Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Cupid Shot the Messenger ❯ One ( Chapter 1 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Title: Cupid Shot the Messenger
Disclaimer: So sue me.
Rating: PG [ K+ ] – for fluff and a few suggestive comments by a pack of hormonal teenage
wolves – I mean, girls.
Spoilers: Nope. If you find any, go ahead and flame me about it.
Note: Dialogue within parenthesis ("Dialogue") indicate conversation apart from the primary
scene.

Summary: "It's settled, then," Mahana brought her closed fist into her open palm decidedly and
turned to Michiru. "Write a love letter to Ishida-kun for Orihime-chan to give him." One-sided
IshiHime. [One-shot. Pre-Soul Society. Pre-Ishida intro.]


...Is it really sad that my new glasses look like Ishida's?


— — —



"Ishida-kun?" Mahana stopped in the middle of her lunch, chopsticks still clamped
between her teeth, and focused her astounded attention on her meek, blushing friend. She wasn't
alone; four other pairs of eyes of varying hues were also attached to her face in curiosity. Only
one set was diverted, feeling only apathy for the conversation.

"Y-yeah," the faint pink stain on Michiru's cheeks spread slowly across her face, like
white paper absorbing strawberry kool-aid.

Mahana sucked on her chopsticks thoughtfully. "Isn't he the chubby one who sits in the
far right corner? The one with the wooly sideburns?"

"No, he's – "

"Nah," Tatsuki negated, swallowing hard to clear her mouth of obstruction. "He's the guy
on the kendo team. The really, really tall one in class four." She raised her hand far above her
head for emphasis.

"Ishida-kun isn't – "

Chizuru dove into the conversation herself, pausing her attempts at feeding Orihime from
her own chopsticks. "Wait, I thought he was the second year with the green hair and nipple
piercing's."

"Would you listen to me?!" Michiru hastily waved her hands in effort to halt the
escalation. If the conversation would have gone any further, the girls probably would have turned
him into a bisexual delinquent fresh out of juvenile lockup for hosting an underage orgy party
(complete with alcohol, drugs and a pile of stolen merchandise from a high-end fetish shop).
"He's not chubby, freakishly tall OR pierced in any weird places!"


"Shame," Mahana giggled, leaning in conspiratorially to Rukia. "I hear that second year is
pierced in a ‘special' place..."

True to her nature, Michiru's nose spurted blood at the very thought of a mans "special
place."

Rukia, falling prey to one of her socially inept moments, only blinked at the suggestion.
"Special?"

Clapping a hand on her shoulder, Tatsuki reassured her, "You don't want to know what
she means. Trust me."

Michiru cursed her fate that she and Mahana had already entertained this conversation
more than a year ago. Since then, she hadn't been the same anymore...she even made a practice
of separating her male plushies from her female plushies these days.

"Ishida-kun is in our class," Michiru explained with as much composure as her delicate
constitution would allow her. The misdirection of blood from her vital organs to her face – and,
most recently, out her nose – was beginning to wreck havoc on her internal systems.

"I still don't know who you're talking about," Mahana was thinking aloud again. "I don't
remember an Ishida-kun in our class."

"W-well," Michiru dipped her head to shield her red face from her friends, muffling her
already quiet voice in her knees. "Ishida-kun is pretty quiet. He sits in the back of the class and
doesn't really talk to anyone..."

"If he never talks to anyone, how did you get a crush on him?"

The flush in Michiru's cheeks intensified from her classmates direct intrusion into her
private concerns. "I-it's not like he can't talk, or anything...besides, he can be really nice. H-he
fixes my plushies for me when they tear."

Mahana's chopsticks dropped from her lips and fell to the grass as her jaw slackened
from shock. "Wait...you mean Ishida Uria-kun? The nerd with the glasses?"

"I thought he was gay," Tatsuki announced without ceremony. "I mean, the dude is a
little...well, wussy."

"H-he's not gay!" Michiru was instantly offended on behalf of Ishida-kun and her own
taste in men. "Sure, he's really into fashion, and doesn't ever talk to girls, and really likes to sew
and bake and collect thimbles, but that doesn't mean he's GAY!"

The circle of girls leveled a startled look at Michiru, who was now on her feet in defense
of her beloved Ishida-kun. Her entire face, including her ears, were aflame with blush and her
fists clenched in defense of her crush's honor.

"And his name is Uryuu, not Uria!" She added as an afterthought.

"That's right!" Orihime jumped in on Ishida's defense. The group shifted their attention
to the new speaker. "Ishida-kun never smiles, so he can't be gay!"

There was a long stretch of silence, penetrated only by the hum of other students in the
courtyard gossiping back and forth about the outburst.

Michiru sank to the ground slowly, aware of more eyes on her than those of her own
small group. "H-he's in the crafts club...," she continued in the fashion of ‘it never happened.'

"Um...," Mahana took the hint and ran with it, turning to the most unconcerned and
carefree member of the troupe with a wavering smile. "Orihime-chan, aren't you part of the
crafts club?"

"Yep!" she chirped, causing her gigantic bosom to bounce a little.

Mahana nearly sighed in relief; good, a way to get this conversation back on track. "What
do you know about Ishida-kun?"

Orihime put her finger to her chin and gazed thoughtfully into the green canopy of leaves
above them, considering the question. "Umm...not much. He's really good at sewing. Oh! And he
can bake, too. He let me try one of his marshmallow and garlic cookies once, they were
REALLY good!"

"Marshmallow and...and garlic?"

"Yeah," she affirmed with one of her unconcerned smiles. "Oh! They had butterscotch
chips in them, too."

"Ah...okay," Mahana processed the unnecessary information, even if she didn't think it
would ever come in handy again. "Do you know anything else about him?"

"Hmm...," Orihime took up her "thinking pose" again as she concentrated extra hard on
all the things she knew about Ishida Uryuu. "He really likes fashion, I think. I see him reading
Vogue all the time. Oh! And he makes doll clothes for all the girls in club to test out his designs.
One time, he made my little Finkletinkle a fairy costume with bells and sequins and this really
neat belt and – "

"Okay, okay, we get it. The man likes to sew. Anything else?" Tatsuki cut off her friends
off-topic rambling before she got too carried away with herself.

The girls waited patiently through Orihime's thinking routine again as she pondered all
the odds and ends of information she had gathered about Ishida Uryuu-kun. As the silence
stretched on, each one of the girls – even those with no vested interest in the topic – felt
themselves inching closer and closer to the edge of their impassive interest as their curiosity
begged to be satiated with Orihime's answer. Every eye was focused on the princess with the
auburn locks, desperate for her to come to her inevitable conclusion...

Unfortunately, the "Ishida-kun information pool," – which was pretty shallow to begin
with – was officially empty.

"Nope!" Orihime proclaimed with her general overly enthusiastic joy.

The circle of friends all crashed to the ground simultaneously as the tension was broken
abruptly, leaving an unbalanced backlash.

Orihime continued to bask in the radiance of her own smile, entirely unconcerned with
the situation.

"Y-you don't know anything else...?" Michiru whined.

"Why should she?" Chizuru leapt to her self-proclaimed lovers' defense, enveloping
Orihime in her arms as she cradled the befuddled girl against her bosom. "You don't need to
know about smelly little boys, do you, Hime-chan?" the bespectacled lesbian cooed, stroking
Orihime's hair affectionately.

Snatching Orihime away from Chizuru's fondling grasp, Tatsuki growled, "Got that right!
She's got enough shameless FEMALE friends to worry about!"

"Shameless?" Chiziru held a distraught hand to her heart. "Why, Tatsuki-chan, I'm hurt! I
won't take you to a love motel if you continue to say such hurtful things..."

"Who wants to go?!"

Mahana coughed delicately into her closed fist, disengaging herself from the argument –
which threatened to break into violence at any moment – and recalled their initial conversation.
"So, you don't know anything else about Ishida-kun? From what it sounds like, he, like,
practically lives in the crafts club."

"Yeah, but he's usually in the back of the classroom working on something. I don't think
he's ever spoken to anyone in the club except me because I asked for one of his cookies. He
didn't want to share at first – he said that he'd messed them up, but I thought they tasted great –
but I snatched one and ate it anyway. They tasted like mint – or was it peanut butter? – and had
the perfect amount of black stuff on the bottom..."

"So you have talked to him before?" Mahana cut off Orihime's offbeat rambling again.

"Yep!" Orihime agreed. "Only once, though."

"Would you be willing to talk to him again?"

"Yep!" A smile bloomed on the carrot top's face, nearly glistening in the mid-afternoon
sunlight. "Ishida-kun is such a nice person."

"It's settled, then," Mahana brought her closed fist into her open palm decidedly and
turned to Michiru. "Write a love letter to Ishida-kun for Orihime-chan to give him."

"B-but I c-couldn't do that! What if he says no? What if he laughs?"

"Ishida-kun won't laugh," Orihime assured her meek friend with utmost solemnity. "I'm
pretty sure he doesn't know how."

"W-well, he could still say no...," Michiru whimpered fretfully.

"There's only one way to find out!" Mahana chirped, clapping her paling friend on the
back. "So, who has a pen?"

— — —

Orihime stumbled into her club meeting, crashing headlong into a desk with excess
momentum. "Oww...," she moaned, rubbing a swelling bump on her forehead tenderly. She
threw an abused glance over her shoulder to Mahana, who was motioning in the doorway.

"Give it to him!" she mouthed silently, gesturing within the classroom. Michiru was half-
hidden by the doorframe, sandwiched between it and Mahana's more developed body, darting her
restless eyes about the room. She cupped a hand around the side of her mouth and whispered
something to Mahana that Orihime couldn't make out.

"Orihime-san...are you alright?"

"Hm?" Orihime's flighty attention was drawn to her left and a concerned male club
member, who hovered anxiously by her shoulder. "Aa...I'm fine, Takahashi-senpai." [1]

("Are you sure, Michiru?")

The third year officer placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, turning her gently to face
him. "Are you sure, Orihime-san? Should I go see if the nurse is still here?"

Orihime waved away the idea with her hands. "No! That's fine, Takahashi-senpai. Really,
it's just a bump."

("Y-yeah...I don't see him anywhere...")

The boy leaned in (all the better to observe her injury, of course) until his nose very
nearly touched her own. "Are you...positive?" he whispered softly, reaching up and brushing
Orihime's bangs away from her forehead with a feathers touch, moving the silken strands away
from her swelling blemish.

("Was he absent today?")

Orihime remained perfectly still – and perfectly confused – as Takahashi's smooth
fingertips began tracing her jaw line after tucking the apricot fringe behind her ear. His short,
strong digits fell away from her chin one-by-one, leaving only his index finger holding her face in
position.

("No, he was in homeroom this morning...oh! E-excuse me...")

The secretary inhaled deeply and wet his lips, allowing his eyes to drift clo –

Orihime squealed as Takahashi's face was unexpectedly – and forcefully – removed from
her personal space.

"Save your fornication for another time, Takahashi-san," a smooth voice chilled with
disapproval interrupted. "You're blocking the aisle."

Ishida Uryuu – poised with his bulging school bag in attack mode – stared down his
senior club member with frozen indifference.

"Ishida-kun," Orihime chirped, bowing to her classmate. "Good afternoon."

Ishida bowed likewise, "Good afternoon, Inoue-san." He stood over his fallen officer,
glaring, and offered sentiments to him as well, "Takahashi-san."

("THAT's him?" Mahana dropped her incredulous gaze to her romantically forlorn
friend. "THAT's the guy you like?"

"Yeah...that's him," Michiru sweat-dropped, torn between shock and embarrassment.)

"Yeah...hi, Ishida," Takahashi replied, nursing his own lump on the back of his skull.

Obligatory greetings exchanged, Ishida took his leave of the pair in search of a more quiet
corner of the classroom.

"Ano...," Orihime blinked at his retreating back, at a loss from the abrupt brush off.
‘Ishida-kun is such a mystery,' her mind – always filled to the brim with eccentric and downright
odd subject matter – whispered, as if the secrecy of the thought was classified even within her
own head.

She watched the lone wolf sweep down the center aisle of desks without offering
anymore polite small-talk to anyone else in the room. Instead, Ishida sat down and got straight to
work, wasting no more of his precious moments on the frivolities of socialization. His hands
moved with expert care on and through the fabric allotted to him by the club officers, crafting
and perfecting almost as a diabolical genius might craft and perfect his plans for world
domination: with the utmost attention to detail. The powdery-blue material was only half-formed
into its eventual result but was already recognizable as part of some ensemble, indicated by the
quarter-length sleeves and sloping hemline around the top.

‘Fascinating,' Orihime decided, was the only word for Ishida Uryuu. (Well,
"misanthropic" and "fastidious" would have worked too, she supposed.) He was, overall,
unpleasant to associate with, rarely approved of anything, and couldn't seem to properly function
within society, and yet he created such optimistic pieces so as to make one wonder if he was
really all he claimed to be. After all, if there wasn't even a single adornment of lace on one of his
projects, it was a club-wide debacle over the impending doom of the world (because, surely, the
lack of frills on a masterpiece of Ishida's was a sign of the forthcoming apocalypse).

With that look of concentration on his face, that sheer determination to recreate the world
in his own image of perfection, and yet an outwardly dark, pessimistic view of what humanity
really was, Orihime had to wonder what, exactly, made Ishida into the brooding character he
wanted to appear to be. Did he want to believe, but just couldn't? Did he expect to be
disappointed just so he could be pleasantly surprised when something turned out for the best? Or
did he hide behind that veil of hopeless darkness in hopes of diverting the attention of those who
might hurt him? Whatever it was that kept him voluntarily trapped within his world of shadow,
his dark hair – so useful as a physical barrier – was his first line of defense in avoiding
mankind...

‘Onii-san...'

Orihime felt as if she had been shot in the chest as the correlation between Ishida and her
own memories became clear. Clamping a startled hand to her throbbing bosom, she considered
the very real likeness between Ishida and her dearly departed brother, who left this world
unsatisfied with what he saw. Sora had protected his sister from many of the harsh realities of
their existence, thereby distracting himself from the overwhelming gloom of humanity, but...did
Ishida have anyone to protect?

Orihime didn't know, had never gotten the chance or the courage to ask, but perhaps
Ishida didn't have anyone to –

"Orihime-san," The ever-preoccupied schoolgirl jumped as a hand descended upon her
shoulder, forcing a sudden leap back into reality. "I think I will go see if the nurse is still on
campus after all...," a voice – cracking with pubescent development – announced. "Would you
like to come with me?"

Orhime's heart danced to an erratic beat within her throat, "Huh?" she glanced up to find
Takahashi leaning over – and on – her, still swaying precariously on his unsteady feet. He held a
hand to the back of his scalp and his eyes swam in their sockets. The well-endowed teenaged girl
forced her lips into forming a dilapidated smile, "Oh! No thank you, Takahashi-senpai. I'm fine."

Takahashi pulled his hand away from his injury; good, no blood. "You're sure?"

"Y-yes...I'm sure. Thank you." Orhime's heart just wouldn't stop fluttering; was the
shock to her system really so severe?

She took a small peek at Ishida. The pace of her heartbeat spiked.

"All right...see you later," Takahashi waved goodbye with his left hand, clutching the
back of his cranium once again with his right, as he stumbled out of the classroom. (If he had
caused any actual brain damage, Ishida doubted that anyone would really notice.)

Orihime flexed her fingers in a small gesture of farewell, her smile twitching for release.

The girls in the doorway moved out of Takahashi's way as he wobbled past, leaping away
from him as if head injuries were contagious. He rubbed his tender scalp with a more pained-
than-necessary groan and Miharu began chewing on her already bloodied fingernails.

"Psst!"

Orihime focused her gaze on the doorway where the two girls hovered, despite being in
everyone's way. Mahana was gesturing wildly again, hissing in exasperation,
"Give...it...to...him!"

"Huh?" and then Orihime remembered. "Oh! Right...," the letter. To punish herself for
her temporary state of amnesia, she bonked herself in the head with the heel of her hand (and
then instantly regretted it).

Rubbing her newly-tender bump, Orihime looked around the nearly-empty club meeting.
The rest of the small group – ten members in all, including Orihime and the often absent Ishida –
was clustered around the blackboard as the president demonstrated a cross-stitching technique
with chalk. None paid any heed to the back of the classroom where Ishida sat, sewing all by his
lonesome.

This was as good an opportunity as any, she supposed with an odd tingle in her chest.

Squirming her way down the narrowed aisle that separated her from Ishida, Orihime
reached into her skirt pocket, fingering the thin pink envelope left to her charge. What if Ishida
accepted Michiru's loving invitation? Would that make them a couple? If he did agree to date
Michiru, Ishida wouldn't be lonely anymore...that was good for him, right?

Orihime's lunch roiled within her stomach, suddenly unsettled by the burning in her
chest.

She stood next to Ishida's desk for longer than might be deemed appropriate without
conversation, but the oblivious craftsman made no complaint of her proximity. Orihime didn't
know why she felt so unexpectedly...disturbed at the prospect of fulfilling her favor to Michiru,
but it held her back from broaching the subject with Ishida all the same.

After a deep, steadying breath, the sharply curved girl took her first tentative stab at
calling attention to the matter at hand, "Ano...Ishida-kun?"

The "Super Sewing Queen" (as dubbed by Takahashi) halted his needle in mid-stitch, but
didn't look up. He seemed to be debating with himself whether or not the distraction was worth
his time. After nearly a full minute of waiting, however, Ishida seemed resigned to his fate and
rolled his eyes up to look at Orihime over his spectacles. "Can I help you, Inoue-san?"

"Um...," the severe expression deep within his azure eyes gave Orihime pause. Ishida
waited with outward patience, but the darkening hue of his cornea belayed an agitation for the
extended disruption. "I...w-wanted to...," she stammered uncertainly as her heart got stuck in her
throat. "I m-mean, um..."

"If you're going to thank me, please don't bother," he said, broaching the assumed subject
for her, if only to speed this little interruption along. "There's no need to thank me for something
you could have easily done yourself."

He began to drop his eyes back to his project – believing the matter resolved – but
Orihime grabbed his reluctant attention again, "No!" he was so startled by her sudden outburst
that he stabbed himself with his needle. The buxom princess flushed, "T-that wasn't what I
wanted to talk to you about...um...here," she pulled the letter out of her pocket and placed it atop
the pastel blue material he was crafting. "This is for you."

To say that Ishida was surprised would have been an understatement; he was astonished.
The fragrant letter – bound in an envelope of the most horrid pink imaginable – was decorated in
little hearts and flying dwarfs brandishing archery paraphernalia of romantic theme. His name
was written in uneven calligraphy across the center, unrefined and haphazardly scribbled.

Orihime couldn't decipher his expression, but she didn't think he'd be willing to explain
it to her. Was that flattery she saw twisted into his frown? Or was he about to be sick...?

As much as she valued Ishida's health and safety, she hoped his inclination wasn't for the
former.

With her mission accomplished, there was nothing more to be done but to leave Ishida
alone with his hand-delivered mail. "Um...well, I guess I'll let you get back to your work. Have a
good day, Ishida-kun."

As she made her way back down the cramped aisle, Orihime turned to look at Ishida one
last time. He was still frozen in time and staring at the letter in a way that could have been
interpreted as almost any brand of emotion.

Definitely a mystery, Orihime sighed, leaving behind the object of her pondering.

"Did you give it to him?" Mahana demanded as her overly-developed friend approached
the doorway, dancing from foot-to-foot with badly contained anxiety. She pushed again when
Orihime didn't answer instantaneously, "WELL?"

"Yeah, I gave it to him," Orihime forced a grin. She couldn't help but feel a little mixed
about Ishida's reaction to the letter, one way or the other. Was it so wrong of her to wish – deep,
deep down inside, way behind her spleen in the dark area where no one ever looked – a bad
reception of Michiru's fond partiality for Ishida? She hoped not.

Mahana grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, "What did he say? Come on,
Orihime-chan, spill!"

"Um...well, he didn't really say anything..."

Mahana stomped her foot in frustration as the pitch of her voice began to rise. "He had to
have said SOMETHING!"

"Mahana-chan!" Michiru pleaded, leaning over to glance through the classroom door.
"Keep your voice down!"

"You want to know as much as I do!"

"Yeah, but if you don't lower your voice, Ishida-kun will – "

"I don't care if he does hear!" the usually jubilant girl with short, wild hair exploded, her
exasperation getting the better of her composure. "That high-and-mighty bastard needs to say
SOMETHING! I mean, what kind of straight guy doesn't respond to a girl when she professes her
undying lo – "

"Ahem," the singularly motivated argument was interrupted with a demure cough.
"Excuse me."

Orihime – heart already beating inconsistently beneath her breast – was the only member
of the gossiping trio that didn't jump at the intrusion on their conversation. She turned slowly as
her two companions jumped in fright, finding a stoic Ishida standing an arms-length behind her.

"Ishida-kun...," she whispered, forcing her smile into more brilliancy. Her friends
cowered in the background, ashamed of being caught. "Was there something you needed?"

Ishida – with his face downcast, hiding his eyes behind the glare of his glasses – thrust
out his hand to her without preemptive ceremony. "I...have come to return this."

Orihime looked down to his proffered hand and found Michiru's letter, unopened.

"Ahem," Ishida coughed again into his closed fist, pointedly keeping his face averted.
"I...appreciate the gesture, Inoue-san, but I cannot accept your...feelings."

Orihime's erratic heartbeat evened out to a steady, numb vibration as the rejection meant
for Michiru was misdirected to the messenger instead. She replaced the hand over her left breast,
grasping at the already straining material of her shirt harshly, as if putting pressure against a
gaping wound. With the other, she accepted the letter on her own and her friend's behalf.

"I haven't the time for a g-g-girlfriend...I apologize," he declared, covering the rising
color to his cheeks with the hand readjusting his glasses. "I hope your f-feelings for me will be of
short duration."

"Aa..th-thank you, Ishida-kun," she squeezed her eyes shut in a smile, forcing
unanticipated tears back behind her eyelids. "I understand. Sorry for the trouble."

"Good day, Inoue-san," Ishida bowed stiffly and turned without any further commentary
on the situation. He disappeared through the cleared doorway, bringing resolution to the
encounter.

"H-have a good day...," her words trailed away without recipient. "Ishida-kun."

With her final gesture of goodwill, Orihime hoped that this wouldn't be their last farewell
when all was said and done.

"Tch, what a JERK!" Mahana screeched at the top of her lungs; Orihime, caught up in the
somber moment, jumped. "He didn't even bother to open the damned letter!"

"Ano...Mahana-chan, it's really no big deal," Michiru placed a soothing hand on her arm,
despite being obviously shaken by the rejection herself. He hadn't been merely dismissing
Orihime, he had turned down even the prospect of female companionship in general, making it
likely that another attempt by someone else would also be thwarted. "I didn't like him that
much anyway..."

"Good!" the excitable girl snorted, crossing her arms in defense of both her friends. "I'm
telling you, he's GAY! If he turned down Orihime-chan – of ALL the girls in the ENTIRE school
– he's obviously batting for the other team!" she fumed in righteous indignation. "Hell, he's
probably pitching, playing first base, and acting as water boy, too!"

"M-maybe..."

"Which means you shouldn't take it personal either, Orihime-chan," Mahana continued
her rant shamelessly, looping an arm around her well-rounded friends neck. "He's just a cold,
GAY prick. Not worth fretting your pretty-little-head about."

Orihime didn't respond, eyes glued to the spot Ishida had been standing in when he
returned the letter to it's assumed owner. Her friends – caught up in their Ishida-centric bantering
– didn't notice the ink on Michiru's letter trickling away, caught in the stream of salt and
disappointment of a heartbroken girl.


— — —


Foot Notes:

[1] I didn't really think about it in "A Queer Question," but Orihime was actually addressing
"Takahashi-kun" incorrectly. Since, at the start of the series, the primary group of characters are
all first years (or freshmen) and Takahashi (Jiro) is a second year, she should have shown
deference to him by referring to him as "senpai." It's just a respectful way to defer to a senior
student, co-worker, etc. when you share the same basic position within a school/company. In this
instance, they are both students but, as Takahashi is the elder, he should be called "senpai" by
younger students. (Meanwhile, Ishida – who seems to feel contempt for Takahashi – sticks to the
generic "san" suffix which would be used to implicate a non-personal, yet equal, relationship.)

Still, I suppose it would be possible for Orihime to start referring to Takahashi by "kun" if their
relationship were to escalate beyond mere acquaintance over time. If you were to put these two
stories on a time line (even if they aren't really correlated with one another), then this could work
out since "A Queer Question" occurs after this story (as implicated by her closer relationship to
Ishida, which only occurs post-Ishida intro in the series).

But, then again, I could just be stretching it to make myself feel better about doing something
stupid...^^;

— — —

Authors Notes: Okay, the fact that this file type doesn't let me italicize or embolden anything
REALLY pisses me off, so you'll hafta bear with me on the intonation of certain words. I've
gone back to capitalize most of what was originally italicized, but some stuff just doesn't
translate between the two scripts well. If you'd like to see the original version with all the proper
accentuation, go to my profile (same penname) on www.fanfiction.net where I can post using my
usual file type. Geeze...how f****d up...*mutters darkly*

Anyway...I didn't really expect so much angst in the end. I don't know if Orihime
is OOC b/c she suddenly found herself "in love" (well, more like "crushing on") with Ishida, but
I figure the connection between Ishida and her brother would at least bring up sympathy pangs
for him. She's pretty tender-hearted, so I didn't think it would be too off the wall....Well, my next
story should be far more upbeat, all the way through. I think I'm better at humor than angst,
anyway.

I do gotta wonder at my own preoccupation with characters believing Ishida to be gay, though. I
guess it seems so "obvious" for a boy with no romantic inclinations to speak of to be simply
uninterested in girls. The way I see it, Ishida-kun simply has more pressing matters than
Valentine's day to worry about.

And, yeah, I recycled my own OC. He seems pretty handy in a pinch, doesn't he? I do feel a little
bad for (Takahashi) Jiro-kun, though, b/c he always seems to end up my literary punching
bag...well, at least he has meaning in his life (however short and limited it is).

Again, (constructive) criticism on characterization would be much appreciated. If you notice
anything else wrong with my story then, of course...keep it to yourself :-P Just kidding. All
constructive comments are appreciated.

Geeze, I really do talk too much...


.:ObscureAnimeWriter:.

– Every nerd has his day. With Inoue Orihime, Ishida Uruyu will have an entire afterlife.