Heart Break

(Warning - Angst)

Yasaka beamed, she was having a great time.

It was one of those all too rare moments where both she and Ichigo had a full day off and could go on a genuine date. Wanting to escape all the chaos of the Supernatural, they had decided to go out for an afternoon on the human side of Kyoto. After a delightful lunch, where she had some of the most wonderful eggplant Agebitashi, she and Ichigo had decided to walk down the crowded streets and do some window shopping. Well, window shopping until she found the right store to use her husband’s debit card. What? She liked shopping! And it was a wife's right to abu - ahem - use her husband's money! Regardless, it was turning into the perfect afternoon.

Until someone called his name.

“...Ichigo?”

The sound froze him and Yasaka felt the subtle shift immediately; his muscles went rigid beneath his coat, and his step halted mid-stride. She turned, curious, only to find two young women staring at them with wide and uncertain eyes. The shorter one’s smile appeared bright, but Yasaka was surprised to note a brittleness in it. There was something… forced? The other young woman, soft and gentle-eyed with long auburn hair, looked at her husband with an expression that made Yasaka instinctively uncomfortable.

She had seen many, too many really, women swoon infatuated with her husband. But this young lady… that look in her eyes, there was no mistaking it. Longing… and dare she say, even a touch of love?

“…Tatsuki? Inoue?” Ichigo asked, hints of wonder and caution coloring his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Old friends, she realized. And Yasaka knows all to well what her husband thought of old friends. But even if she didn’t know his history, his posture, taut with discomfort, told her all she needed to know. Yasaka tilted her head ever so slightly, observing; a brief glint of concern coloring her golden eyes.

The one called Tatsuki spoke first, with a touch of eager hopefulness. “We-we’re on break from college. We decided to tour Kyoto for vacation, do some shopping,” she raised some bags to show, “I-we, didn’t expect to run into you… here,” the sentence came out with a sense of muted joy. If she didn’t know any better, Yasaka would think the young woman was trying to keep herself from being happy. As if she shouldn’t be talking to him all.

Ichigo rolled his jaw. “I see...”

Silence pressed heavy, and Yasaka could immediately feel the unease growing around the four of them. And again, her eyes flickered over to the other one; the quiet one drinking in the sight of her husband with a faint flush on her cheeks. A flicker of ire passed through Yasaka as she gave the young woman a glare. Which went totally ignored with how enamored - what was her name, Inoue? - was with her husband. Yasaka’s hands clenched.

Tatsuki too paid her no heed, her attention fully on Ichigo. “So… how-how have you been?”

“Good.”

And Yasaka had to blink at the sheer ice her husband managed to put into that one word. Silently she congratulated him. While he was being obviously rude with his laconic replies and terse tone, Yasaka supported him, nonetheless. And why wouldn’t she? She was his wife! She stood by her man!

That being said, she couldn’t help but throw him a worried glance. She didn’t ever want Ichigo to be forced into a scenario where he was so obviously uncomfortable as he was now. Thus, she set her mind on how to quickly end this awkward meeting that was distressing her husband so.

“That-that’s good,” Tatsuki’s voice slightly faltering in face of Ichigo’s blatant coldness. “Still at Tokyo University?” Tatsuki pressed, her smile dimming.

Ichigo’s shoulders shifted. “Switched to online courses,” he answered in a clipped tone. And Yasaka’s patience had fully run out. Not only were these two clearly making the man she loved incredibly upset, but they actually had the audacity to outright ignore her! She had been standing here, awkwardly, with neither of them having the decency to even address her presence! Honestly, she was somewhat glad these rude people were out of his life now.

With deliberate grace, Yasaka tossed her golden hair over her shoulder. The motion was enough to draw both women’s eyes to her.

“Oh!” Tatsuki flushed. “I’m sorry, we were so caught up with suddenly meeting Ichigo… we didn’t even ask who you were. My name is Arisawa Tatsuki, pleased to meet you.”

“Ah,” the other one let out a startled noise as she finally tore her eyes off her husband, “I apologize, my name is Inoue Orihime, very pleased to meet you.”

“Are you-are you a friend with Ichigo?” Tatsuki asked hesitantly.

Yasaka smiled sweetly, sliding her arms around Ichigo’s and pulling him close, pressing her head against his shoulder. Her Kitsune heart thrilled at the subtle stiffening of Orihime’s expression and the crack in her composure.

“I’m his wife,” Yasaka said, her voice dripping honey and steel.

The words landed like crushing metal. Tatsuki, her eyes widened, shock and disbelief coloring her expression. And the other, the one who had been staring lovestruck at her husband looked utterly stricken.  

Yasaka snorted internally as her suspicion hardened into certainty. Inoue was in love with her husband… the sheer nerve of the little bitch.

Tatsuki stammered as she turned flabbergasted towards Ichigo, “Y-you got married? I didn’t-”

“It was a small, private ceremony,” Yasaka said smoothly, her smile never faltering. “Just family and close friends only. Very intimate.”

Which was an outright lie, on her part. It had not been intimate. It had been a grand and momentous wedding, with much fanfare. Numerous great beings and legendary figures had attended, all by design, of course. Though, Ichigo’s family had not been there; he had made the decision to keep his human sisters away and uninvolved from the Underworld.

But Yasaka’s misdirection had nothing to do with preserving the secrecy of the greater Supernatual world, and everything to do to with not so subtly letting these two know what they now were in Ichigo’s life: that is to say, inconsequential.

“And how do you know my ~hus-band~?” Yasaka asked innocently, making sure to draw out the ‘husband’ with a slight, musical touch.

Tatsuki opened her mouth to respond, but Ichigo swiftly cut her off, answering with curt brevity. “Tatsuki and I used to take karate together. Inoue went to the same high school as us.”

His words made it sound like they had been nothing more than mere acquaintances, people brought together by mere circumstance. And she quickly realized that he was setting firm boundaries and creating distance between them.

Tatsuki looked pained and Inoue’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, both recoiled as if struck. And yet, Yasaka watched and felt no pity for either of them.

In the dark of their bedroom, during intimate pillow talk, he had confided in her of those miserable years between losing his powers and falling into the hands of the Crimson Lucifer; of the loneliness, of the depression, of the soffocating feelings of abandonment that had drowned his soul. These were the friends who had kept away, who had willingly turned away without a word. Now they stood before him with hope and love in their eyes? As if they could smile and trade words like the past had never happened?

Hell no, not while Yasaka drew breath.

“It’s been lovely meeting old acquaintances,” Yasaka said, still sweet, still so obviously fake. “But my husband and I are busy today. Perhaps we’ll meet another day?”

And without another word, she turned, tugging Ichigo alongside her. He did not resist. Hastily muttering a firm ‘sayonara’ as he turned with her.

They walked away wordlessly, without looking back. And as Yasaka gave her full attention to him, she felt his sorrow bleeding through the air between them. She tightened her grip on his arm. Sometimes, it was easy to forget just how young her husband was. Barely two decades, and he had been through so much, and with little support from those around him at that too.

But that was a thing of the past. He had her now. And they were husband and wife: loyal, loving and supportive of one another. She lowered her arm and deftly threaded her fingers through his, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. “Would you like to go home and rest?” she asked softly.

He gave her a small smile, fragile, aching. Gingerly he raised their conjoined hands and placed a lingering kiss on the back of hers. “I just want to be with you.”

Her heart burned with a protective ache. She leaned close, tiptoeing to kiss him firmly; a gentle and strong reminder that he was hers and she was his. “Like sunshine after rain,” she whispered against his lips, invoking another shared favorite line of theirs from Shakespeare.

-----

Tatsuki stood rooted, watching her oldest friend walk away with a stranger who called herself his wife. Her chest twisted in on itself with a sharp ache. Ichigo? Married? That brash kid who fell flustered whenever the topic of anything remotely romantic came up? When? How?

Then she saw it: a kiss. He and that gorgeous golden-haired woman, lips pressed, hands entwined, smiling like the sun into each other like...

And Orihime broke.

Tatsuki turned to her as a strangled cry tore from her best friend’s throat. Their shopping bags slipped from her shaking hands, falling to the cement below. And before Tatsuki could even call her name, Orihime was running, bolting through the crowd, tears streaming down her face.

“Damn it,” Tatsuki cursed, scooping up the dropped bag and sprinting after her.

-----

The hotel room was dim when Tatsuki entered and the sound of muffled cries guided her to the bedroom. Orihime laid down on the bed, face firmly buried into a pillow as her whole body racked with heaving sobs. Tatsuki’s throat clenched, a sense of wretchedness tearing through her chest and settling twistingly hot.

Slowly, Tatsuki sat down beside her and gently laid a hand on her head. “Orihime…”

Her friend looked up, tears streaming down her face as her face twisted in heartbreak and agony. And in the next second, Orihime flung herself into Tatsuki’s lap, circling her waist with her arms and squeezing tight. She wailed harder, clutching at her desperately. Tatsuki held her, stroking her hair, her own eyes burning as she held back a choked sob.

How… how had things come to this?

“You-you told me,” Orihime gasped between sobs. “E-everyone t-told me! It was for his good! That I-I had to wait! Th-that we’d fix it a-and we could go back to how things used to be! But” her voice cracked as she let out a heart-wrenching wail, “but now it’s too late! He’s gone! He’s been taken and he’s gone!”

Tatsuki drew in Orihime closer as the young woman continued to wail and keen in heartbreak.

Silent tears ran down Tatsuki’s cheeks as she shut her eyes tight. So many old memories stabbed through her: all the competitive shenanigans she and Ichigo used to get up to during their karate lessons. Ichigo’s fierce and boyish grin as he ran to meet his mother at the end of said lessons. Masaki-san’s kind smile while feeding them dinner whenever Tatsuki stopped by after training. Tatsuki had even been there at the kind woman's funeral, holding Ichigo's hand through the whole dreadful affair. And she had watched the boy who cried for his mother slowly grow up to be a rough-around-the-edges but incredibly kind young man.

All those years, all that time together.

And yet she had… they had…

Orihime gasped, hyperventilating. “Tatsuki! Tatsuki, I can’t breathe!”

Tatsuki just held her tighter, trembling herself. “I’ve got you,” she whispered, rubbing her back soothingly as she sat her upright. “I’ve got you.”

The two of them clung together, their shared anguish swallowing them cold.

And Tatsuki realized, with bitter regret, that Ichigo Kurosaki, her oldest friend, was gone.