Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Princess of Death ❯ The Lost Soul PART 2 ( Chapter 8 )

Date written: 21/05/09 - 05/06/09

Posted on FanFiction: 12/06/09

Posted on MediaMiner: 22/08/09

A/N: A few of the things I'd like to point out was the strangeness in this particular portion of the Bleach series. The anime did not mention anything about Kon being specialized with his legs (unlike the manga; I learned about this from there). And also, how did Ichigo learn that Kon kissed Tatsuki and Orihime in the series? He wasn't present there when it was done, and I could understand if he thought Tatsuki was kissed since he may have overheard Tatsuki and Kon's little conversation before she continued throwing more of those chairs at him. And that put my muse into a pondering mood and I left it to her on what to do. Writing an embarrassed Ichigo was hard, but maybe worth it. Enjoy, everyone.

--- CHAPTER 8 ---

The Lost Soul

PART 2

Ichigo did not like this day. Apart from the usual shinigami duties he would have to do anywhere and anytime (Once, he had to cut classes for this job; he'd been sent to the faculty office when he got back), he also needed to put up with a certain raven-haired girl's high demands in how he handles each new Hollow coming. He got the job done, didn't he, so why must she bitch about the proper procedures?

Ichigo would never really know because Rukia would either not answer or punch him and then not answer. He knew this because he had already asked her before.

But that wasn't really the reason why he deemed this day as one he loathed. The actual reason was because his freakin' body was stolen, and he could put all the blame on little old Rukia Kuchiki for it. He was mad, no doubt about that, and he was hoping that this day wouldn't get any worse.

A thought then occurred and he immediately tore down those hopes of his. That Mod Soul, as Rukia called that guy, was in his body, so whatever things that Mod Soul will do, people will undoubtedly point at him. If by chance that the guy in his body would start kissing girls outside the school, they would label Ichigo as the pervert. And that didn't go well with his irritation and also his reputation.

He wondered if Rukia had enough of those memory modifiers to level the whole city.

“We lost him,” Rukia announced as they entered the last spot they've seen the Mod Soul enter which was an abandoned warehouse.

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Miss Marple,” Ichigo growled. “Man, where the hell did he . . . I go?”

“That's an ironic fallacy. And who is this `Miss Marple'?”

“This is not the time for your incomprehensible jokes. We gotta stop me, I mean him!”

“Though we do need to keep the pace and find the Mod Soul inhabiting your physical body, there is no need to be so snappy towards me.” Rukia crossed her arms. “Why are you so agitated anyway?”

“Apart from the fact that my body just got stolen,” Ichigo said with sarcasm, “that freak also did something in the classroom that caused Tatsuki to throw tables and chairs at me, uh, him.” This was getting confusing. “And trust me, it takes a lot for someone like Tatsuki to get really mad and start hauling school property without caring about the consequences.”

“Tatsuki-chan was very mad,” Orihime said, standing next to Rukia.

“Yeah,” Ichigo said. “And just thinking about what that creep did to Tatsuki—”

Ichigo stopped. He looked at Rukia, then turned his head a little to the right. Black robes. Orange hair. Gray eyes. Big brea—uh, ignore that last one. Reality hit him like a ton of bricks, and he immediately pointed an accusing finger at the newcomer.

“I—I—Inoue!” Ichigo exclaimed.

“Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Miss Marple,” Rukia said, a little smile tugging her lips as if she thought what Ichigo said earlier was one of the modern bits of sarcasm he would usually snap at the raven-haired girl. But saying that to him wasn't sarcasm but rather ignorant stupidity. Miss Marple was a fictional character who was an old maid as well as a detective. It fitted Rukia's image of being old (over a century old is most definitely considered old) and unmarried. Saying that line to him did not fit the proper point of sarcasm. But he was digressing from the main concern of the situation.

Ignoring his inner ramblings, he said to Orihime, “What are you doing here?”

“I came to help,” she replied.

“What did Rukia and I say about shinigami business?”

“This is different, Kurosaki-kun. I want to help you, can't you see that?”

He did see, and that worried him.

“I have control over myself this time,” Orihime explained. “I can help. I really can.”

Ichigo glanced at Rukia, asking nonverbally for some support, but said girl was thinking over something and completely missed his eyes turning her way. “Maybe you can,” Rukia said to Orihime, her arms crossed and that trademark serious expression etched on her face.

Ichigo did not believe his ears. “Wha—?”

“What happened in the classroom, Inoue-san?” Rukia asked. Oh, so that's what she meant by help. Ichigo wouldn't admit it, but he was also curious about what happened inside that classroom and what the Mod Soul creep did to Tatsuki that got her in such a murderous mood.

Curiosity killed the cat, though.

“Eh? Uh, well . . . that is . . .” Orihime stammered between her words, blushing like a strawberry.

“What did he do?” Ichigo asked. He knew that the face he was showing was one of mortification. And he had a reason to. For Orihime to stutter and get all vague about the event inside Class 1-3 was no understatement. The blush was not lost to him, and if he could take a guess—a guess that was horrible and embarrassing to even think about—he would say that the Mod Soul must have ki—

“He k—kissed Tatsuki and m—me.”

Ichigo shivered involuntarily. The bombshell within her simple, five-word sentence was enough to shut down most of his brain's functions, leaving behind the torturous echoes—He kissed Tatsuki and me . . . kissed Tatsuki and me . . . Tatsuki and me . . . kissed Tatsuki and me . . . He kissed . . . me . . .—for him to receive and contemplate with a temporarily nullified head. If he had felt mortified then, it would pale in comparison to what he was feeling now.

“So Ichigo kissed you and Tatsuki,” Rukia said.

Another cold shiver slithered on his back while the blood flooded his cheeks. “Don't say that again! It's embarrassing.”

“I don't really see the problem, Ichigo. A kiss is a kiss, after all. What is so wrong and embarrassing about that? From the books I've read to freshen up my modern Japanese, the characters in there were doing more vulgar things like—”

“Those are fiction books, dammit! And what the heck kind of books were you reading, anyway?!” Ichigo felt really embarrassed now. The thought of whatever books Rukia had read just made him more mortified than ever. He grabbed his head with both hands and roughly ruffled his hair in frustration. “Goddammit, the image I tried so hard to build up in school is now ruined.”

“Image?” Orihime repeated.

“This guy . . . has an image?” Rukia asked, sounding bewildered.

He could ignore one voice of bewilderment, but two was already pushing it. So he said to the two girls, “Yes, an image. I was going for the cool guy who has no interest in forming romantic relationships—”

“So you're going for the hard-to-get guy,” Rukia mused. Ichigo decided to ignore her, figuring she must've gotten that statement from her obscene fiction books.

“—but now that image is ruined. Everyone will think I'm some . . . some . . . kissing maniac or . . . or a wild playboy.” He thought of his dad and the things he had told Ichigo about his adventures during his teenage years. He had usually wondered what his mother saw in the guy. And Ichigo did not want to be thought of like his dad. No way, Jose.

“I don't think of you as that, Kurosaki-kun.” Orihime walked closer to him and took both of his hands off of his head. She held them gently like fragile glass. “I already knew that it wasn't you after you kissed my hand.”

Ichigo sighed slowly in relief. At least it wasn't a full-on make out session. That would surely agitate him and personally bring down the wrath of Hell towards that Mod Soul. It wasn't because Ichigo didn't want to kiss Orihime, but because he wanted to be the one doing the ki—wait . . . what?

He banished the thought immediately. Banished it to oblivion if he had to. But the contact between their hands, along with his earlier thoughts, was making him uncomfortable now. He just hoped he wasn't blushing. “Uh, Inoue . . .”

She looked at their joined hands, blushed again, and moved her hands away from his as if she had been burned. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled, prodding her two forefingers together with her head looking down.

Wanting to change the subject, or rather away from their awkward parting, Ichigo said to Rukia, “You said that Gikongan in my body was a Mod Soul. What are Mod Souls anyway?”

“Mod Souls are products created from the now defunct Project Spearhead,” Rukia explained, catching Ichigo's and Orihime's attentions. “The scientists in the Research and Development Institute have upgraded the use of the Gikongan in a beneficial way for us shinigami.” She took out her trademark sketchbook and some writing and coloring materials, and laid them all out on an old, dust-covered crate that was the height of a kitchen table. She drew while talking, and Ichigo suddenly had a sinking feeling. “To generalize the several phases for the project to come into fruition, it just basically means that the Mod Soul is specifically created to inhabit human corpses.”

“C—corpses?” Orihime gasped.

“Correct. By ingesting a Mod Soul pill into an empty physical shell—in this case, a corpse—the soul inside the pill inhabits it. But that is not the important part.” Rukia finished her drawing and presented it to them.

Ichigo was now looking at another childish doodle (He refuses to call them illustrations). The doodle was divided into quarters by a cross, occupying the rectangular sketchbook equally in their respective places like four smaller rectangles forming a bigger rectangle. The upper left section was the first Ichigo looked at. It had the picture of a bear with X's for eyes lying on the ground. Above the bear was another bear but it had the stereotypical ghost tail that signified it as a newly departed soul. There was a chain hanging from the second bear's chest, showing further proof to what he concluded.

“The Mod Soul uses corpses of people who have recently died,” Rukia continued. “Long-dead vessels have been considered but denied. Decomposition damages the efficiency of the Mod Souls, so the people in Spearhead suggested using fresh corpses. Of course, finding and stealing them from morgues already caused a problem for the higher officials of Soul Society since they believe it might cause problems with the balance shinigami have sworn to uphold.”

Rukia pointed to the next drawing, which was the one to the first's right. This doodle also had a bear on the left side lying on the ground. But the difference between this one and the one in the first doodle was the lack of a soul leaving from within it. Instead of a leaving soul, there was actually an entering soul. To the right of the bear was an arrow pointing further to the right, and just beside the arrowhead was another bear. This one looked alive and well, flexing its mountain-sized muscles with the words `Mod Soul in new body' written under it in bold and underlined letterings.

Ichigo's right eye was twitching.

Rukia continued, “What a Mod Soul does which is different than any normal Gikongan is that it enhances a specific aspect of the empty vessel that is helpful in eradicating Hollows for us shinigami.”

Rukia pointed to the next one (the one on the lower left). The doodle had a lot of bears—around a baker's dozen, perhaps—doing different things. One was wearing glasses and reading a Quantum Physics book (How does Quantum Physic help in Hollow eradication, anyway? his thoughts mused) while another was lifting a barbell weighing a ton with only one hand. One other bear, Ichigo noticed, was wearing a chef's hat and cooking something flat and brown in a frying pan—it even has a mustache with spiral ends. What's that going to do, poison the Hollows to death?

Ichigo was using all of his willpower and self-control to say nothing at all.

Rukia said, “It can be enhanced brain power, superhuman strength, super speed, a special talent that only one particular Mod Soul possesses, or even enhancing one specific human body part to the point of inhuman. And it seems the Mod Soul inside Ichigo's body is of the latter. It has enhanced leg strength.” She pointed at a bear at the bottom of the third doodle. It had a spiral for legs as if it was running very fast in an old cartoonish way.

“I see, I see,” Orihime uttered, nodding her head vigorously. “So we're dealing with a super-legged person.”

“You catch on quick, Inoue-san.”

The nasty comment was almost out of his mouth before he was able to hold down his tongue. One thought floated in his mind which gave his self-control a bigger push in keeping his sarcasm at bay. He thought he didn't want to diss Orihime just because she had better luck in understanding Rukia's childish doodles than he was. He couldn't care less about Rukia's drawings anyway, especially when they were drawn as if by a four-year-old even though the actual artist was already over a century old.

Rukia then pointed to the last drawing, which consisted of two bears and two bunnies. One bear and one bunny were wearing black clothing with stick swords (the bear had it strapped on its back, while the bunny had it strapped on her waist). Both of them, along with the other bunny, were surrounding the other bear, forming a triangle with the other bear as the center. The other bear had a sad face while the rest had happy faces.

Ichigo saw it, understood it (somehow), and now wanted to really comment after Rukia fully explains this last doodle. But to preserve what was left of his sanity (and prevent a beating from Rukia, which might be worth it if he could release his cynical but currently tightlipped mouth), he tuned out her explanation, only catching tidbits about how Orihime, Rukia, and he would surround the Mod Soul; he could be the distraction, Orihime could pin down the target, and Rukia could execute the final blow of ejecting the pill from his body. There were more technical issues she had discussed about with Orihime, but he couldn't wait anymore. The longer they take their time not searching, the harder it will be for them to finally find his body. Plus, it was a good way to avoid uttering the many snide comments he had thought up.

“You two,” he said as Rukia was talking about Orihime's chokehold. Rukia had an annoyed face for being interrupted but didn't voice it. To save time as well as his own ears from the argument he might eventually end up in with the raven-haired shinigami if he didn't pick the right words to say in this situation, he pointed towards the exit of the warehouse and said, “We'll plan along the way. Right now we have to start searching.”

Both Orihime and Rukia nodded; the latter didn't look like she was about to argue, so he was relieved for now. But if Ichigo had the chance to say out loud what he thought at the time, it would be this:

“I really hate this day.”

“Oh how I love this day!” the Mod Soul shouted as he took another leap into the air. That wasn't strange in itself except that his leaping height was ten times higher than the average jumper. He looked around him and, to his great amusement, saw people stopping midstride and gawking at him. Actually gawking at how cool he was! His stunt was definite eye-catcher material. He should be on television for the whole world to see his superior coolness.

He leaped up again and landed onto metal railings on the rooftop of a low building. Losing his balance from the narrow footing, he swung his arms outward to regain his coordination. Then began leaping again. Today was surely a great day for him.

After being cooped inside a pill for who-knows-how-long, he was glad that he'd been given the chance to smell the air, feel the rushing wind in his face, the control of an actual body. Nothing would ever beat that last one! This was a very precious moment and he was planning on keeping this state of bliss for as long as he could. Though he knew that it was not all fun and games once those shinigami bastards found him in their search. He's only good with his legs, and he could beat a normal person without feeling threatened at all. But to confront a shinigami head-on was arrogant and suicidal. It was only pure luck that he had escaped their clutches—that human chick was good with her arms, and he was convinced now that those `twins' of hers were natural. He loves it natural and XXL.

But still, he needed to be careful when putting attention to himself, especially in a busy area. That was why he was leaping around the residential area than downtown. The district was home to many people but not as much as the people right now in downtown. If there were a few things drilled into his mind back when he was still being created in Project Spearhead, one of them would have to be about human economics. Today was a school day; in other words, the regular 9-to-5 work day. Most of the Karakura-branch companies were built in downtown, according to the information he'd been given. So suffice to say, he tended to avoid that part of town until he was completely in the clear and out of those shinigami's radar. He needed to lay low . . . but what was the harm in having a bit of fun first?

He was closing in on an elementary school by the time he was done with his inner musing. Deciding that he should take a short break, he skipped over the railing and headed to a secluded area next to the school's quadrangle. Physical Education was in session and the rest of the quad was crowded with little kids in their PE uniforms. He really wished he was actually next to a high school quadrangle while that subject was being taught. Teen girls in short bloomers were irresistible for him. And how their `twins' jumping around in their playpen as the high school girls jog around the track were definite eye candy.

But as he landed on the storage building's roof, he realized that the place he chose wasn't void of kids at all. There were three of them, all boys, playing with what looked like those handheld devices that were in the new in the Human World. The toys were called PSP from what he gathered by an ad in a billboard he passed. The kids were also wearing PE uniforms and it didn't take a genius to understand why these three kids were there.

“Skipping classes,” he murmured, shaking his head.

“Damn!” one of the three kids—the one with the glasses—cursed.

“Haha. Lost again?” the kid with the shaved head questioned rhetorically. “Tough luck, Kenta.”

“It's not me who lost, it's this damn character! He won't move the way I wanted him to move.” Kenta looked livid. Definitely hot-headed, in the Mod Soul's opinion. “Why won't you follow my orders correctly, you crummy piece of garbage?!” Kenta yelled at his PSP.

“Yelling at it won't make it obedient,” the third kid, one with slit-shaped eyes, commented, then went back to playing with his own PSP.

“Ah screw this! I'll just delete him.”

The Mod Soul shivered when the kid said those words. Anger was rising. His fists slowly clenched; his teeth grinded.

“They're worthless now. Time for deletion.”

“But you've already made it to level 10!” the bald kid announced. “You're going to start all over if you delete `em.”

“So what? I've done it before, so I can do it again. And besides, if this character won't listen to what I order him to do, then he's nothing more than worthless trash.”

“Aren't you taking this a little too seriously?”

“Am not!” He shook his PSP a bit, making sure to swing it at each word he was about to say. “I created him, so it's up to me if I want him gone!”

“You don't like our decision, you say? Then tell it to someone who actually cares. Wecreated you, so it's up to usif we want you terminated.”

The Mod Soul's fists were shaking. A low growl exited his feral look, like a dog warning a trespasser that it was crossing its territory.

“So say goodbye, Useless.” Kenta sneered at the PSP screen. “It's been nice knowing ya.” He pressed a few buttons and then looked smug.

“You actually deleted him,” the slit-eye kid muttered in disbelief, but the Mod Soul heard it.

“It only took me four days to get to level 10,” Kenta said in a dismissive tone, already beginning to forget about the now deleted character in his video game. “They're replaceable, after all. If you're not happy with one character, you can always delete it and make a new and better one. That's the best way for—”

The Mod Soul landed four feet away from the three kids. They all looked surprised by his entrance, but he didn't care about that. He was angry. Enraged. All because of this . . . this human kid talking about replaceable characters.

A creator has the right to destroy its own creation?

He didn't like that. He didn't like that one bit. And he was sure to drill this into Kenta's head even if it means hurting him in the process.

The kids were slowly backing away from him as they saw the rage masking the expression on his face. He approached them as he growled.

The trio searched the city for around fifty minutes until they made their way to the local park. They were all panting and sweating after their nonstop search. Rukia and Ichigo were dealing better with the exertion than Orihime was. Though she did have some martial arts training, it was mostly work on her upper body rather than her lower. And her stamina wasn't always that great. Her feet were sore; they felt like lead every time she lifted one off the ground. But the pain was only a null ache compared to how difficult it was for her to breathe. It was if her lungs were rejecting the air she tried to inhale and sending it out through forced coughs and long exhalations until the twin organs will look nothing more than two prunes. She tried breathing through her mouth but it only helped a little.

When Rukia announced that they should take a slight breather before continuing, Orihime quickly obliged to her suggestion and unceremoniously slumped over to the edge of the fountain located at the center of the park. She took in deep breaths while looking straight up. Tatsuki told her that it was bad to lower her head while her body cooled down from a hasty exertion. She vaguely wondered if that rule applied to soul's as well.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Ichigo and Rukia talking animatedly in their usual arguments and jabs. Orihime couldn't really understand what exactly they were saying since she was too busy with her short-of-breath state, so she instead listened to the sporadic flow of her breathing until it slowed down into a more rhythmical pace. They didn't look the least bit fatigued. Winded, maybe, but not fatigued. She saw Ichigo shoot occasional glances at her direction as he continued his conversation with Rukia.

Orihime wanted to ask about that, but her throat felt dry. And it was not just because of exhaustion—even as a soul, she could feel sweat coursing down from between her shoulder blades to her midback. Why was she hesitating? She only needed to inquire about Ichigo's less-than-subtle glances, after all. But maybe she already knew the answer to that question before she even thought of asking him.

He's keeping his guard on me, she thought grimly. Ichigo was wary of her. It was that simple. As long as he thought Orihime was a threat to them with that unknown alter-ego of hers, he would still keep an eye on her. It hurt to be closely guarded as if she was a ticking time bomb waiting to blow up at a moment's notice. She was positive she had full control over her soul that there shouldn't be any walls crossing between them. Orihime was already excluded from shinigami duties by Rukia and Ichigo because of unknown consequences if she stayed in her shinigami form for too long. Now she was being excluded from getting any closer to Ichigo while they were doing this job. Both of them weren't even letting her join in on the conversation they were having.

I'm the third wheel. They act like I don't exist to help at all.

Orihime fought back the tears. She couldn't cry. She mustn't cry. It was a symbol of weakness and concession. She had been through this before, and she had been able to keep a straight face on until she had returned to the safety of the four walls in her home and had cried everything out. She never showed that side of her except when she was alone. She never bottled her emotions up and stowed them away in a corner. She would always let them out, but only when she was alone. When Sora had been alive, it had been always in his arms that she'd cry out her troubles, and he'd listen without saying a word until she had finished releasing it all. But now she had to stop the tears. It was not the time to submerge herself into depression. Not when Rukia and Ichigo were there.

She sniffed lightly and inaudibly. Her left hand rose to the apex of her left eye and wiped the lone tear that hadn't fallen. Looking back at her two companions, Orihime tried her best to halt the progress of her emotions in overtaking her calm. But they were slowly building, and soon it would overflow the dam she had set up. She needed to reinforce it.

“Are you okay, Inoue?” Ichigo asked, interrupting her from reinforcing that imaginary dam in her heart. She saw wariness in his posture, as if expecting her to jump off from the fountain, draw out her sword, and start attacking them.

Orihime felt the urge to do just that—Come on, princess! You know you want to—but for only a moment before squashing it mercilessly and banish it away from anywhere near the forefront of her mind. Guilt came to her from even thinking that horrible thought.

From the outside, she nodded at Ichigo and said, “I'm fine.”

Ichigo stared at her.

“A little tired, but fine. Really.”

Ichigo closed his eyes and turned away. He looked disappointed.

Orihime caught that look and suddenly realized that he might've seen right through her lie. But why did he look disappointed? Wasn't he the one shutting her out, keeping his guard on her? What did Ichigo really want from her?

Beeping sounded off from Rukia's pocket, where she dug out her cell phone and opened it. Her look resembled mild irritation and she swore under her breath, but it was still loud enough for both Orihime and Ichigo to hear. “We've got orders,” Rukia said.

“Now?” Ichigo asked, looking as irritated as Rukia, who nodded at his inquiry. “Damn! Of all the times for a Hollow . . .” He trailed off, looked at the fountain, and heaved a heavy sigh. He turned back at Rukia with a deeper scowl. “Where?”

“It's close,” Rukia answered, consulting the map on her cell phone. “100 jou south from here.”

“100 what?”

“100 jou is equivalent to over 300 yards,” Orihime explained. “It's the old Japanese measurement system.”

“You're one freakin' old hag, you know that?” Ichigo said to Rukia, who bashed him in the head because of that remark.

“Let's just go,” Rukia replied and ran towards south. Orihime and Ichigo soon followed after her.

The Mod Soul approached the three kids but only one of them was in his long Hate List. His target was shaking severely that his glasses were stumbling down the bridge of his nose.

“So you think that you can get away from terminating what you created, huh?” he said with bursting vehemence.

Kenta whimpered.

“Here's a lesson in life I've recently picked up on,” he continued. “Men create monsters. And it's in the monster's nature . . . to kill the men who created him.”

The kids looked like they didn't understand where he was going with the conversation, but he chose to ignore it. They wouldn't understand anyway no matter how hard he'd try to make them. What he should focus on was the lesson. Yes, the lesson.

“Now,” he lifted his right foot, “who wants to play soccer, three-on-one?”

The kids took two steps back from him, whimpering louder. They didn't even dare to answer him.

“All right, let's make it two-on-one.” He glared directly at Kenta while smiling sadistically. “One of you gets to be the ball we'll kick around the field.”

He lifted his right foot higher than his head and then pushed it down like the falling blade of a guillotine, straight towards Kenta's face. He braced his foot for the impact, while debating whether he should lessen his blow more so as to be double sure he wouldn't crack the kid's skull open. Too late, though. He felt the impact as dust clouds formed around Kenta.

Crap, he applied too much.

He was about to lift his foot hastily back up when he felt two hands grab his ankle and shin. The dust clouds dispersed, and the Mod Soul instantly saw black and orange in his field of vision.

“I was expecting a Hollow,” he heard a very familiar voice drawl out in the disappearing dust clouds, “but finding you about to hurt three kids must be God's ironic humor. Tell me, aren't Mod Souls protectors of humans? Have you gone so low that you've greeted Satan with a friendly wave?”

The dust clouds were gone. Standing confidently with his right leg being grasped firmly over the guy's shoulder with his two hands was Ichigo Kurosaki. And he was smiling. It wasn't happy or feral or crazy. Ichigo was smiling angrily at him. And not for the first time did the Mod Soul feel the dread build up inside his (Ichigo's body's) gut.

“Tell you what,” Ichigo continued, “how about I let you meet him again. IN HELL!”

Ichigo looked absolutely pissed. And Orihime was seeing that look for the first time. It was a little shocking to see but not unexpected. The three of them had arrived at the elementary school because Rukia's radar had pinpointed this location where the Hollow will appear. But before Orihime and Ichigo could prepare themselves, the radar lost track of the Hollow. Rukia had then explained to Orihime that it must be a false alarm. She had said Hollows tend to go halfway through the gateway before returning to the Hollow World. But in exchange for the false alarm, the three of them had been gifted with a bit of luck. Orihime had sniffed the air and caught the scent of Ichigo's body around the back of the school's PE equipment storehouse. Rukia and Ichigo gave her the same strange look she had also seen in Tatsuki's face when Orihime told her she could find Ichigo by scent like a bloodhound. Nevertheless, they had followed her and, sure enough, had found whom they were looking for.

Ichigo had already sprung into action before either of the girls could prepare themselves for the plan Rukia had thought up.

“Ichigo!” Rukia exclaimed, raising her right arm to grab him but was too late. “That idiot,” she added in a whisper.

“Kuchiki-san, should we stick to the plan?”

Rukia nodded. “Ichigo's doing his part of the plan, albeit unknowingly.” She rolled her eyes and pulled out her Skull glove from her blazer's right pocket. “Inoue-san, get into position.”

“Roger.”

Orihime ran towards the Mod Soul's blind spot, while Ichigo tried to keep hold of his physical body's foot as he talked to him. And Orihime was starting to dislike the smile he was using. Before helping him, she looked around and saw the three kids already running away from the place, shouting out “Sensei! Sensei!” in a loud, uncoordinated frenzy.

Breathing deeply, in and then out, she charged towards the Mod Soul just when he pushed Ichigo away by kicking him in the gut with his left foot. This was her chance; his hands were extended to each side, giving her a wide area for a Nelson hold. She learned this move from Tatsuki as well, even though it was another one of the wrestling submission holds she added to Orihime's martial arts training. Orihime steeled her nerves—making sure she's mentally prepared for another touchy-feely remark (and attempt, don't forget that) from the Mod Soul—and pushed her arms under his. She then raised her forearms towards the Mod Soul's shoulders, and finalized it with intertwining her hands above the Mod Soul's nape.

“What the—” the Mod Soul said in surprise before he clenched his fists and began to wrestle his way out of her hold.

“Kuchiki-san, now!” Orihime exclaimed, locking the hold for all her worth, trying desperately not to let the Mod Soul have a chance of escaping her clutches again. Rukia was closing in. Orihime just needed to keep this hold for another three seconds before it can be all over.

She expected the Mod Soul to look directly at Rukia, but instead he stopped his squirming and looked left. The oddity was not lost to her and she wondered he was thinking while she kept her hold strong. Rukia was very close, her hand extended, more than ready to slam onto the side of the Mod Soul's head. It was—

BEEP! BEEP!

The noise originated from Rukia's pocket. And Orihime was very familiar with that ring tone.

A deafening roar came from her left and when she turned her head that way—and unconsciously losing grip on the hold—she saw a large Hollow entering the quadrangle from a black, distorted passageway. The wind followed the sound of the Hollow's hoarse roar and some of her bangs danced and tangled themselves into her vision. She shook her head to get them off her face but the sweat that accumulated from their hour-long search in the city acted as an adhesive foundation for the strands to cling on. And without warning, she felt her captive moving while she had been distracted.

The Mod Soul had jumped. It was not a straight jump but one that resembled a backflip. He took off from the ground, and while her arms were still placed on his underarms and her hands on his nape, Orihime had to arch her back Matrix-style as her captive shifted positions that he was now on top of her. The momentum wasn't yet lost and he was still halfway from completing his evasive maneuver. And if Orihime didn't let go now, she might inevitably lose grip of her captive and crash onto the ground, spine- and headfirst. A painful fall.

But the Mod Soul didn't give her time to think within that brief fraction of a second as he wiggled his arms around until her hands detached from each other and the rest of her arms disentangled themselves from his body.

In the distance, as Orihime looked on at the upside-down view of the Mod Soul in Ichigo's body, another mighty roar shot through the quad, beating the yelp she made once her body greeted the dirt. She unconsciously closed her eyes as the pain rocked through her back with unmerciful fury, and opened them again to see that the Mod Soul was no longer in her view. She looked towards the roar and found him running towards the Hollow. He kicked the Hollow while its attention was on Ichigo and Rukia, and sent it off far.

Orihime rose from her position, not even bothering to dust away the dirt that stuck to her black robes and sweaty skin. The Hollow that showed up today was like a caterpillar, only it floated around the rooftop of the main elementary school building.

“Hey! Get back here!” Ichigo yelled at the retreating Mod Soul. Orihime's first thought was to go after him, but that was before she saw him running towards the school building and towards the Hollow.

“What is he doing?” Rukia asked. Her cell phone was held in her right hand, closed and off.

Ichigo didn't answer her. He just grunted and sprinted after the thief that stole his body. Following close behind him was Rukia and then Orihime. She was slightly fatigued but the extra effort from the earlier hold released some adrenaline into her system, and she was hoping to make the most of this temporary boost until the Hollow and Mod Soul situation was dealt with properly. She jumped along with Ichigo from the side of the school building to quickly get access at the roof. Rukia was stuck with taking the stairs due to her still unpowered state.

A long tentacle-shaped shadow divided the rooftop as the Hollow crossed above it. After successfully climbing to the roof, Orihime saw the Hollow's silhouette as it eclipsed the sun. The Mod Soul was nearby, jumping up, wanting to damage the Hollow further.

The Mod Soul kicked the Hollow's underbelly, clearly making it mad. But he hadn't anticipated how he would land after delivering that blow, so the Hollow used that indecision by swatting its tail right at him. He quickly saw it coming and swerved his body to dodge it. Dodging the tail was one thing, avoiding the long spikes protruding from that tail was another thing entirely. He was out of luck, then, and Ichigo's physical body was now sporting a pretty savage wound on his left shoulder, all while falling down at over three stories onto the roof.

But surprisingly he landed like a cat, minimizing the force of gravity as his legs absorbed most of the fall's impact. The Hollow didn't hesitate even for a second as it shortened the distance between it and its prey. The Mod Soul was left unguarded while Orihime just stood there, staring at the battle. The Mod Soul reacted too late when the Hollow got too close and would've had even more wounds to count into the list if not for the real Ichigo intercepting the attack in time.

Ichigo swiftly blocked the caterpillar Hollow's second tail attack with his sword, pushed it away, and finished it with a slash, gashing the tip of the Hollow's tail.

The Hollow retreated.

Ichigo breathed out deeply and with a well-trained flick of his sword, he performed chiburi (lit. “Blood flick”) to remove the blood staining his blade.

“You,” the body stealer said to him. “You saved me? But why?”

Is he for real? Ichigo thought. Without waiting for the guy to stop looking incredulously at him, Ichigo holstered his sword, grabbed his physical body by the collar, and said right to his face, “Like hell I was saving you, thief.” He looked at the wound on his body's shoulder. “Damn, now look at what you did to my body! If I have left you alone with it, it will look so torn up that not even my own family would recognize me.”

“Then why don't you do your job than just stand around like a clueless idiot?!”

“I am doing my job, bastard.”

“Oh, then I guess I didn't have to intervene when you apparently had the whole Hollow situation under control.” Sarcasm was all over that sentence.

Ichigo tightened the grip and pulled his face closer to his. “You tryin' to make me angry?”

“You aren't yet? With that face, I thought the Incredible Hulk was your role model.”

That ticked him off. He pulled his free arm back and was more than happy to start punching the guy without remorse. His fist was inches away from hitting the cheek before he realized he was going to punch his own body. And that ticked him off even further. To see this guy taunting him—and his trademark scowl—but couldn't make a counter with blows due to the circumstances left him with a grudging feeling. Once he got his body back, he would remember to even this little score . . .

Ichigo heard the growls of the Hollow attacking them once more. But before it could come close, Orihime appeared right in front of him, slowly unsheathing her sword from its scabbard. Again he was mesmerized at how the light would blind him for a second as the blade exited the shadows of the scabbard. Ichigo thought it must've been reflection from the sun that blinded him until he realized that the sun was currently hovering over a cloud, basically hiding it from plain view.

Orihime's sword was as long as he first saw it. Even though the blade had been sheathed inside a two-foot long scabbard, the actual length was doubled. It explained why the hilt had the length of a twelve-inch ruler. And she was grasping that same hilt with both hands in a kendo position.

What is she doing?! Ichigo thought worriedly. He involuntarily moved his right hand towards his sheathed sword and looked ready to attack.

“Let me handle this,” Orihime said to him without looking. With that small but sharp command, he motioned his hand back down without a second thought . . . or even conscious thought. It was as if he had been temporarily mind controlled to follow her direct order.

And when Ichigo realized this, Orihime already charged for a frontal assault.

“Inoue!”

He saw her move away from an incoming tail strike and use her long blade as a guard when one of the tail's spikes got close enough to injure her. Reeling herself back, Orihime took a proper swing at the fleeing tail and managed to aggravate the wound he made on the Hollow earlier, further deepening the cut. It was executed in such precision and instinct that Ichigo was left stunned and wondering whether that person was still the same old Orihime with the gentle gray eyes.

The Hollow screamed from the wound in its wound. “Damn you, bitch!” it cried. It attacked her with its head this time, opening its mouth to reveal two sets of giant white teeth.

Orihime didn't quiver nor stepped back. She positioned her sword in that same kendo stance and locked gazes with the Hollow. Her eyes were narrowed with a fighting will Ichigo had never seen before. The Hollow was planning on attacking again, Ichigo could tell by the way it stood in one place and not hovering around like it was doing before. The Hollow was completely in a battle phase, observing the opponent before it made its move. If he were the Hollow, he would most likely examine the length of her sword first and what move he'd do to get in close before his enemy could even react by swinging her blade at him.

But Orihime actually did the unthinkable: She sheathed her sword back into its sheath and then assumed a strange position. Now Ichigo had been in more than a few battles, but there was one thing he would never do and that was to never sheathe his sword while in the middle of a fight. Just the mere thought of doing it could be considered suicidal. But it was due to Orihime's stance that he didn't react to help her.

“Hey, Ichigo,” the Mod Soul called, “hurry and help her. I think she's gone crazy.”

“Shut up,” he replied, not making eye contact with the guy. His vision was sorely on Orihime's back. He somehow understood by that stance alone that Orihime was planning something, and she needed to do this alone.

“Hypocrite.”

“If you don't want me to destroy you after I get my body back you will shut up now or else I'll make you and then destroy you.” And Ichigo meant every word of it. But he didn't hear a reply from the guy because the Hollow already made its next move on Orihime. It was going for a full-on assault.

Ichigo blinked.

And missed the whole thing.

The Hollow's mask had already been sliced in half and the body falling, slowly disintegrating into nothing. When he looked over at Orihime, he saw her around ten feet forward from where he last saw her standing and motioning her right arm for the chiburi before sheathing her sword back into the scabbard.

He couldn't believe it. Orihime defeated the Hollow in under a second?

The shock was like a paralyzing drug to Ichigo, if not because his legs felt like jelly and refused to move from the floor but because he didn't even consider chasing the Mod Soul when he abruptly ran passed Orihime and towards the edge of the roof. The guy was already halfway there when Ichigo finally got his legs back into working order (with slight aftereffects of unbalance) and ran after him.

The Hollow was purified and breaking down into spirit particles, but the Mod Soul still kicked its abdomen before it completely disappeared. He was about to fall down, but Ichigo grabbed hold of his ankle just in the nick of time. The Mod Soul sighed in relief; Ichigo was beyond pissed.

“First fighting a Hollow and getting my body cut, and now kicking a dead foe!” Ichigo yelled. “If I hadn't caught you, you would've turned my body into a freakin' pancake. Just what the hell were you thinking?!”

The Mod Soul merely looked at him strangely before pointing at the empty quadrangle. Wait . . . it wasn't empty at all. There were four people down there, just beside the school building whose roof Ichigo was on. The kids looked like they were telling their teacher that they had been attacked by the Mod Soul. And apparently, by the looks on all three of them, the teacher didn't believe them.

“You . . . saved them?” Ichigo pulled him back onto the roof. “But why? I thought you were going to kill them?”

“I don't kill people,” the Mod Soul said. He sat down against the railing, head low.

“Not the way I saw it with those kids earlier.”

“I was angry at them, and I intended my kick to be a simple human-strength kick. That kid kept talking about things he had no right or proof to speak openly about.”

“And that is?”

The Mod Soul looked at him in the eye. “A creator has the right to kill its creations.”

Ichigo stared; he could see that the guy was unnerved by his face which was currently a mask of indifference.

The Mod Soul looked away. “I've been created to help Soul Society. And I've been ordered for termination soon after. In other words, the same day that I was created was the same day my creators planned to destroy me.”

“What? That's absurd.”

“No, it's true, Ichigo.” Behind Ichigo stood Rukia and Orihime. By the seriousness of the speaker, Ichigo had no doubt that it was Rukia in her usual `shinigami business' persona. Her normal persona, actually.

“What do you mean?” Ichigo questioned. “Did Soul Society really do this?”

“Project Spearhead was a failure. It was inevitable for every trace of research in the development of Mod Souls to be terminated. All Mod Soul pills, experimental and complete, have been scrapped. All except one, I suppose.”

“So you're saying that Soul Society created Mod Souls for their convenience,” Ichigo tried very hard to keep a leveled-voice as his emotions were flaring in frustration over the revelations today, “and destroyed Mod Souls for their convenience?”

Rukia nodded. “That sums it up, yes.”

“But why?” Orihime asked. “What they did was just wrong.”

“It doesn't matter if Soul Society was wrong or not. Remember that Soul Society is doing everything in its power to help your kind from the Hollow threat, even if Soul Society had its shortcomings and mistakes in the past.”

“And what's done is now done. It is all in the past.”

The new voice coming from the left surprised Ichigo. He looked that way, and found his body lying on the floor and staring at the sky with glazed brown eyes. There was the sound of TAP! TAP! TAP! on the floor, like a bouncing marble. The Mod Soul pill was on that floor and out of his body.

“I guess we came too late for the fun,” the stranger in the striped hat said as he picked up the fallen pill. He looked like he was some hobo—a clean hobo—with a cane and wearing old-fashioned sandals. Behind him were three people: A tall, Jamaican-looking dude with glasses and cornrow hair; a boy with dark red hair and holding an exaggeratedly thick bat or frying pan; and a little girl with a coffin-sized object wrapped in white bandages to her right. The sandal-and-hat guy tossed the pill in the air, like flipping a coin, as he spoke to him. “Ichigo Kurosaki, huh? I've heard so much about you.”

“Who are you?”

“Oh! Why I am just an honest merchant who—”

“Happened to be stealing back items I purchased from his store,” Rukia interrupted, grabbing the pill while the sandal-and-hat guy was talking to him. “Does that seem honest to you?”

“I guess I'll just let you refund your purchase if that's what it takes.”

“No.” Rukia shook her head to emphasize that. “I'm happy with my purchase.”

The sandal-and-hat guy adjusted his green- and white-striped hat, shrouding his eyes. “If they were to find out, all of us will go in hiding.”

“Understood.”

“Well, since the situation is now normal, my group and I must take our leave. Oh! And don't worry about the chaos Mr. Modified Soul has caused. We will take care of that.”

“That's pretty generous of you, Urahara,” Rukia commented with a raised brow.

“Call it our insurance policy for selling badly made goods to our frequent customers.” Before all four of them made their exit, the sandal-and-hat guy walked towards him. The guy gave him a once-over before continuing on with the rest of his lackeys.

It wasn't until he said “Orihime, I presume,” that he turned back at the guy with a scowl. Something about the way he said that sentence didn't feel right at all, like how a tourist would say `Wow!' after seeing some famous landmark or attraction.

“Y—yes,” Orihime stammered out her answer.

“That was an impressive form of swordplay.” The guy had a bit of a faraway look in the span of two seconds before his eyes widened. Then his gaze on Orihime intensified as if he was assessing her for physical deformities. Ichigo saw him look directly into Orihime's eyes and heard him intake a half-pint of air. He could think of only one thing that can cause that kind of reaction, but he saw nothing brown in Orihime's eyes when he turned to look at them. They were still gray and gentle, though maybe a little unnerved by the attention of a stranger.

The sandal-and-hat guy then smiled, chuckled, and shook his head all at the same time. “Mystery solved, I guess,” he said, although it sounded like he was talking to himself and did not mean to say that out loud.

“Hey,” Ichigo called.

The sandal-and-hat guy looked his way and replied with an almost disinterested voice, “Hm?”

“I'll ask again. Who are you?”

The guy tilted his hat and answered, “Kisuke Urahara. And it's a pleasure to leave you.”

“A pleasure to lea—what?”

All four of them were gone, like bad-ass, disappearing ninjas.

“Weird guy,” he commented, vouching an agreement from Rukia. “You know him?”

“He was the one who sold me the Gikongan pack,” Rukia answered. She handed him the pill. “What are we going to do with this guy now?”

“Don't worry. I have plans to do to him.”

Rukia slowly backed away from him when he started smirking.

Orihime entered the nurse's office and found her body under a blanket at the bed nearest to the entrance.

When the strange hat-man had disappeared with his group, she, Ichigo, and Rukia had headed back to Karakura High. The chaos, by then, had already been erased from the minds of everyone in the classroom. All the tables and chairs had been rearranged but the broken window was still unfixed. Thankfully, the students remembered it as some punk throwing a rock which shattered the glass. Orihime hadn't seen Tatsuki or her physical body in the classroom, so she assumed that they had taken her body to the nurse's office with Tatsuki close behind.

Orihime was a little glad that Tatsuki wouldn't remember any of this happened. It was a secret she intended to keep her out of lest her life would be in danger again just like that life-changing night. Orihime didn't want to see Tatsuki get involved in this, more so because she doesn't have any spiritual powers like Ichigo and her. Tatsuki might have attained a level of spiritual sensitivity that she can now sense and see ghosts, but that didn't mean she could fend off against Hollows twice the size of professional basketball players. Few might call her a hypocrite, citing that she was doing exactly what Ichigo was doing with her which she didn't like. But there was a difference between her and Tatsuki now.

Tatsuki had always been her protector for the past five years. Orihime felt it was time to be her protector now, even if Tatsuki wouldn't know about it.

Orihime wasted no time in merging her soul back into the empty vessel of a body. Her lungs craved for air like ravenous animals, and she let them take their well-needed fill. When she got most of her bodily functions `back to life,' so to speak, she finally realized that she wasn't alone in the room.

While Orihime had been busy with recombining her soul to her body, she didn't notice Tatsuki walking away from her hiding place behind the curtains of the next bed and then stood beside her.

Orihime was ready to greet her like normal. She would have to act like she hadn't a clue why she was here. In other words, play dumb. “Ah, Tatsuki-chan, what happened? Why am I in the nurse's office?”

“Your body collapsed after Kuchiki slammed her hand at you.” She then crossed her arms. “Imagine my surprise not one but two Orihimes falling to the ground, but only one standing back up.”

“Two? Heh?” Did that mean Tatsuki—

“You said you'll explain when you get back. So now you're back. Start explaining.”

Yep, she remembered.

And Orihime can't fully lie to Tatsuki no matter how hard she tries. The girl would always find out. The only exception to that rule was hiding her inner turmoil; Orihime seemed to have a talent in hiding that part of herself from everyone including Tatsuki. The lie concerning the Kendo lessons was just a fluke, nothing more. Orihime had had the confidence and the determination to learn Kendo, without the penetrating gaze or the make-one-little-mistake-and-Tatsuki's-trust-of-you-will-be-damaged situation hanging around. The pressure, now, was far more than what she could take, and trying to conjure a lie on the fly was like trying to solve the cube root of twenty-two without a calculator.

“Orihime, you okay?”

She could only nod dumbly. But her mind was racing to catch up to the revelation that the memory-modifier didn't work on her best friend, the one person she didn't want to know about her newfound powers and the new world she had discovered along the way. And it looked like Tatsuki wouldn't be leaving this discussion for later until getting some proper answers.

Orihime dreaded the first words to come out of her mouth. But she then realized that once she started with her bizarre tale, it got easier as she continued.

Tatsuki listened attentively. And Orihime was grateful she was silent until she finished. But most of what she wanted to say was filled with hesitation but the words were already leaving her lips before her mind or heart could even think of making second thoughts about telling it. The truth would hurt, but Orihime found the truth to be a form of release from all the pent-up emotions she held inside. For almost two weeks. For almost two weeks it had been like this. And Tatsuki only listened without saying a word.

Maybe an hour had passed when she was done telling her story. But all she had been waiting for was Tatsuki's reaction. The silence was deafening even though her voice was there to keep sound afloat in the empty room. In a moment of wonder, she wanted to ask Tatsuki where the nurse was, but she decided to save that for later, thinking it irrelevant. Tatsuki didn't say a word during the whole story. And that did not really give you a clear picture over what they're feeling, apart from disbelief, shock, or even . . . rejection.

“And,” Orihime said, a faint crack in her voice, “that's all of it. What do you think of it, Tatsuki-chan?”

She now waited for Tatsuki's reply.