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Ku-gatsu.
After his final tuxedo fitting, Ichigo went for a walk in the last of summer’s heat. He had been thinking about Rukia’s advice regarding Orihime, and decided that it was probably time that he put it into practice. Getting it out of the way before the wedding was most likely the best idea, in case there were hard feelings. Then they wouldn’t overshadow the actual event. He took out his cellphone and pulled up Orihime’s number.
“Hey, Orihime. Does the bride-to-be have time for coffee with me before I head back to the Soul Society? There’s a cafe close to the bridal shop, I could meet you there.” Ichigo nodded and smiled at Orihime’s enthusiastic agreement. “See you in an hour? Cool. Can’t wait.”
Ichigo took a train to the cafe and got a table outside. He was unsure of exactly what he was going to say. He didn’t want to depend on Orihime’s good nature smoothing this over.
He saw her walking up the sidewalk and experienced one of those dizzying perspective shifts he occasionally got. Orihime was no longer a clumsy, crush-stricken 15-year-old girl. She was a woman about to be married, and carried herself with a lot more dignity and a lot less dreaminess.
Ichigo wasn’t the only one who noticed how beautiful Orihime was. Heads turned as she passed and Ichigo fought down the irrational urge to punch every single person who was giving Orihime that smarmy, speculative look.
“Ichigo, hi!” Orihime called, and then all the speculative gazes were on him. He returned them with his most vicious glare, wishing he had Zangetsu with him.
“Orihime, you look great,” Ichigo said with total sincerity. She smiled at him.
“I’ve been told it’s a bridal glow,” she said brightly, and Ichigo grinned.
“I’d have to agree. You look radiant. What can I get you?” Ichigo ordered a couple of iced coffees and leaned back in his chair, wondering where to start.
“So, what’s the occasion?” Orihime asked after their drinks arrived. “You haven’t met me for coffee on my own in, well, ever.”
Ichigo was at a loss for words. He was unaccustomed to Orihime being this direct.
“I, uh, I wanted to apologize.”
“What for?” Orihime looked puzzled.
How to frame this? It wasn’t as if Ichigo hadn’t thought about what he’d say a million times or anything. Once Renji and Rukia had brought his attention to his past behavior, Ichigo had been using it like a club to beat himself with in terms of his sense of morality and code of ethics and anything else he could bring to the self-flagellation party. He took a deep breath.
“I want to apologize for all the times I unintentionally hurt you by being oblivious to your feelings towards me.”
Orihime’s eyebrows shot up and she continued to look confused.
“Feelings…?”
“When we were kids. When we were in high school,” Ichigo amended, and Orihime’s gaze cleared.
“Oh! But why are you apologizing now?”
“Well, because I just found out about it. Both Rukia and Renji made me aware of my behavior back then. When I thought about it, I could see how hard you tried not to be obvious, and how everyone but me noticed. In hindsight, I could see how you reacted every time I was casual with you, like I was with any of my other friends. You were hurt, and you covered it up, and I never noticed. I’m really sorry for that.”
Orihime nodded and said, “But why are you apologizing now?”
Her firmness surprised Ichigo. He had expected her to wave it away, say it was all right, or that it was in the past and why think about it.
“Rukia suggested it. She said I would always be your first love and it would be good if you could think about me without sadness or regret.”
Orihime looked down, stirring the cubes in her iced coffee. She started speaking, voice soft.
“When Ulquiorra kidnapped me, he told me I could say goodbye to only one person. I decided to say goodbye to you, and came to your room while you were asleep. It was after you’d been so badly beaten by Grimmjow, and you were covered in bandages. I held your hand and nearly kissed you.”
Ichigo couldn’t hide his shock. Orihime looked up, smiling slightly at his astonishment.
“But you didn’t?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“But why?” Ichigo thought that, if he’d have to give a secret goodbye to someone, he’d damn sure let them know he’d been there somehow.
“You’re such a guy, Ichigo,” Orihime laughed, which was disconcerting. He really did not know this very perceptive woman sitting across the table from him. Obviously what he would have done in that situation was clear as day. So he just gave her a shrug and a rueful smile.
“I didn’t do it because it wouldn’t have been real,” Orihime said. “If I was going to kiss you -- if we were going to kiss -- I wanted it to be because you were kissing me back.”
“I’m sorry,” Ichigo could only repeat.
Orihime’s smile grew a little sad.
“It did hurt, sometimes, the way you took me for granted until I needed rescuing. But after a while, I realized what I felt for you wasn’t love.”
Ichigo was surprised to feel a twinge of hurt at that. He really did want to have his cake and eat it too, didn’t he? He was such a jerk.
“What was it, then?”
“It was hero-worship. You’ve always been so strong and brave. You didn’t ever hesitate to protect me or anyone else. Watching Ulquiorra nearly kill you so many times so you could rescue me? How could I not find that admirable?”
“But you were always looking at Rukia. You were comfortable with her in a way I could tell you weren’t with me. She could yell at you and you’d let her, which I never could. I wasn’t the person you wanted, and I couldn’t ever become that person.” Orihime fixed Ichigo with a sharp look, odd to him, who was so used to her being indirect. “Plus you were just so oblivious, Ichigo. I probably could’ve done an interpretive dance naked while juggling flaming torches, singing a love song, and if Rukia was there, you would’ve looked right past me.”
And if that wasn’t an image to conjure with, Ichigo didn’t know what was.
“That’s, um. Vivid.” Ichigo said uncomfortably, feeling his cheeks grow hot.
“You should see your face!” Orihime giggled, sounding a bit more like her old self. Ichigo felt himself blush even harder.
“Anyway, after we graduated, you moved to the Soul Society and I hardly ever saw you unless you were visiting, and that was always in a group. So nothing had changed with you. But I had.”
“When did you and Uryuu start dating?”
“About a year after you left. I think we actually started earlier than that, but I just thought he was being a good friend. But one day we were out for a walk and he said,” Orihime deepened her voice to a laconic, exaggeratedly sarcastic tone, “‘Now that I am not being overshadowed by Kurosaki’s hero complex, I can tell you how I feel.’” Orihime folded her hands around her glass. “And he did.”
Ichigo couldn’t help but laugh at Orihime’s dead-on imitation of Uryuu.
“Well, he’s not wrong, I guess. But you’re happy? He makes you happy?”
Orihime wrinkled her nose at Ichigo.
“Even someone as unobservant as you can see that I’m happy. But more importantly, Uryuu wants to make me happy, and that makes all the difference in the world.”
“I’m glad. I’ve been angry at myself over this since I found out, even though I can’t change the past.”
“Did you want me to forgive you?”
“No. I wanted to apologize. If you feel like you can forgive me, then that’s great and it’s probably more than I deserve, but you certainly don’t have to.”
Orihime looked down and then back up at him, eyes dancing with suppressed mirth.
“You are so silly, Ichigo. I’ve already forgiven you.”
“You...have…?”
“There isn’t anything to forgive. Unless you want me to forgive you for being young and making mistakes. Which I do. Because we were all young and we all made mistakes.”
To say Ichigo was speechless was a vast understatement. He finally gathered his wits enough to say with heartfelt gratitude, “Thank you. Thanks, Orihime.”
“I’m glad we’re friends, Ichigo,” Orihime smiled at him, and was briefly the dizzy, sweet teenage girl Ichigo used to know.
“Me too, Orihime,” Ichigo said fervently. “Me too.”