FIC: Chicken Soup For The Shinigami Soul [collection of drabbles] ||4th drabble||
Title: Chicken Soup For The Shinigami Soul
Chapter Title: {Things Better Left Unsaid}
Author: Cella [stereotype_vamp]
Fandom:BLEACH
Ship: Byakuya/Orihime
Challenge: The Make Seren Feel Better With A Drabble Challenge! [unique]
Prompt: [none]
General Summary: Inoue Orihime is widely regarded as a dangerous cook. However, there is one thing no-one can deny. She always makes the best chicken soup. On the importance of being well fed, listened to, and on having a shoulder to cry on.
Chapter Summary: It’s like romance, only it isn’t. ORIHIME. BYAKUYA. On overly-curious girls, and voyeurs which shouldn’t have been there.
Spoilers: Soul Society arc.
Dedications: To ran_huo, who knows when to prod me to write, and who dug my whole for this fandom, making it so deep that now I can’t get out. Not sure I want to get out. Seren, every time you feel bad (and even when you don’t), expect a drabble here.
A/N: This will be a collection of drabbles, with different ships, or no ships at all. The chapters are not related to each other. At all. And Orihime might, or might not appear in each of them. But then again, she might. You might find that many of them are AU. Live to deal with that.
A/N the 2nd: Weird pairing, you say? What do you mean? Har, sarcasm, har. Hey, this plot bunny was a vicious, vicious beast. And Byakuya was just there waiting to be molested and bothered by Orihime’s general happiness. I think, if you don’t squint to look for romance, this makes one helluva crackfic. But that’s just me being narcissistic. Please note that the angst is because Byakuya was being a bothersome angst-muffin who wouldn’t let me be. I pushed me into the sadder part. Yeah? So. Whatever.
{Things Better Left Unsaid}
It’s heading towards night, and you’d rather be sleeping than trapped here, in this closet. You know you’re probably going to be trapped in here until someone who has the keys finds you. Well, at least it’s warm, even though you can feel that rainstorm coming. Rainstorms in the Soul Society are, from a scale from one to ten, on place twelve, which stands for utter-sheer-big-bitch.
You’re only glad you don’t have anything out in the rain. That way, you can laze about, until someone finds you. They’ll probably do that tomorrow. And you’ll probably get scolded for getting yourself into this mess. Feh. As if you haven’t scolded yourself enough by now. You don’t need their half-witted retorts. Tk.
At least you can breathe, and there’s light coming in through the cracks of the wooden doors. And is your stay like so, and squint your eyes like so, you’re able to see what’s happening outside the room. Office.
You think it’s an office, because it’s really full of office-things. Like…papers. You don’t like papers, papers are what those birds use as carpets and toilets in their golden cages. You’d take dirt and wood any day. Tonight, though, you get clothes as a bed. Clean clothes, which is a bonus. Maybe getting trapped in here isn’t that bad.
Eh. There’s someone outside. You tilt your head, and strain to hear what’s happening. There’s the tap,tap,tap of footsteps. Door opening.
“K-Kuchiki-san, good evening.” That one’s a girl.
“Good evening.” This one’s a man. The Man. The lord of this house. That little stuck-up prick you’ve seen prancing around like a Tom-cat.
“Um…is Rukia-san home?” Oh, she’s basically swallowing fear.
“No.” And he really is a bastard.
“I, um…I had made chicken soup.”
“Chicken soup.”
“Yeah. Yes. I didn’t know what to do, and I…well, made that. And I thought I’d share with Rukia-san.”
“Well. She’s not home.” Well, damn. It almost seems like he cares that he’s disappointing her. Impossible, you think.
“Right. So…” Silence. “So, how are you feeling, Kichiki-san?”
“Tired.” The tone is dry. It’s threatening. It should indicate that he wants her to leave, and he wants to sleep. But she doesn’t. She’s brave, and you like her already.
“Oh, are you still sick?”
“Sick? I was never sick.” Girl hit a sore spot.
“I mean, injured. Are you still injured?”
“I am out of the hospital, am I not?”
“Well yes, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” The girl’s smart, got to give her that. “Oh, I know! Since I already made the chicken soup, and chicken soup is like a natural medicine, why don’t we eat it together?” Yep, bold and brave. And stupid.
“Natural medicine?”
“Yep. It cures everything, from common colds, to depression, and it stops the pain, because it’s really, really delicious.”
“Hm.”
“So…would you join me for some chicken soup, Kuchiki-sama?” Heh. You liked that. Polite and formal down to the toes. She’s good. He might actually take her on that offer.
“I would be honoured, Inoue-san.” See? Polite and formal down to the very last stick up his arse, but he said yes.
This is good. This is very good. They’re moving into the office adjacent to the closet you’re trapped in. You’re guessing that if you had some food with you, this would be dinner and a show. For now, you’ll take the show part.
They settle down, and the girl takes out plates and sets them properly on the table. She serves him first, and when he nods, she serves herself. They eat. She eats, he takes a swallow and his eyes widen. It’s amazement.
“Is there something wrong?” she asks.
“No, no. no, this is…your food is very good, Inoue-san.” He actually complimented her. Well, huh.
She’s surprised too, because she’s blushing now. Blushing, and stammering, but mumbling out a polite “thank you”. They eat in silence, and it looks comfortable, only not. The girl, Inoue-san, you remember, looks like she wants to ask something. To talk.
“Um, Kuchiki-san…have you…have you forgiven Rukia-san?”
Heh. He chokes on his soup. Very proper of him. “Forgiven for what?”
“Well, you must have been very upset, not to have helped her…she’s your sister, no?” Oh, girl’s got balls. She’s got them like no other.
“It wasn’t about being upset, it was about not interfering with the rules of the Society.”
“Hmm. I once heard in a movie, ‘I do not want to belong to this society. Yet this society doesn’t want to leave me be.’” You think being philosophical is better, because it actually works with the uber-brat better.
He’s lost at words. That’s a first. She’s put him in his place, and you can see he doesn’t like that. Really doesn’t like that.
“Then, if you weren’t upset at her, and did nothing to stop her execution, until the very last moment…has Rukia-san forgiven you?” Strike! Hole in one! Oh, he’s dead! She killed him with that question! Never mind the soft spot, this is like kicking the man in his metaphorical balls.
“I doubt that’s table material.” Prim, proper, highly wounded, ego-wise.
“Kuchiki-san…” You can’t believe she just poked his nose. You can’t believe she still conserves that finger. “You know, sometimes it helps. Talking…even with a stranger. Especially then, because said stranger will never, ever tell anyone else.”
“Really now?” Dry tone. Dangerous.
“Yes.”
“Is this therapy an attachment to the chicken soup menu, or does it cost me anything?”
“It’s more attached to the person bringing the chicken soup, than anything else. You know, if anything,” and now she’s getting ready to strike, “Kuchiki-san should respect his guests’ wish to talk, especially since said guest brought the food.” That had to hurt.
“I don’t think so.”
“I understand…I’m sorry to have--”
“No. It’s…the answer to your question. I don’t think she has forgiven me.”
“Oh. Do you want her to?”
“Yes.” That was quick. “Yes…it. It hurts, that she hasn’t.”
“Hm. Have you actually asked her, actually told her ‘I’m sorry’? Or did you just insinuate it?”
“I’m not good at apologizing.”
“Now’s a good time to start, I think. You need to have her as a sister. I…I had an older brother once. He died. He…I loved him very much. And the last day I saw him, the day he died, we had gotten really upset with one another. He left home, I think, thinking I hated him. After he died, I couldn’t live with the guilt. Thinking…thinking that he died mad at me.”
“What happened then?” His voice is softer.
“He came back. For a while. As a Hollow. And I…we had time, a little time, when the Hollow wasn’t in comand; and I told him I was sorry…and that I forgave him. And that I loved him. He killed himself…stabbed Ichigo-kun’s sword through his neck, but he was smiling. Smiling because we were okay.”
“Hn.”
“I…I don’t think, that if Shinigami die, they have a second chance, like that. So, you should really talk to Rukia-san. Get things straight. You’ll feel better afterwards.”
“Thank you. For the advice.”
She smiles. Smiles really really wide, expecting him to smile back. But he doesn’t seem to know how to do that anymore. So he tries, a bit, and it ends up in a grimace. But she seems happy anyway. They continue eating.
“So, why cherry blossoms?” she asks. Like you said, balls she has.
“I didn’t choose them, they chose me.”
“Was it difficult to control?”
“It was, at first, embarrassing. They were easier to control. The hard part came with trying to keep everyone from laughing and calling me a nancy-boy because my zanpakutou was made of cherry blossoms.”
“But it’s really strong. Strong and beautiful. Like Kuchiki-san.”
Oh, he does not know how to answer that. You can’t believe she said is, either. And neither can her, you think.
“If anything, we’re alike there. My powers are six faeries which come out from my hairpins.” She’s trying to mask that last slip of tongue. “It’s not very…imposing.”
“Yet it is intriguing. I’ve seen you healing, they’re very interesting, and they look powerful. Powerful, and interesting. Like you.” Oh, now it’s his turn to slip. You half wonder if there was something in the soup.
“Thank you.” She knows how to answer, though. That’s good. Safer. “Did…did they mark you?” Now she’s just plain obscene. You think.
“Yes.” And they leave it at that. Thank God.
“Mine won’t. They’re not a zanpakuto. Actually, no one really knows what they are. They draw the power from my heart. That might be why I can’t kill anyone.”
“That’s not a bad thing. It’s very noble. Dangerous, yes. Stupid, also. But noble.” He compliments again. Brat’s on a roll tonight!
“I guess Kuchiki-san knows a lot about being noble.” Huh. That joke’s not that funny. And yet they both laugh. Weird.
The soup is over soon, and Byakuya says she can leave the dishes here. It’s really dark outside, so, noble as he is, he offers to accompany her back to the 11th Division. You know it costs him to say that, because they’ll probably talk about this. Arrogant noble escorting young flower-girl home? That’s enough to feed the rumour mill for years.
Yet still. They stand up, and Byakuya opens the door, letting her pass through first. He guides her with a hand on her shoulder--hand which remains there seconds too long--, which you find odd, because you had him pegged as really asexual. They leave.
It’s dark now, and the air still threatens the arrival of the storm bitch, but it’s not like you care. You have a few things to mull on. Like how the rumour mill will blow up tomorrow. Or tonight. And how you’re the only one lucky enough--bless these closet doors for getting you stuck inside-- to know what really happened. You don’t know if you’d be willing to share it for free, though. Damn.
If cats could talk.
::end::
:
:
::she smiles whenever she sees a sakura tree in full blossom
Chapter Title: {Things Better Left Unsaid}
Author: Cella [stereotype_vamp]
Fandom:BLEACH
Ship: Byakuya/Orihime
Challenge: The Make Seren Feel Better With A Drabble Challenge! [unique]
Prompt: [none]
General Summary: Inoue Orihime is widely regarded as a dangerous cook. However, there is one thing no-one can deny. She always makes the best chicken soup. On the importance of being well fed, listened to, and on having a shoulder to cry on.
Chapter Summary: It’s like romance, only it isn’t. ORIHIME. BYAKUYA. On overly-curious girls, and voyeurs which shouldn’t have been there.
Spoilers: Soul Society arc.
Dedications: To ran_huo, who knows when to prod me to write, and who dug my whole for this fandom, making it so deep that now I can’t get out. Not sure I want to get out. Seren, every time you feel bad (and even when you don’t), expect a drabble here.
A/N: This will be a collection of drabbles, with different ships, or no ships at all. The chapters are not related to each other. At all. And Orihime might, or might not appear in each of them. But then again, she might. You might find that many of them are AU. Live to deal with that.
A/N the 2nd: Weird pairing, you say? What do you mean? Har, sarcasm, har. Hey, this plot bunny was a vicious, vicious beast. And Byakuya was just there waiting to be molested and bothered by Orihime’s general happiness. I think, if you don’t squint to look for romance, this makes one helluva crackfic. But that’s just me being narcissistic. Please note that the angst is because Byakuya was being a bothersome angst-muffin who wouldn’t let me be. I pushed me into the sadder part. Yeah? So. Whatever.
{Things Better Left Unsaid}
It’s heading towards night, and you’d rather be sleeping than trapped here, in this closet. You know you’re probably going to be trapped in here until someone who has the keys finds you. Well, at least it’s warm, even though you can feel that rainstorm coming. Rainstorms in the Soul Society are, from a scale from one to ten, on place twelve, which stands for utter-sheer-big-bitch.
You’re only glad you don’t have anything out in the rain. That way, you can laze about, until someone finds you. They’ll probably do that tomorrow. And you’ll probably get scolded for getting yourself into this mess. Feh. As if you haven’t scolded yourself enough by now. You don’t need their half-witted retorts. Tk.
At least you can breathe, and there’s light coming in through the cracks of the wooden doors. And is your stay like so, and squint your eyes like so, you’re able to see what’s happening outside the room. Office.
You think it’s an office, because it’s really full of office-things. Like…papers. You don’t like papers, papers are what those birds use as carpets and toilets in their golden cages. You’d take dirt and wood any day. Tonight, though, you get clothes as a bed. Clean clothes, which is a bonus. Maybe getting trapped in here isn’t that bad.
Eh. There’s someone outside. You tilt your head, and strain to hear what’s happening. There’s the tap,tap,tap of footsteps. Door opening.
“K-Kuchiki-san, good evening.” That one’s a girl.
“Good evening.” This one’s a man. The Man. The lord of this house. That little stuck-up prick you’ve seen prancing around like a Tom-cat.
“Um…is Rukia-san home?” Oh, she’s basically swallowing fear.
“No.” And he really is a bastard.
“I, um…I had made chicken soup.”
“Chicken soup.”
“Yeah. Yes. I didn’t know what to do, and I…well, made that. And I thought I’d share with Rukia-san.”
“Well. She’s not home.” Well, damn. It almost seems like he cares that he’s disappointing her. Impossible, you think.
“Right. So…” Silence. “So, how are you feeling, Kichiki-san?”
“Tired.” The tone is dry. It’s threatening. It should indicate that he wants her to leave, and he wants to sleep. But she doesn’t. She’s brave, and you like her already.
“Oh, are you still sick?”
“Sick? I was never sick.” Girl hit a sore spot.
“I mean, injured. Are you still injured?”
“I am out of the hospital, am I not?”
“Well yes, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.” The girl’s smart, got to give her that. “Oh, I know! Since I already made the chicken soup, and chicken soup is like a natural medicine, why don’t we eat it together?” Yep, bold and brave. And stupid.
“Natural medicine?”
“Yep. It cures everything, from common colds, to depression, and it stops the pain, because it’s really, really delicious.”
“Hm.”
“So…would you join me for some chicken soup, Kuchiki-sama?” Heh. You liked that. Polite and formal down to the toes. She’s good. He might actually take her on that offer.
“I would be honoured, Inoue-san.” See? Polite and formal down to the very last stick up his arse, but he said yes.
This is good. This is very good. They’re moving into the office adjacent to the closet you’re trapped in. You’re guessing that if you had some food with you, this would be dinner and a show. For now, you’ll take the show part.
They settle down, and the girl takes out plates and sets them properly on the table. She serves him first, and when he nods, she serves herself. They eat. She eats, he takes a swallow and his eyes widen. It’s amazement.
“Is there something wrong?” she asks.
“No, no. no, this is…your food is very good, Inoue-san.” He actually complimented her. Well, huh.
She’s surprised too, because she’s blushing now. Blushing, and stammering, but mumbling out a polite “thank you”. They eat in silence, and it looks comfortable, only not. The girl, Inoue-san, you remember, looks like she wants to ask something. To talk.
“Um, Kuchiki-san…have you…have you forgiven Rukia-san?”
Heh. He chokes on his soup. Very proper of him. “Forgiven for what?”
“Well, you must have been very upset, not to have helped her…she’s your sister, no?” Oh, girl’s got balls. She’s got them like no other.
“It wasn’t about being upset, it was about not interfering with the rules of the Society.”
“Hmm. I once heard in a movie, ‘I do not want to belong to this society. Yet this society doesn’t want to leave me be.’” You think being philosophical is better, because it actually works with the uber-brat better.
He’s lost at words. That’s a first. She’s put him in his place, and you can see he doesn’t like that. Really doesn’t like that.
“Then, if you weren’t upset at her, and did nothing to stop her execution, until the very last moment…has Rukia-san forgiven you?” Strike! Hole in one! Oh, he’s dead! She killed him with that question! Never mind the soft spot, this is like kicking the man in his metaphorical balls.
“I doubt that’s table material.” Prim, proper, highly wounded, ego-wise.
“Kuchiki-san…” You can’t believe she just poked his nose. You can’t believe she still conserves that finger. “You know, sometimes it helps. Talking…even with a stranger. Especially then, because said stranger will never, ever tell anyone else.”
“Really now?” Dry tone. Dangerous.
“Yes.”
“Is this therapy an attachment to the chicken soup menu, or does it cost me anything?”
“It’s more attached to the person bringing the chicken soup, than anything else. You know, if anything,” and now she’s getting ready to strike, “Kuchiki-san should respect his guests’ wish to talk, especially since said guest brought the food.” That had to hurt.
“I don’t think so.”
“I understand…I’m sorry to have--”
“No. It’s…the answer to your question. I don’t think she has forgiven me.”
“Oh. Do you want her to?”
“Yes.” That was quick. “Yes…it. It hurts, that she hasn’t.”
“Hm. Have you actually asked her, actually told her ‘I’m sorry’? Or did you just insinuate it?”
“I’m not good at apologizing.”
“Now’s a good time to start, I think. You need to have her as a sister. I…I had an older brother once. He died. He…I loved him very much. And the last day I saw him, the day he died, we had gotten really upset with one another. He left home, I think, thinking I hated him. After he died, I couldn’t live with the guilt. Thinking…thinking that he died mad at me.”
“What happened then?” His voice is softer.
“He came back. For a while. As a Hollow. And I…we had time, a little time, when the Hollow wasn’t in comand; and I told him I was sorry…and that I forgave him. And that I loved him. He killed himself…stabbed Ichigo-kun’s sword through his neck, but he was smiling. Smiling because we were okay.”
“Hn.”
“I…I don’t think, that if Shinigami die, they have a second chance, like that. So, you should really talk to Rukia-san. Get things straight. You’ll feel better afterwards.”
“Thank you. For the advice.”
She smiles. Smiles really really wide, expecting him to smile back. But he doesn’t seem to know how to do that anymore. So he tries, a bit, and it ends up in a grimace. But she seems happy anyway. They continue eating.
“So, why cherry blossoms?” she asks. Like you said, balls she has.
“I didn’t choose them, they chose me.”
“Was it difficult to control?”
“It was, at first, embarrassing. They were easier to control. The hard part came with trying to keep everyone from laughing and calling me a nancy-boy because my zanpakutou was made of cherry blossoms.”
“But it’s really strong. Strong and beautiful. Like Kuchiki-san.”
Oh, he does not know how to answer that. You can’t believe she said is, either. And neither can her, you think.
“If anything, we’re alike there. My powers are six faeries which come out from my hairpins.” She’s trying to mask that last slip of tongue. “It’s not very…imposing.”
“Yet it is intriguing. I’ve seen you healing, they’re very interesting, and they look powerful. Powerful, and interesting. Like you.” Oh, now it’s his turn to slip. You half wonder if there was something in the soup.
“Thank you.” She knows how to answer, though. That’s good. Safer. “Did…did they mark you?” Now she’s just plain obscene. You think.
“Yes.” And they leave it at that. Thank God.
“Mine won’t. They’re not a zanpakuto. Actually, no one really knows what they are. They draw the power from my heart. That might be why I can’t kill anyone.”
“That’s not a bad thing. It’s very noble. Dangerous, yes. Stupid, also. But noble.” He compliments again. Brat’s on a roll tonight!
“I guess Kuchiki-san knows a lot about being noble.” Huh. That joke’s not that funny. And yet they both laugh. Weird.
The soup is over soon, and Byakuya says she can leave the dishes here. It’s really dark outside, so, noble as he is, he offers to accompany her back to the 11th Division. You know it costs him to say that, because they’ll probably talk about this. Arrogant noble escorting young flower-girl home? That’s enough to feed the rumour mill for years.
Yet still. They stand up, and Byakuya opens the door, letting her pass through first. He guides her with a hand on her shoulder--hand which remains there seconds too long--, which you find odd, because you had him pegged as really asexual. They leave.
It’s dark now, and the air still threatens the arrival of the storm bitch, but it’s not like you care. You have a few things to mull on. Like how the rumour mill will blow up tomorrow. Or tonight. And how you’re the only one lucky enough--bless these closet doors for getting you stuck inside-- to know what really happened. You don’t know if you’d be willing to share it for free, though. Damn.
If cats could talk.
::end::
:
:
::she smiles whenever she sees a sakura tree in full blossom