Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Knowing ❯ Knowing ( One-Shot )
[ A - All Readers ]
By: micherie 
it's raining, and inoue herself, wants to be nearer to ichigo...will she succeed?
Anime/Manga: Bleach Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.13.2007 | Updated On: 06.13.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 817 | Visits: 472 | Status: Completed
it's raining, and inoue herself, wants to be nearer to ichigo...will she succeed?
Anime/Manga: Bleach Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.13.2007 | Updated On: 06.13.2007 | Pages: 2 | Words: 817 | Visits: 472 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I do not own bleach. Tite Kubo does. Therefore, I am not Tite Kubo. Lolz. Logic.
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Raining again. She didn’t know the reason why Ichigo sometimes disliked the rain. She didn’t know the reason behind those feelings whenever she sees him look past the window and into the nothingness beyond, veiled by the rain. She, Orihime Inoue, who had always loved him.
She remembers the days whenever she found his face funny because it was always set in a scowl. Remembers whenever the scowl deepened when he was set on doing something. Determined. His face would change, his lips pulled lower, purses, those eyebrows would furrow deeper and he would say something she always found so chivalric. Those days. Those days when she found herself falling in-love with him.
She was intelligent enough. She should have used her brains then.
She should have known.
Dinner was always the most anticipated event of her days now. She would prepare dinner with the finesse and veneer she always had with weird concoctions. She would mix this and that until it looked good enough to eat. But sometimes she could not stop herself from thinking as she looked at the vast array of ingredients she always had at hand.
She should have known.
There would be a conversation while eating. She would take the lead with her usual cheerfulness and he would comment on this and that. They would talk about his job, his day, her day, the weather…but never about the feelings.
She should have known.
Once,
…a long silence passed between, the unanswered question echoing itself in her ears, a question she had put off long enough, ‘Ichigo, do you love me?’
…his scowl deepens, and then softens as he probably thinks of the right reply, maybe he is still thinking of her whenever that question was asked…
And then his lips would be stretched to a fond smile, but she could clearly see the answers in his sad eyes, ‘what have she done?’, she thinks.
“You’re the best wife, Orihime-san.”
That is the best answer he can only give to her.
Orihime-san, he still called her that way. They were husband and wife and he couldn’t call her by her first name.
She calls him by her first name. They call each other by their first names. It hurts. But she still loves him.
The rain pours harder outside. Raindrops slamming against the windowpanes loudly. Her eyes stray to look at him.
He barely flinches at the sounds of the rain, but his scowl, no, his face, had grown darker.
But what memories does he have of the rain?
She hesitates to ask. Afraid to hurt him. She nevertheless opens her mouth and the question crosses the room. She barely hears it.
“I…I have sad memories of the rain, Inoue-san.”
Inoue-san. If it was not Orihime-san, it would be Inoue-san. Was this pain the price of calling him…hers? But he was not hers. He had never given her that part of him she always longed to call her own.
Sad memories. What are they to make you hate rain so much Ichigo?
She puts on a cheerful voice as she simply said,
“You could always talk to me Ichigo.”
That familiar look of sadness and…and longing, appears in his scowling face. He does not answer, but simply nods his head as he tells her not to worry about him. But she worries, she worries that she had done something wrong. That she herself was not enough for someone like him. She understands him, but she does not know the right way to get to him.
She gets a sinking feeling in her stomach. She simply had no idea what to do to cheer him up.
How come it was always for her to bring himself back from pieces again? ‘Kuchiki-san, please tell me.’
It was useless to ask anyway, it hurts, but she thinks that she never would know the reasons why.
And the answer to her question.
It hurts.
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Review. Please.
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Raining again. She didn’t know the reason why Ichigo sometimes disliked the rain. She didn’t know the reason behind those feelings whenever she sees him look past the window and into the nothingness beyond, veiled by the rain. She, Orihime Inoue, who had always loved him.
She remembers the days whenever she found his face funny because it was always set in a scowl. Remembers whenever the scowl deepened when he was set on doing something. Determined. His face would change, his lips pulled lower, purses, those eyebrows would furrow deeper and he would say something she always found so chivalric. Those days. Those days when she found herself falling in-love with him.
She was intelligent enough. She should have used her brains then.
She should have known.
Dinner was always the most anticipated event of her days now. She would prepare dinner with the finesse and veneer she always had with weird concoctions. She would mix this and that until it looked good enough to eat. But sometimes she could not stop herself from thinking as she looked at the vast array of ingredients she always had at hand.
She should have known.
There would be a conversation while eating. She would take the lead with her usual cheerfulness and he would comment on this and that. They would talk about his job, his day, her day, the weather…but never about the feelings.
She should have known.
Once,
…a long silence passed between, the unanswered question echoing itself in her ears, a question she had put off long enough, ‘Ichigo, do you love me?’
…his scowl deepens, and then softens as he probably thinks of the right reply, maybe he is still thinking of her whenever that question was asked…
And then his lips would be stretched to a fond smile, but she could clearly see the answers in his sad eyes, ‘what have she done?’, she thinks.
“You’re the best wife, Orihime-san.”
That is the best answer he can only give to her.
Orihime-san, he still called her that way. They were husband and wife and he couldn’t call her by her first name.
She calls him by her first name. They call each other by their first names. It hurts. But she still loves him.
The rain pours harder outside. Raindrops slamming against the windowpanes loudly. Her eyes stray to look at him.
He barely flinches at the sounds of the rain, but his scowl, no, his face, had grown darker.
But what memories does he have of the rain?
She hesitates to ask. Afraid to hurt him. She nevertheless opens her mouth and the question crosses the room. She barely hears it.
“I…I have sad memories of the rain, Inoue-san.”
Inoue-san. If it was not Orihime-san, it would be Inoue-san. Was this pain the price of calling him…hers? But he was not hers. He had never given her that part of him she always longed to call her own.
Sad memories. What are they to make you hate rain so much Ichigo?
She puts on a cheerful voice as she simply said,
“You could always talk to me Ichigo.”
That familiar look of sadness and…and longing, appears in his scowling face. He does not answer, but simply nods his head as he tells her not to worry about him. But she worries, she worries that she had done something wrong. That she herself was not enough for someone like him. She understands him, but she does not know the right way to get to him.
She gets a sinking feeling in her stomach. She simply had no idea what to do to cheer him up.
How come it was always for her to bring himself back from pieces again? ‘Kuchiki-san, please tell me.’
It was useless to ask anyway, it hurts, but she thinks that she never would know the reasons why.
And the answer to her question.
It hurts.
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Review. Please.