After Five Lifetimes
6. Contact
Orihime thought a lot about what Urahara had proposed that day over the next week. She wanted to help, had already decided to help, but she wanted it to be on her terms. Actually, on Tsubaki’s terms, more accurately.
The male spirit had had several long talks with her over the matter, waking her up at all hours of the night and even invading one of her exams in school. She’d had to draw the line there, threatening to treat him like a winged insect if he got her into trouble for appearing to cheat during the test.
She paused at the edge of the school sidewalk that sunny afternoon to pull up her socks, stooping as she did, eyes on the perimeter of the school. Ichigo had gone missing from class a few times that week, and although he returned unharmed and without Rukia, Orihime knew the female shinigami was there. She could sense her now, not on her own, but whenever Ichigo returned from his absences. Something about the dark-haired woman hung about him, and Orihime knew what it was. That connection, his nearness to her that lingered.
It had made letting go all the more difficult.
But Orihime hadn’t been alone in ignoring the residual feelings she had for him. Tatsuki had figured it out and become a regular dinner guest when she didn’t have practice, but that was becoming rarer with her extended sessions at the dojo. Master Takazawa had been making the rounds to all the teams eligible for the grand tournament in Tokyo the next month and spending time with each for specialized practices.
Renji had stopped by her apartment once, too, giving the reason as asking for her answer to Urahara, but also telling her she needn’t give one if she didn’t have one yet. He hadn’t stayed more than a few moments, but convinced her to give the matter another few days of thought. She agreed to, and he’d left.
Orihime stood up from her socks and smoothed her beige sweater vest over her waist as Tatsuki handed back her book bag. Tatsuki had been there when Renji stopped by, and she’d had questions. Orihime hadn’t answered as fully as she knew her friend wanted, but she promised she’d clear it up. Eventually.
“If it’s got to do with Urahara-san, watch yourself,” Tatsuki said as they followed the other students out of the schoolyard. Her dark eyes shifted between the boys roughhousing with each other near the sidewalk at the street. “I guess Abarai-san would tell you if it was something you shouldn’t do. Urahara-san said they didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye on some things.”
Orihime nodded, thinking back on her friend’s time spent training with the shopkeeper. She and Keigo hadn’t trained as completely as either had wanted to, as the War had ended, and school had resumed, and now Keigo had been transferred to another high school. Karakura Civil High School hadn’t been the same without him.
“Urahara-san is nice, just inquisitive,” she excused as they joined the sidewalk traffic, wishing she believed that as wholeheartedly as she said it. She smiled, hoping to add credence to her words. “I think Renji and him just butt heads a little. Nothing serious.”
Tatsuki’s head jerked around to her friend, lifting an eyebrow. “Renji now, is it?”
Orihime fought off a blush and shrugged, her smile deepening. “I have known him for a year and a half, Tatsuki. It was his idea.”
Tatsuki nodded as they crossed the street with the other students. “Yeah, but it’s still Kurosaki-kun, huh?”
Orihime laughed a little, sighing and looking to the sidewalk ahead. “Have you got time to take the market street? I want to get a squash for soup tomorrow.”
Tatuski made a face. “Yeah, but we’ve got to hurry. Master Takazawa allows no tardies.”
Orihime nodded and they hastened their steps, her arms wrapped around her book bag. She clutched it closer as a chill caught her spine. She didn’t look behind her this time, or even pause, but continued on. “Are you cold, Tatsuki?”
The other girl shook her head, eyeing the sleeveless sweater vest her friend wore. “I can’t believe you’re wearing a sweater already, Orihime. It’s barely into September. Are you cold?”
Orihime frowned as they wove among the other students. “I was earlier this morning, and just now ...” She forced a smile to her lips. “Just a chill. That’s all.”
She refused to look behind her, but her attention went to the other side of the street. The residential area dissolved into a row of shops, most of the student traffic falling away as classmates found their separate ways home, and the afternoon workshift foot traffic began. It was only her and Tatsuki and a few students by the time they reached the green grocer shop farther on, the rest older adults and office workers. Orihime’s eyes stayed on an alley across the street from them as she slung her book bag over her shoulder at the grocer’s entrance.
It was just an alley, nothing different about it, a few garbage cans and cats dotting it, the end of it blocked from view by wooden crates and stacked pallets.
Nothing to see, she told herself as she turned and followed Tatsuki inside the green grocer’s shop. The store was filled with early fall produce, ranging from melons to squash and pumpkin, to late-bearing eggplant and peppers, and Orihime had to make a determined effort to only get the butternut squash she’d planned to buy, knowing Tatsuki was in a hurry to get to practice.
But when they stepped back out onto the sidewalk, she felt the chill more intensely. She stopped a few feet onto the sidewalk, what should have been a soft late summer breeze on her face seeming sharply cold on her back. She paused, looking across the street at the alley.
Tatsuki followed her gaze, eyes moving along the opposite sidewalk now crowded with people. “What do you see, ‘Hime?”
Orihime’s eyes narrowed, searching the alley and then the crowd. “Nothing.” She took a few steps as Tatsuki fell into step with her. “Just looking.”
They continued on, the feeling still creeping beneath her sweater vest, beneath her blouse, inching up her spine until Orihime couldn’t ignore it. She looked to the sidewalk across the street, feeling she should see a figure from her past among the crowd.
“... for the Olympics three years ago, so it’s kinda a big deal,” Tatsuki was saying, “and with the Korean tae kwon do clubs last year. We’re really lucky to have him train us.”
“Oh, yes, that sounds good,” Orihime said, frowning as her eyes sifted through the crowd of people, her steps in sync with her friend’s.
Then she saw it, the tall figure in white seemingly moving through the pedestrians on the opposite sidewalk, unmistakably light blue hair topping above most of the other people, head turned toward her, but mostly hidden by the crowd around him.
Orihime caught her breath, arms tightening around her bag, the squash a lump inside, her steps slowing.
And then he was gone. She glanced to Tatsuki, who walked on, reciting Master Takazawa’s credentials, oblivious to what had rattled her friend.
Orihime looked back to the sidewalk across the street. For a brief second Grimmjow was back, and then vanished, and then back again only to disappear.
She halted, eyes searching the other sidewalk until the tall figure in white stopped and let the people meander around and seemingly through him.
“Hey, you coming, Orihime?” Tatsuki glanced back at her friend, and then looked to the opposite sidewalk, frowning at what held her attention. “What do you see?”
He was gone. Orihime made herself move again, looking to Tatsuki with an unfocused stare. “Nothing. I just ... Nothing, Tatsuki.”
“You sure?”
Orihime nodded, easing into a smile she didn’t feel.
“Well, if you’re sure. I got to run.” Tatsuki pulled her book bag straps over both shoulders. “When are you going to butcher that squash?”
Orihime smiled wider. “In a few days. You’ll come for dinner?”
“If I can. See ya!”
“Bye, good luck!” Orihime called as Tatsuki broke into a run down the sidewalk.
She made herself continue on, chiding herself for imagining to see Grimmjow. If she didn’t look, he wouldn’t be there.
And if I look and he’s really there, she told herself, it’s my imagination. It has to be.
She glanced to the opposite sidewalk and stopped in her tracks. He stood staring back at her, this time in a sparser crowd of people. He watched her for a few seconds, and then looked in the direction Tatsuki had run.
To Orihime’s horror, he dashed after her friend, crossing the street with lightning speed, and weaving among the people on the sidewalk in front of her, out of sight.
“Tatsuki!” Orihime dropped her book bag and squash and took off after the figure in white.
“Watch it!” cried a man as she pushed past him.
“Hey!” said another.
She pushed through the crowd in front of her, a sea of people milling before her as she dashed pell mell after the tall form that she knew to be the dead Espada Six. Her steps raced on, bumping shoulders and elbows with the crowd as she hurried, her breath coming in pants as she covered the first two blocks before the streets opened into a busier section of town.
She was still in mid-stride when two large fingers hooked over the back of her skirt waist and lurched her to a halt as she passed an alley. She found herself flung to the wall of a brick building in the side street, looking up at a very much live-appearing Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez.
He stood looking down at her, the mask in place at his jaw, watching her with what seemed to be a mixture of slight confusion and recollection. His torso was covered with an unbuttoned white shirt, but she knew it was him.
She held her breath despite her heaving lungs, afraid to move, but unwilling to speak.
Suddenly from farther down the alley a pair of black-robed figures dropped down from the building’s rooftop. Grimmjow’s attention snapped that way, eyes narrowing on the two shinigami, and then he darted away, seeming to disappear into the crowd at the sidewalk.
Orihime slid down the wall a few inches, the shinigami but a blur as they passed her in pursuit of Grimmjow. She took a shaky breath and stood straighter as another figure appeared before her, this one she readily recognized. She looked up at Renji now in his black robes.
“Are you all right, Orihime?” he asked as she sagged against the wall, eyes still wide.
She nodded numbly, remembering to breathe.
He took her wrist and pulled her out of the alley, eyes searching the milling people on the sidewalks before going back to her. “Go home.”
“But he’s after Tatsuki,” she said, gasping at the words. She took a step down the sidewalk before his hand jerked her to a stop.
“Go home, Orihime. We’ll see to your friend,” he said, this time more forcefully.
She nodded, and he followed after the two shinigami already in the distance.
It took twenty minutes for Orihime to get home. Her pace had been quick, but she’d forgotten her bag and squash and had to backtrack a few blocks to get them. She shakily fit the key in her apartment door, went in, and bolted every lock on it behind her.
Grimmjow.
It was true. Rukia and Ichigo were right. Renji had seen him, too, and two other shinigami had chased him.
She set the squash on the counter in the kitchenette and let her book bag fall to the floor at the cupboard side. Her heart was still racing, and she made herself turn the squash, examining it for damage, trying to think of the lyrics of the song playing from the next apartment as her mind raced through images of the Espada.
It was him. She knew it. She hadn’t sensed but a mere ripple of spiritual pressure from him, more the bone-chilling cold, but it was him.
She frowned, running a finger over the small crack in the squash’s tan skin. Not much damage, she decided. She wiped the vegetable off with a towel and put it in the small refrigerator, where it took up most of one shelf.
She sighed, pushing her hair from her face, trying to block out the Espada’s piercing eyes on her. She groaned, refusing to let her pulse skyrocket again, and went into her bedroom.
She didn’t want to take off the vest and certainly not the blouse, even for a few moments being without their warmth, but she did, and changed into a thicker peach colored sweater with longer sleeves. She shivered, whisking off her school shirt and gym shorts and trading them for a longer blue skirt, hoping to quell the chill she knew had nothing to do with the weather.
She pulled her hair out of her round collar and stepped back into the living room, her eyes skirting nervously around it. She didn’t want to start her schoolwork, and her hands were too shaky to attempt beadwork for the Handcrafts Club project. She wished she knew how Tatsuki was.
At practice, she told herself. Renji and the other shinigami would have taken care of any problems. She blocked out the memories of the two dead white-robed forms in Urahara’s shop from a few days back
She shook her head to clear the memory as a knock sounded at the door. She knew it was Renji, recognizing him easily, smiling a little at her new ability, and unlocked the door quickly.
She opened the door wide, smiling more, and let him in without a word.
“Are you all right?” he asked as she closed the door and locked it.
She nodded. “Did you find him?”
He shook his head, glancing over her change of attire, still in his shinigami robes. “He was gone by the time I caught up with them. He didn’t seem interested in a confrontation.” He frowned as she did. “Your friend -- Arisawa-san? -- is fine. She was just entering the dojo as we passed, and there was no sign of Grimmjow.”
She sighed heavily, smiling. “Good. Thank you for checking.”
He nodded. “Did he say anything to you?”
“No.” She crossed her arms, stifling a shiver.
“Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “Just a chill.” She looked around the room and then back to him. “Sit down. I’ll get you a soda.”
“That’s all right, Orihime.” He watched her fingers grip her sweater sleeves tighter. “I’m covering the west side of town this evening, back-up for Division Twelve. Neither of the other two shinigami you saw have had much field experience,” he added dryly. “Rukia is taking the east side with another pair.” He looked to each of her eyes. “You want someone here with you?” He didn’t want to suggest the next words, but he did anyway. “You want to have Ichigo come over? Until you calm down.”
“Oh, no, no,” she said quickly. “I’m fine, Renji. Just a little shaken. That’s all.”
He nodded, watching her hands rub her arms until she noticed his attention, and then she dropped her arms to her sides. “What about you friend? Arisawa-san.”
“She has practice until late.” She hesitated to say more, and then sighed. “She said she’d call if it wasn’t too late.”
He nodded. “All right. I guess I’ll see you later then.”
“Oh, Renji, can you tell Urahara-san I want to help,” she said as he stepped towards the door.
He looked at her sharply. “Are you sure? You don’t have to give him an answer yet.”
She nodded with more enthusiasm than she felt. “But only for Ayame and Shunou’s abilities. The healing spirits,” she added when he didn’t recognize the names. “To begin with. I’m not sure about the others.”
He wasn’t about to try talking her out of it, seeing as she was allowing only a partial study of her powers. “I’ll let him know in the morning, Orihime.”
She smiled as he unlocked the door and opened it. “Thanks.”
He looked at the deadbolt and chain locks on the door, knowing they would do little to stop anyone of Grimmjow’s capabilities if he wanted to come in, even if the Espada was nearly powerless in the spiritual sense. The Arrancar had exceptional physical abilities, too. “Keep these locked.”
“I will.”
He took a final glimpse at her, knowing she was still unsettled from her encounter, but attempting to maintain her composure. “Goodnight, Orihime.”
“Goodnight, Renji.”
He spent the next four hours combing Karakura Town’s west side with the other two members of the Twelfth Division. They weren’t too happy about his tagging along, as they termed it, and Renji had made it clear he was only there in an observatory manner.
He outranked them, he reminded the unseated shinigami, and that was enough to keep their grumblings to a minimum. He knew Rukia was going through the same routine with the other pair of fledgling probationaries on the east side of town, and while she was not a seated officer, her relation to Captain Kuchiki was generally enough to throw the extra weight she needed.
The night was mild, with little breeze as Renji leapt from rooftop to rooftop amid the chimneys and lines of forgotten laundry across the residential areas. Quiet, too, for which he was glad.
At the same time, it made him wonder what the newly identified Espada was doing if not raising hell. It didn’t make any sense, not from what he knew and had heard of Grimmjow.
He settled on the rooftop of the fifth floor of Orihime’s apartment building. It wasn’t a large complex that she lived in, but tall enough, and the clients were orderly and quiet.
Except for the radio coming from her neighbor’s unit, he thought, crouching at the edge of the building, looking down at the light coming from a few of the windows on the floors below. She said she didn’t mind the music, he reminded himself, and he decided to believe her.
He looked back out over the town, wondering if Rukia was already holed up in Kurosaki’s closet for the night. Or maybe she wasn’t. He growled, steering his thoughts away from that prospect.
It was Grimmjow, there was no denying the man standing threateningly close before Orihime that afternoon. She knew it, too. Renji’s eyes narrowed as he thought back on it. They’d given chase, he and the other two shinigami from Twelfth, but the once-dead Espada had simply disappeared. No trace of him. There’d been no surge of spiritual energy, no residual presence, and Renji was beginning to think him near powerless.
Even with limited spiritual power Grimmjow was a strong being. Finding two power-robbed shinigami dead and dying was only evidence that Grimmjow was refurbishing himself. Which lead Renji to wonder why, and even if Aizen was still the top rung of the ladder in what he’d only heard described as the Realm.
From below he could hear Orihime’s voice become recognizable after a lull in the pop music drifting out of the neighboring window. She was talking to Tatsuki, he understood after a few moments of listening -- eavesdropping, Renji realized with a little guilt -- recounting the day, leaving out Grimmjow completely.
How very like her, he thought. Protective of her friend.
He listened for a moment more, promising himself he’d leave if the conversation turned private, but it didn’t, and he enjoyed the sound of her voice, even if she was saying somewhat unimportant and even silly things.
“Here you are,” Rukia said, alighting to his side, her tone accusatory and slightly suspicious. “Any luck finding him?”
“None.” Renji looked her over quickly, as he always did after she returned from hunting any Hollow, finding her undamaged. “You?”
She shook her head, standing at his side to look over the town shutting down for the night. “You’re sure it was him?”
“Yup.”
“Is Orihime okay?”
“She says she is.” He waited a few moments before poking her knee, making her flinch. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a closet somewhere?”
She flicked his ponytail with her fingers. “I’m going.”
He sighed, eyes going back to the neighborhood. “Be careful, Rukia. He’s still out there, and he’s not harmless.”
He voice took on a gentler tone. “Which is why you’re here, Renji?”
When he didn’t answer, instead watching the lights blink out in the next apartment building, she giggled.
“See you later, Renji.”
“Goodnight, Rukia.”
She sprinted off into the night, and Renji’s attention turned to the conversation and music from below.