again, she stumbled a few steps back, as another grin swept across his handsome face.
Locks of orange fell across his forehead as he placed a foot on the gaping wound in one's stomach. The man hollered in agony and flailed as Kurosaki continued to grin, "Don't forget to tip your waitress."
He removed his foot and leaned down to grab up the dumpling stick from one of their plates. Orihime froze as he walked towards her and then their shoulders brushed before he was gone, the door slipping behind him.
Pink lips trembling, she whispered, "Onii-chan…is he the one?"
…
…
Yay~! New story. Anyway, I didn't really think this through until I imagined Orihime as some kind of princess. Yes, she is a princess, but I never really thought of her as one, ya know? In this story, I don't think Orihime is going to be so naïve, nor ditzy as some might put it. I want my character in this story to be kind-hearted, but witty and beautiful, but damaged. She isn't the normal 'Orihime' or canon.
Anyway, please review. I'd like to know what you think of Ichigo. I've never written him this way before, and he frightens me a bit, even though my heart is racing.
-Star