Bleach fanfic, The Bride of the Death God 25 (bygone)
title: The Bride of the Death God chapter 25: bygone
author: caledon (the_tower_room)
pairing: Ichigo/Orihime, Renji/Rukia, various
rating: M
summary: AU. A plague descended upon the village, and to appease the God of Death, they offered him a bride as a sacrifice.
words: 3259
Watching the scene before her, Senna couldn't help gritting her teeth. Just the way the other gods fawn over this newcomer, offering their support and comfort-when that very person was the source of her own discontentment. It grated her to the very core, and she felt ignored and abandoned, discarded in much the same way the Death God had treated her.
She forced her cheeks to soften into a gentle smile, offering her own murmurs of concern for the tearful bride of her former lover, noting the still half-eaten apple in the auburn-haired's grasp. Should the bride renege on her promise to finish it, Senna was content that her gift had been accepted, more than satisfied that it had been partly consumed. She had other things to concentrate on, after all.
Soon, she thought, remembering what she had seen and heard through her magic mirror that seeded the idea of a plan in her mind. That day is coming. No regrets and no turning back, right, Grimmjow?
As the Goddess of Love and Fertility comforted the young woman, the crowd around them dispersed, Senna and Neliel returning to their previous spot.
"So, shall I speak to him for you?" asked the Goddess of Autumn, picking up their interrupted conversation where they had left off.
"Hmm?" Startled, the Goddess of Time gave her a wide-eyed look, half hopeful and half trapped. "Eh, I don't know. As you can see, even after thousands of years, Grimmjow still hasn't forgiven me for leaving him."
"You know that even he could not refuse a mandate from the Spirit King himself."
"I know."
"It's just not realistic for him to expect you to turn down a divine command."
"I know." Pursing her lips, the green-haired goddess reached up and tenderly ran her fingers through Senna's hair. "Being promoted to become the Messenger of the Sun God is a great honour that's bestowed to no one else, and there's no such thing as denying the Spirit King, otherwise we'll be calling forth our own demise. Is it selfish, do you think? Choosing to live so that I can still see him, watch him from above, even if we can't reach each other any longer? Even knowing he hates me for choosing duty over happiness?"
Senna reached up and held Neliel's hand in both her own. "It's an entrapment you can't escape from. You were faced with the option of either ceasing to exist altogether or remaining alive, you made the decision because at least, even when you're apart, like you said you can still see him whenever you want to."
"Do you love him?" asked the Goddess of Time, tone unreadable.
The purple-haired goddess sat back, hands still clasping Neliel's dropping to her lap. "What we have is a partnership; we have a mutual goal. We trust each other. Scorned woman as I am, others would likely see him as my rebound relationship. Do I love him? Do we love each other? I suppose you could say there's plenty of passion between us. Plenty of desire. Complex and unmitigated, and yet so simple and base and animalistic."
She let out a laugh, remembering his bite earlier that could have easily crushed her jugular.
We're using each other, Neliel. Is that what you want to know? What you had with him millennia ago isn't what we have. Grimmjow and I can never have that. That's not what's driving us together. I suppose you'll see for yourself soon why we have come to be together. But, perhaps, before everything happens to the point where they cannot unhappen, I can give you-
"Do you love him, Neliel?"
"Huh?"
"The Goddess of Love and Fertility is here. Perhaps you can strike a bargain with her for an aphrodisiac or a love philtre?"
"W-what?" Flabbergasted, the Goddess of Time stammered, retracting her hand from Senna's hold, unable to find words to voice protest or disbelief.
"To seduce Grimmjow-"
"-S-surely you jest, Senna-"
"At least something to make him stop avoiding you, make him sit still enough for him to listen to what you have to say."
"-Please-"
"Who knows when you'll have the chance again?"
In the other woman's eyes, Senna read hopefulness warring with desperation, fierce longing, fear-indubitable love and the desire for a reunion mixing with fright that even should this uncompromising impasse between her and her former lover could temporarily be bridged, his hatred for her would grow; he would find such an act to be beyond iniquitous that his forgiveness would forever be out of her reach.
The Goddess of Time closed her eyes, willed the arrhythmic tattoo of her heart to slow and steady down. Must Senna tempt me so? she asked herself. All these long years she had contented herself with serving the Spirit King, keeping her own feelings buried, simply become an automaton bound by duty and kept any thoughts of her former life and former love at a bare minimum. Now that she was back in the world the other gods resided in for an extra numbers of days, perhaps taking Senna's suggestion would be worthwhile. At least this time she could make the attempt to communicate with him. At least this time would be a change from the usual avoidance. Another thousand years, another million years...how much longer could she stand it? Should she dare?
Neliel had to admit that seeing the union between Senna and Grimmjow from her place in the sky had hurt at first, just as watching him spread his love thoughtlessly and carelessly all other times with a slew of different partners had hurt, yet she couldn't find herself looking away, considering being able to see him intimate with others as he used to be with her a kind of punishment, torturous wounds upon her heart that had lasted for so long that sometimes she felt as though it had become inexorably intertwined with her whole being.
"Please," whispered the green-haired goddess, softly, lacking conviction, lacking emotion. Even she couldn't tell whether it was an utterance of consent or surrender.
Orange eyes ran over her features, weighing the word. After seconds that lasted eternity those eyes finally released her, Senna bowing her head in acquiescence.
"As you wish, Neliel."
Orihime wondered if it was petulant to speculate if she was still dreaming everything that had been happening to her. Some time had passed, and the tear tracks down her cheeks had grown stiff and dry, and she heaved a tired exhale. With all the things she had been discovering, wouldn't it have been better, more comforting, that she had learned them from her husband himself? It seemed that lately there had been nothing between them but a rift that together they would repair only for it to come between them once again.
One hundred years, she thought. I'll be pregnant for that long. It was an unfathomable number; a number that, even when she was alive, was beyond comprehension because no human had ever lived that long.
She felt a pang in her chest, acute with sharp longing for something she could never have again.
What am I going to do, Tatsuki? What would Sora say? How am I supposed to explain to anyone that in the span of my pregnancy, other women would have had gone through having their own children and grandchildren and even great-grandchildren. People in the village, in my old life...they would all have passed away before the time I'd ever give birth...isn't that just strange?
It's almost cruel, isn't it, Tatsuki? One hundred years is a very long life for someone like me while you...you never had a chance to even be presented with the opportunity to live longer and experience having your own family.
With one last sniff she closed her eyes and leaned further into the embrace of the goddess, hearing beneath her ear the steady pulse of Rangiku's heart, feeling beneath her cheek the warmth of Rangiku's skin.
Orihime felt she was still that sacrifice offered by the village seemingly so long ago. Just as she had accepted that fate, just as she had accepted the hatred and gift of amendment of the Goddess of Autumn, just as she had accepted the love of the God of Death, just as she had accepted that those lives in Karakura were forever lost, she would also accept this term of one hundred years, this sentence of being the bearer of a future god. Hadn't she decided on this child and the rest of her life to be the memorial to her former life just three days ago?
For Tatsuki, for my brother, for Karakura, for the love I have for Ichigo, I will bear this. My promise\.
On this decision she finally opened her eyes, becalmed, resolute, and feeling just a little bit drained.
From her periphery as she looked above the trees had grown farther apart, making room for more view of the sky, noticing that the river was widening, flowing out into a large lake surrounded by small mountains. In the midst of it, she could see an island, centred by flowing hills, lush with greenery and great stones. Blocks of buildings blended with the foliage, harmonious in their designs, and among the columns evenly scattered where the island met the water were multitudes of statues. Flora of all colour lay at the effigies' feet, never rising to entwine about the figures as though some sort of unspoken law barred them.
For a moment, Orihime felt as though she was back at the house of the Death God or even back at the cemetery of Karakura. There was only the air of stillness and silence, reminding her of what had come to be home for her.
Her tears and fears seemed to have slipped away from her at that thought, and she felt Rangiku's arms loosened around her, the goddess releasing a sigh, or it might have been the whisper of a name passing her lips. The goddess turned away and rose, giving Orihime a smile that did not reach her blue eyes, and strode towards a Scribe with a tray of goblets upon his hands to take comfort with the contents of a cup.
Puzzled, and more than a little curious, Orihime rose as well and turned back to view the island.
"This is where the Council of the Seasons is always held," explained the God of Knowledge as he came to stand beside her. He swept his arm out. "Behold the Isle of Memory. It holds within the mundane data of weather and schedules for storms and sunny days, the great library of the oldest stories told of the gods, the home to the Scribes, and most importantly, the resting place of all the gods that have passed."
Sharply, at the last, Orihime turned to face him, breath held in her chest, the thought of this adding to the list of things difficult to comprehend that had been bombarding her. "A-are you saying this island is also a graveyard?"
Shrewd grey eyes glanced sidelong at her as the god fanned himself. "The statues." He indicated with his other hand. "That's what we become when our time is sundered."
As the boat closed the gap, Orihime could make out that not all the statues have uniform human shapes. Some of them were twisted in some sort of half-human half-animal amalgamation.
Become? They are not quite monuments for their dead, then, realized Orihime. They themselves are the dead. Sadness filled her heart as her gaze roamed over the still, pale figures, standing like stone angels, their own gravestones and graves. Even so, as with the cemetery in Karakura, she was struck by an absolute sense of emptiness.
A question formed in her mind, and she couldn't help voicing it out. "What happens afterwards?"
"Hmm? What do you mean?"
"When a god dies, what becomes of his power?"
"He loses it, of course. He has become nothing. I've seen the process myself, been fortunate enough to study it, and I must admit it that if you were to witness it yourself, it would not be an agreeable experience. You see, his bones and his power liquefy, excretes from his mouth and covers his whole body, hardens around him like a shell, and you see before you all that's left. There is no after. We sense them disappear from our lives. Even the God of Death doesn't know what happens to a human's soul after he had performed konso; even less so when he does the same to a fellow god and brings them here." Sighing out a small laugh, Urahara covered his mouth with his fan. "Strange that for all my curiosity, I haven't mustered the courage to know what exactly lay beyond the death of gods. I would find out eventually anyway, when I die. But somehow, 'nothingness' seems to be the only answer that comes to mind."
Nothingness. Emptiness. 'There is no after,' Kisuke had said. What a strange dichotomy to contemplate: on the one hand she had been overwhelmed with the discovery that she would spend the next hundred years housing a life within her body, and on the other she was presented with what would become of her in the future.
Death. There was a tug against her heartstrings, and in her heart amidst the sadness there blossomed elation and relief, and she sensed a presence, a power, that she had been longing to feel since yesterday. Ichigo! I-is he really there? She could barely contain the excited thrum that pervaded her being at the thought of seeing him again.
Much to Orihime's relief, the boat finally halted against a great dock on the side of the island, the gods of the seasons disembarking and making their way to the winding path of stone stairs that led to the atrium where their council with the Goddess of Time was to be held.
"Would you like to see the island, madam?" The God of Invention and Knowledge offered his hand, one foot already on the dock.
Is it alright? Aren't we supposed to go to the mortal world? wondered Orihime, glancing around at the remaining passengers. Rangiku, for once, was reserved, sitting in a corner with her gaze away from the island, not even bothering to flirt with Hisagi. Rukia and Renji have already followed after the other gods, taking a road opposite towards the statues.
As though he had read the questions foremost in her mind, the tow-headed god winked. "We have plenty of time to reach our destination, so a visit here would not be harmful. And I'm sure you've already sensed something worthwhile to find here."
At that, Orihime's pulse jumped, and accepting the confirmation of the presence she had felt, took the god's proffered hand and allowed herself to be led away.
His sharp claws dug deeply into his palms as he clenched his fists. Ichigo knew that he should know better; that he ought to be more in control of himself. But, after the harrowing events of the past couple of days, he couldn't help the immeasurable longing and fear that gripped him, especially after the message the God of Invention and Knowledge had sent him of the journey the other gods would take today with Orihime and whom else would join their company.
A glimpse-a small, far away, glimpse of Orihime-that was all his heart wanted. He had to know she was safe. Even the knowledge that Neliel-as an important ambassador of the Spirit King and therefore would be primary witness should Senna mete out any harm or foul to Orihime and was allowed to act as judge against the gods-was going to be there was not enough to alleviate his worry.
His mask in place, his long orange hair swayed with the cool breeze, and with an implacable expression greeted the gods of seasons as they ascended the stairs. He felt his heart almost stop at the sight of Neliel happily skipping hand in hand with Senna.
"Ichigo!" exclaimed the Goddess of Time, waving exuberantly as she released Senna and ran all the way up to throw her arms around him, laughing gaily and girlishly all the while.
"Neliel." He gave a nod in greeting, and she wiggled her finger at him disapprovingly as she stood back.
"Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
"How are my sisters?"
"You're not even going to ask about me? How rude."
"I can see for myself that you seem to be doing well."
Pursing her lips, she curled her fist and playfully knocked on his masked forehead. "I would congratulate you, but I would have to say that with that kind of attitude it's a wonder that your bride agreed to marry you at all." Leaning in, she jabbed her elbow at his side and whispered, "I like Orihime, by the way. Well, since you're here, I might as well go through with the formalities." She straightened herself and cleared her throat. "By the order of our supreme Sun God, I am charged with cordially inviting your bride to his presence in the sky. Do you accept?"
Ichigo couldn't help swallowing. Here it comes, another separation, he thought. But then, there were no other place safest from any kind of harm than the realm of the Spirit King, and if he could keep Orihime as far away from Senna as possible, even it was far away from Ichigo's own self, then he would readily accept.
"The Spirit King greatly honours us, and I accede to this invitation." His yellow-on-black eyes drew away from the Messenger to the figure a little behind her, facing the Autumn Goddess's amused challenge.
"Wonderful," said Neliel with a clap, making her way down to clasp arms with solemn Byakuya and serious Toushiro to lead them back up to their destination. "Come, all. We'll see you later, then, Ichigo."
"What, no love for me, Neliel?" asked the Kyouraku with an exaggerated pout, nodding to the Death God as he passed by.
"I only have two arms, God of Summer. You'll have to make do on your own, I'm afraid."
Their voices faded as their banter continued up the stairs, leaving the God of Death and the Goddess of Autumn alone.
With a mocking curtsey, Senna reached into her basket and produced a blood red apple. "My wedding gift," she said, ascending so that she stood on the same step as him.
With the fruit still in her hand, she continued, "I've made amends with your bride, if you must know, and she had accepted my gift and offer of friendship. You should have seen how readily she ate the apple I gave her. You can sense for yourself, can you not? That she's alive and unharmed?" Chuckling at his prolonged lack of response, she faced forward and kept on heading up the steps, and he turned, watching the sway of her hips and the graceful curve of her back as her figure headed up.
Something inside him remained suspended in suspicion and fear, still and watchful even as she threw the apple over her shoulder.
Despite himself, he caught the fruit in midair, then immediately dropped it as his mere touch seemed to seep the life out it, watching it shrink and rot at his feet, leaving behind only a dead and decayed core.
What kind of a gift is that?
Wait-Orihime had accepted this?
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previous chapter | next chapter
author: caledon (the_tower_room)
pairing: Ichigo/Orihime, Renji/Rukia, various
rating: M
summary: AU. A plague descended upon the village, and to appease the God of Death, they offered him a bride as a sacrifice.
words: 3259
Watching the scene before her, Senna couldn't help gritting her teeth. Just the way the other gods fawn over this newcomer, offering their support and comfort-when that very person was the source of her own discontentment. It grated her to the very core, and she felt ignored and abandoned, discarded in much the same way the Death God had treated her.
She forced her cheeks to soften into a gentle smile, offering her own murmurs of concern for the tearful bride of her former lover, noting the still half-eaten apple in the auburn-haired's grasp. Should the bride renege on her promise to finish it, Senna was content that her gift had been accepted, more than satisfied that it had been partly consumed. She had other things to concentrate on, after all.
Soon, she thought, remembering what she had seen and heard through her magic mirror that seeded the idea of a plan in her mind. That day is coming. No regrets and no turning back, right, Grimmjow?
As the Goddess of Love and Fertility comforted the young woman, the crowd around them dispersed, Senna and Neliel returning to their previous spot.
"So, shall I speak to him for you?" asked the Goddess of Autumn, picking up their interrupted conversation where they had left off.
"Hmm?" Startled, the Goddess of Time gave her a wide-eyed look, half hopeful and half trapped. "Eh, I don't know. As you can see, even after thousands of years, Grimmjow still hasn't forgiven me for leaving him."
"You know that even he could not refuse a mandate from the Spirit King himself."
"I know."
"It's just not realistic for him to expect you to turn down a divine command."
"I know." Pursing her lips, the green-haired goddess reached up and tenderly ran her fingers through Senna's hair. "Being promoted to become the Messenger of the Sun God is a great honour that's bestowed to no one else, and there's no such thing as denying the Spirit King, otherwise we'll be calling forth our own demise. Is it selfish, do you think? Choosing to live so that I can still see him, watch him from above, even if we can't reach each other any longer? Even knowing he hates me for choosing duty over happiness?"
Senna reached up and held Neliel's hand in both her own. "It's an entrapment you can't escape from. You were faced with the option of either ceasing to exist altogether or remaining alive, you made the decision because at least, even when you're apart, like you said you can still see him whenever you want to."
"Do you love him?" asked the Goddess of Time, tone unreadable.
The purple-haired goddess sat back, hands still clasping Neliel's dropping to her lap. "What we have is a partnership; we have a mutual goal. We trust each other. Scorned woman as I am, others would likely see him as my rebound relationship. Do I love him? Do we love each other? I suppose you could say there's plenty of passion between us. Plenty of desire. Complex and unmitigated, and yet so simple and base and animalistic."
She let out a laugh, remembering his bite earlier that could have easily crushed her jugular.
We're using each other, Neliel. Is that what you want to know? What you had with him millennia ago isn't what we have. Grimmjow and I can never have that. That's not what's driving us together. I suppose you'll see for yourself soon why we have come to be together. But, perhaps, before everything happens to the point where they cannot unhappen, I can give you-
"Do you love him, Neliel?"
"Huh?"
"The Goddess of Love and Fertility is here. Perhaps you can strike a bargain with her for an aphrodisiac or a love philtre?"
"W-what?" Flabbergasted, the Goddess of Time stammered, retracting her hand from Senna's hold, unable to find words to voice protest or disbelief.
"To seduce Grimmjow-"
"-S-surely you jest, Senna-"
"At least something to make him stop avoiding you, make him sit still enough for him to listen to what you have to say."
"-Please-"
"Who knows when you'll have the chance again?"
In the other woman's eyes, Senna read hopefulness warring with desperation, fierce longing, fear-indubitable love and the desire for a reunion mixing with fright that even should this uncompromising impasse between her and her former lover could temporarily be bridged, his hatred for her would grow; he would find such an act to be beyond iniquitous that his forgiveness would forever be out of her reach.
The Goddess of Time closed her eyes, willed the arrhythmic tattoo of her heart to slow and steady down. Must Senna tempt me so? she asked herself. All these long years she had contented herself with serving the Spirit King, keeping her own feelings buried, simply become an automaton bound by duty and kept any thoughts of her former life and former love at a bare minimum. Now that she was back in the world the other gods resided in for an extra numbers of days, perhaps taking Senna's suggestion would be worthwhile. At least this time she could make the attempt to communicate with him. At least this time would be a change from the usual avoidance. Another thousand years, another million years...how much longer could she stand it? Should she dare?
Neliel had to admit that seeing the union between Senna and Grimmjow from her place in the sky had hurt at first, just as watching him spread his love thoughtlessly and carelessly all other times with a slew of different partners had hurt, yet she couldn't find herself looking away, considering being able to see him intimate with others as he used to be with her a kind of punishment, torturous wounds upon her heart that had lasted for so long that sometimes she felt as though it had become inexorably intertwined with her whole being.
"Please," whispered the green-haired goddess, softly, lacking conviction, lacking emotion. Even she couldn't tell whether it was an utterance of consent or surrender.
Orange eyes ran over her features, weighing the word. After seconds that lasted eternity those eyes finally released her, Senna bowing her head in acquiescence.
"As you wish, Neliel."
Orihime wondered if it was petulant to speculate if she was still dreaming everything that had been happening to her. Some time had passed, and the tear tracks down her cheeks had grown stiff and dry, and she heaved a tired exhale. With all the things she had been discovering, wouldn't it have been better, more comforting, that she had learned them from her husband himself? It seemed that lately there had been nothing between them but a rift that together they would repair only for it to come between them once again.
One hundred years, she thought. I'll be pregnant for that long. It was an unfathomable number; a number that, even when she was alive, was beyond comprehension because no human had ever lived that long.
She felt a pang in her chest, acute with sharp longing for something she could never have again.
What am I going to do, Tatsuki? What would Sora say? How am I supposed to explain to anyone that in the span of my pregnancy, other women would have had gone through having their own children and grandchildren and even great-grandchildren. People in the village, in my old life...they would all have passed away before the time I'd ever give birth...isn't that just strange?
It's almost cruel, isn't it, Tatsuki? One hundred years is a very long life for someone like me while you...you never had a chance to even be presented with the opportunity to live longer and experience having your own family.
With one last sniff she closed her eyes and leaned further into the embrace of the goddess, hearing beneath her ear the steady pulse of Rangiku's heart, feeling beneath her cheek the warmth of Rangiku's skin.
Orihime felt she was still that sacrifice offered by the village seemingly so long ago. Just as she had accepted that fate, just as she had accepted the hatred and gift of amendment of the Goddess of Autumn, just as she had accepted the love of the God of Death, just as she had accepted that those lives in Karakura were forever lost, she would also accept this term of one hundred years, this sentence of being the bearer of a future god. Hadn't she decided on this child and the rest of her life to be the memorial to her former life just three days ago?
For Tatsuki, for my brother, for Karakura, for the love I have for Ichigo, I will bear this. My promise\.
On this decision she finally opened her eyes, becalmed, resolute, and feeling just a little bit drained.
From her periphery as she looked above the trees had grown farther apart, making room for more view of the sky, noticing that the river was widening, flowing out into a large lake surrounded by small mountains. In the midst of it, she could see an island, centred by flowing hills, lush with greenery and great stones. Blocks of buildings blended with the foliage, harmonious in their designs, and among the columns evenly scattered where the island met the water were multitudes of statues. Flora of all colour lay at the effigies' feet, never rising to entwine about the figures as though some sort of unspoken law barred them.
For a moment, Orihime felt as though she was back at the house of the Death God or even back at the cemetery of Karakura. There was only the air of stillness and silence, reminding her of what had come to be home for her.
Her tears and fears seemed to have slipped away from her at that thought, and she felt Rangiku's arms loosened around her, the goddess releasing a sigh, or it might have been the whisper of a name passing her lips. The goddess turned away and rose, giving Orihime a smile that did not reach her blue eyes, and strode towards a Scribe with a tray of goblets upon his hands to take comfort with the contents of a cup.
Puzzled, and more than a little curious, Orihime rose as well and turned back to view the island.
"This is where the Council of the Seasons is always held," explained the God of Knowledge as he came to stand beside her. He swept his arm out. "Behold the Isle of Memory. It holds within the mundane data of weather and schedules for storms and sunny days, the great library of the oldest stories told of the gods, the home to the Scribes, and most importantly, the resting place of all the gods that have passed."
Sharply, at the last, Orihime turned to face him, breath held in her chest, the thought of this adding to the list of things difficult to comprehend that had been bombarding her. "A-are you saying this island is also a graveyard?"
Shrewd grey eyes glanced sidelong at her as the god fanned himself. "The statues." He indicated with his other hand. "That's what we become when our time is sundered."
As the boat closed the gap, Orihime could make out that not all the statues have uniform human shapes. Some of them were twisted in some sort of half-human half-animal amalgamation.
Become? They are not quite monuments for their dead, then, realized Orihime. They themselves are the dead. Sadness filled her heart as her gaze roamed over the still, pale figures, standing like stone angels, their own gravestones and graves. Even so, as with the cemetery in Karakura, she was struck by an absolute sense of emptiness.
A question formed in her mind, and she couldn't help voicing it out. "What happens afterwards?"
"Hmm? What do you mean?"
"When a god dies, what becomes of his power?"
"He loses it, of course. He has become nothing. I've seen the process myself, been fortunate enough to study it, and I must admit it that if you were to witness it yourself, it would not be an agreeable experience. You see, his bones and his power liquefy, excretes from his mouth and covers his whole body, hardens around him like a shell, and you see before you all that's left. There is no after. We sense them disappear from our lives. Even the God of Death doesn't know what happens to a human's soul after he had performed konso; even less so when he does the same to a fellow god and brings them here." Sighing out a small laugh, Urahara covered his mouth with his fan. "Strange that for all my curiosity, I haven't mustered the courage to know what exactly lay beyond the death of gods. I would find out eventually anyway, when I die. But somehow, 'nothingness' seems to be the only answer that comes to mind."
Nothingness. Emptiness. 'There is no after,' Kisuke had said. What a strange dichotomy to contemplate: on the one hand she had been overwhelmed with the discovery that she would spend the next hundred years housing a life within her body, and on the other she was presented with what would become of her in the future.
Death. There was a tug against her heartstrings, and in her heart amidst the sadness there blossomed elation and relief, and she sensed a presence, a power, that she had been longing to feel since yesterday. Ichigo! I-is he really there? She could barely contain the excited thrum that pervaded her being at the thought of seeing him again.
Much to Orihime's relief, the boat finally halted against a great dock on the side of the island, the gods of the seasons disembarking and making their way to the winding path of stone stairs that led to the atrium where their council with the Goddess of Time was to be held.
"Would you like to see the island, madam?" The God of Invention and Knowledge offered his hand, one foot already on the dock.
Is it alright? Aren't we supposed to go to the mortal world? wondered Orihime, glancing around at the remaining passengers. Rangiku, for once, was reserved, sitting in a corner with her gaze away from the island, not even bothering to flirt with Hisagi. Rukia and Renji have already followed after the other gods, taking a road opposite towards the statues.
As though he had read the questions foremost in her mind, the tow-headed god winked. "We have plenty of time to reach our destination, so a visit here would not be harmful. And I'm sure you've already sensed something worthwhile to find here."
At that, Orihime's pulse jumped, and accepting the confirmation of the presence she had felt, took the god's proffered hand and allowed herself to be led away.
His sharp claws dug deeply into his palms as he clenched his fists. Ichigo knew that he should know better; that he ought to be more in control of himself. But, after the harrowing events of the past couple of days, he couldn't help the immeasurable longing and fear that gripped him, especially after the message the God of Invention and Knowledge had sent him of the journey the other gods would take today with Orihime and whom else would join their company.
A glimpse-a small, far away, glimpse of Orihime-that was all his heart wanted. He had to know she was safe. Even the knowledge that Neliel-as an important ambassador of the Spirit King and therefore would be primary witness should Senna mete out any harm or foul to Orihime and was allowed to act as judge against the gods-was going to be there was not enough to alleviate his worry.
His mask in place, his long orange hair swayed with the cool breeze, and with an implacable expression greeted the gods of seasons as they ascended the stairs. He felt his heart almost stop at the sight of Neliel happily skipping hand in hand with Senna.
"Ichigo!" exclaimed the Goddess of Time, waving exuberantly as she released Senna and ran all the way up to throw her arms around him, laughing gaily and girlishly all the while.
"Neliel." He gave a nod in greeting, and she wiggled her finger at him disapprovingly as she stood back.
"Is that any way to greet an old friend?"
"How are my sisters?"
"You're not even going to ask about me? How rude."
"I can see for myself that you seem to be doing well."
Pursing her lips, she curled her fist and playfully knocked on his masked forehead. "I would congratulate you, but I would have to say that with that kind of attitude it's a wonder that your bride agreed to marry you at all." Leaning in, she jabbed her elbow at his side and whispered, "I like Orihime, by the way. Well, since you're here, I might as well go through with the formalities." She straightened herself and cleared her throat. "By the order of our supreme Sun God, I am charged with cordially inviting your bride to his presence in the sky. Do you accept?"
Ichigo couldn't help swallowing. Here it comes, another separation, he thought. But then, there were no other place safest from any kind of harm than the realm of the Spirit King, and if he could keep Orihime as far away from Senna as possible, even it was far away from Ichigo's own self, then he would readily accept.
"The Spirit King greatly honours us, and I accede to this invitation." His yellow-on-black eyes drew away from the Messenger to the figure a little behind her, facing the Autumn Goddess's amused challenge.
"Wonderful," said Neliel with a clap, making her way down to clasp arms with solemn Byakuya and serious Toushiro to lead them back up to their destination. "Come, all. We'll see you later, then, Ichigo."
"What, no love for me, Neliel?" asked the Kyouraku with an exaggerated pout, nodding to the Death God as he passed by.
"I only have two arms, God of Summer. You'll have to make do on your own, I'm afraid."
Their voices faded as their banter continued up the stairs, leaving the God of Death and the Goddess of Autumn alone.
With a mocking curtsey, Senna reached into her basket and produced a blood red apple. "My wedding gift," she said, ascending so that she stood on the same step as him.
With the fruit still in her hand, she continued, "I've made amends with your bride, if you must know, and she had accepted my gift and offer of friendship. You should have seen how readily she ate the apple I gave her. You can sense for yourself, can you not? That she's alive and unharmed?" Chuckling at his prolonged lack of response, she faced forward and kept on heading up the steps, and he turned, watching the sway of her hips and the graceful curve of her back as her figure headed up.
Something inside him remained suspended in suspicion and fear, still and watchful even as she threw the apple over her shoulder.
Despite himself, he caught the fruit in midair, then immediately dropped it as his mere touch seemed to seep the life out it, watching it shrink and rot at his feet, leaving behind only a dead and decayed core.
What kind of a gift is that?
Wait-Orihime had accepted this?
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