[188] Blue (Bleach)

[isamikodakas]

Title: Blue

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: Inoue Orihime/Matsumoto Rangiku

Rating: General Audiences

Prompt: Blue

Word Count: 450

Summary: Orihime ruminates on living in Soul Society.

Blue is the color of trust, of confidence, of heaven. Blue is the color of Matsumoto Rangiku’s eyes beneath the soft golden curl of her lashes.

 

Soul Society is a world without any industry, without any mechanics to fill the sky with smog and without strong enough lights to choke the stars out of the sky. On lonely nights like this one, Inoue Orihime finds herself perched on the roof of the barracks of the Tenth Division, her back resting against the roofing as she stares up at the sky. Tonight the moon is full and hangs fat and heavy in the sky, soft silver light filtering onto the Seireitei. It was something she was never able to notice when they invaded in a desperate attempt to save Rukia.

 

It makes me think of Hueco Mundo and Las Noches and her lonely, lonely room there.

 

Coming to the Seireitei feels like both the best choice and the only choice, the one location where she can sleep without nightmares of poison green eyes and sand that crumbles between her fingertips a hair’s breadth away. Somewhere to mend her wounded heart and reassure herself that she has a place in one of the four worlds with or without Kurosaki Ichigo.

 

“Orihime!” The familiar voice of the lieutenant— her lieutenant, she reminds herself tersely— has her raising her head minutely from the rooftop. “What are you doing out here alone?”

 

“Thinking, Matsumoto-san.” Orihime lays her head back down, stares up at the sky.

 

“Rangiku, remember.” Rangiku sits down next to her, one knee drawn up to her chest, and glances up at the sky before sighing softly. “It’s a cold night. You should come in.”

 

“Maybe,” Orihime hedges, but she makes no move to stand up.

 

She can feel those eyes— beautiful and blue and like the ocean, like the sky, like the impossible and nonexistent line between them— resting on her before Rangiku’s hand thrusts into her peripheral vision. “Come on. We can share a drink or two.”

 

“You know I’m a lightweight.” Orihime sits up and takes her hand, and she feels safe with this woman, accepting her touch and the warmth in her smile.

 

Rangiku winks. “I won’t let you drink too much, I swear.” She means it; Orihime knows she does.

 

Hitsugaya will chastise them for drinking so late at night when they have headaches in the morning and Orihime will still be hopelessly behind the other members of the Tenth Division as she hones her abilities into something she can use in battle, but Rangiku’s hand is warm in hers and she laces her fingers with Orihime’s without a moment of hesitation.

 

A balm for her wounded heart.