The hospital groaned.
Not metaphorically—literally. Cracks spider-webbed along the remaining walls, dust drifting down in lazy sheets as if the building itself was exhaling after holding its breath for too long.
Orihime and Tatsuki did not wait for it to decide whether it wanted to stay standing.
Together, they dragged the two men out through what had once been the front entrance and was now a jagged, half-collapsed archway. Concrete scraped. Shoes dragged. One unconscious grown man was objectively too heavy, and two unconscious grown men was unreasonable.
"This," Tatsuki grunted, adjusting her grip on Matthew's jacket, "is why adults shouldn't be allowed to fight monsters without a spotter."
Orihime puffed, nodding earnestly while pulling Orion by the shoulders. "I think they did their best, Tatsuki-chan. But… um… yes. Maybe next time they should stretch first?"
Tatsuki shot her a look. "Orihime. One of them fell three stories. The other one smells like an electrical fire mixed with sage drenched in sweat."
Orihime paused, sniffed slightly, then smiled awkwardly. "He does smell kind of… crispy."
They hauled both men a few more feet, far enough that the hospital's next ominous creak didn't feel like a personal threat.
Behind them, a section of the third floor finally gave up and collapsed inward with a thunderous crash.
Both girls froze.
Then, slowly, Tatsuki exhaled. "Okay. Yeah. Good call on the 'leaving' part."
Orihime nodded, relief washing over her as she knelt beside the two battered forms of Orion and Matthew. They were alive. Barely—But alive. And that mattered more than anything else.
She raised her hands again, gentle and practiced, and began healing in earnest.
Tatsuki watched the men for a moment—really watched them. One unconscious, but stubborn even in stillness. The other breathing shallowly, jaw set like he was ready to argue with death if it tried again.
"…So," Tatsuki said after a beat, "we're just gonna gloss over the fact that these two normal-looking dudes fought a Hollow in broad daylight?"
Orihime tilted her head. "They didn't feel normal… Not exactly."
"That's not comforting."
Orihime smiled anyway. "But they were trying to protect each other. In a way they almost remind me of Ichigo."
Tatsuki huffed. "Yeah. I noticed. Stupidly brave. Definitely stubborn idiots."
She shifted her stance, arms crossed, then added—quieter, less sharp, "But… they didn't run."
Orihime glanced up at her, eyes warm. "No. They didn't."
For a moment, there was only the sound of Orihime's healing and distant sirens beginning to rise somewhere in Karakura.
Tatsuki cracked her neck and sighed. "Still. When they wake up, I'm telling them they owe us dinner. Or at least an apology for making me carry two grown-ass men out of a collapsing building."
Orihime giggled softly. "I think they'd say thank you first."
"…They'd better," Tatsuki muttered.
But she stayed.
Orihime's hands glowed softly as she worked, wounds knitting together, burns fading, the worst of the damage gently rejected as if it had never belonged there in the first place. She glanced down at Orion, then back to Tatsuki.
"…Rukia mentioned him," she said, gesturing vaguely with her chin. "Orion. She said they were together. But I guess their relationship is… complicated."
That got a sharp eyebrow from Tatsuki.
"Complicated how?" she asked, arms folding again. Then, after a moment, "And yeah—now that you mention it, it has been a while since we've heard from Rukia."
Orihime hesitated.
Visibly hesitated. The glow of her healing didn't stop, but her eyes drifted off upward, unfocused, as if she were lining her thoughts up in the wrong order on purpose.
"Well," she began carefully, "the scruffy one we just dragged out of a collapsing building—" she nodded again toward Orion, "—is married."
Tatsuki blinked.
Noticing for the first time the silver band on his left hand that seemed to contrast with the black ring on his right.
"…Okay."
"And," Orihime continued, voice gentle but unhelpfully earnest, "Rukia is… not his wife."
Tatsuki's posture stiffened immediately.
"…Orihime."
"Yeah?"
Tatsuki turned slowly, eyes narrowed. "Rukia was in my classes when she stayed with Ichigo. Same age as us. You are not about to tell me that—"
"Oh! No—well—yes—but also no?" Orihime rushed, hands fluttering a little as the healing barriers bobbled in place, as she stumbled over her words flustered by the implication.
"It's very confusing! Rukia is technically much older, but she looks seventeen, and she acts… well like Rukia, and she went to school like us, but she's also a Soul Reaper, so time works differently, and—"
She paused, thinking.
"…If you think about it too hard, you get a headache. I heard her say she was like 10 times older than us."
Tatsuki stared at her.
Then glanced down at Orion.
Then back at Orihime.
"…So let me get this straight," Tatsuki said slowly. "This guy is married. He's apparently dating Rukia. Rukia is not actually underage, but absolutely looks it. And we just risked our lives to save them both."
Orihime nodded. "When you say it like that, it sounds bad."
"It is bad."
Orihime tilted her head. "But also kind of romantic? In a tragic, messy, everyone-needs-therapy kind of way. Like one of those melodramas where everyone falls in love with the protagonist then fight to the death!" She said with surprising enthusiasm.
Tatsuki groaned, rubbing her face. "I hate that you can say that with a straight face."
Orihime smiled softly. "Rukia looked really happy when she talked about him."
That gave Tatsuki pause.
She sighed, some of the tension leaking out of her shoulders. "Figures. She always does things the hard way."
They stood there for a moment, the danger truly past now. The unconscious pair started breathing steadily. The afternoon clouds casting shadows overhead, settling back into something resembling normal.
Tatsuki clicked her tongue. "Still. When they wake up, somebody's explaining everything to me. Preferably in chronological order. With charts."
Orihime beamed. "I can draw diagrams!"
"…Please don't."
But Tatsuki didn't move away. Studying the peculiar scene in front of her and wondering how this became her Saturday.
Orion
A short while later, Matthew and I came back to consciousness.
Every inch of my body ached, but compared to the burning cuts, the bone-deep throbbing, the certainty that something important had been broken, it felt like a sweet release. Breathing alone felt easier, like my lungs had finally remembered what they were supposed to do.
I pushed myself upright as a glowing field of energy washed over me, draping my body in warmth and gently forcing the injuries out, like they were being politely, but firmly evicted. I groaned—more from the sensation than actual pain.
When I looked up, I noticed two high school–aged girls standing nearby.
One had messy black hair, a simple T-shirt and jeans, and a noticeably athletic build. She was staring at me with an expression that carried pure judgment—like I'd definitely done something wrong, and it was entirely my responsibility to figure out what.
The second was a red-haired girl I didn't recognize. She was striking in a natural, effortless way, the kind where a single smile could light up a room without trying.
"Um… thanks," I said, my voice rough but steady. "I don't know who you are, but I really appreciate this."
It didn't take a magic degree from Hogwarts to figure out she had some kind of healing ability, and I wasn't about to question the pretty white mage sitting beside us in a flowing skirt, pink blouse that she filled out—very generously.
"I guess introductions are in order," I added. "Hi. I'm Orion. This is Matthew."
My voice came out rough, like I'd been gargling gravel, but it was steady enough.
Matthew shifted beside me with a pained grunt that turned into a breathy laugh. "Ow. Yeah. These two showed while you were fighting that thing inside. I'm just glad god sent us a pair of guardian angels to patch us up in our time of need."
His tone was steady in the trademark Matthew way that sounded almost awkward if you didn't know him.
The red-haired girl laughed softly, hands still glowing as the last of that warm, impossible feeling washed through my chest. It felt like sinking into a hot bath after being half-frozen—everything still hurt, but in a distant, manageable way. The kind of ache that promised later, not now.
"I'm Orihime Inoue," she said brightly. "And you're welcome! Please don't move too fast, though. Your bodies are still catching up, I healed your more severe injuries so I don't think you're in any more danger.."
That… explained a lot.
The other girl crossed her arms, weight shifting onto one hip. She had the posture of someone who knew how to fight and the expression of someone who'd already decided she didn't like me.
"Tatsuki Arisawa," she said. "And just so you know, you did do something wrong. I'm just figuring out what."
Ah. That vibe.
I winced as I adjusted my leg, testing it carefully. No screaming pain. No bone-on-bone grind. Just soreness and a dull protest.
"…Fair," I said. "I'm guessing the 'nearly collapsing a condemned hospital' part?"
I stood up slowly and cracked my back experimentally.
Matthew snorted, immediately regretted it, and clutched his ribs. "Worth it," he wheezed.
Tatsuki shot him a look. "You two idiots fought a Hollow alone."
Orihime nodded with infectious enthusiasm. "A really scary one! With ooze and explosions and—oh! And lightning. That was very flashy."
I rubbed the back of my neck, suddenly very aware of how feral I must have looked by the end of that fight. Bits of memory flickered—rage, tunnel vision, the voice in my head yelling directions I hadn't questioned for even a second.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "It wasn't supposed to go that far."
Tatsuki's eyes narrowed. "Funny how it always does."
There was a beat of silence. Then Orihime clasped her hands together, smile returning full force like a light switch flipping back on.
"But you won!" she said. "You're alive! And nobody else got hurt, which is very important."
I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of everything I'd been holding finally settle somewhere outside my chest.
"…Thank you," I said again, more seriously this time. "Both of you. I don't think we'd be breathing without you."
Tatsuki huffed. "You're welcome, but you still owe explanations."
Matthew raised a shaky hand. "Can we schedule that for after I stop feeling like I got hit by a truck driven by another truck?"
Orihime giggled.
I leaned back slightly, letting the last of that healing warmth fade, and for the first time since the hospital… really looked at the sky.
Still standing. Still here.
Yeah. I'd take the lecture.
We sat and talked for a while, piecing together what had happened. I leaned against my car for support, less because I needed it structurally and more because the idea of sitting on hard concrete while my entire body protested felt like a terrible life choice.
At some point—seemingly out of nowhere—Matthew asked a question after taking a little too much interest in Orihime.
Of course he would. She was absolutely his type: red hair, soft-spoken, kind, and apparently strong-willed enough to sprint headfirst into a Hollow fight without hesitation.
"How old are you, Orihime?" he asked, casual but curious.
"Seventeen!" she replied brightly. "I know I don't really look it—people always tell me how mature I seem!"
Matthew's expression immediately fell, like someone had just unplugged him mid-sentence. Tatsuki, on the other hand, caught the implication instantly. She stepped between them without hesitation, planting herself like a wall and fixing Matthew with a withering glare.
"Typical," Matthew sighed dramatically, staring up at the sky. "God finally sends me the perfect woman and she's underage. Figures, I suppose I'll just stick to my original plan."
Tatsuki snapped back without missing a beat.
"What's that supposed to mean, old man?"
Matthew raised both hands in mock surrender. "Relax. I have zero interest in kids. I'm damaged, not stupid. It means I'll find a good woman after we get rich off our manga project."
Then, more seriously, he nodded toward both of them.
"Still—thank you. You saved our lives."
Orihime beamed at that, like gratitude was her native language. Tatsuki huffed but didn't argue, which for her felt like a small miracle.
I watched the exchange quietly, sore, exhausted, and oddly grateful. For help. For timing. For the fact that somehow, against all logic, we were still here.
And for once… the fighting was over.
For now.
I glanced back at the Orihime, studying her a little more carefully now—the way her presence felt gentle but solid, like something that didn't break no matter how hard the world tried to crush it. A thought clicked into place. A guess—A shot in the dark, but an educated one.
"You must be friends of Rukia, right?" I asked.
Orihime's eyes widened instantly, lighting up like I'd just said a magic word.
"Oh! Yes—Rukia!" she said warmly, clasping her hands together. "She's very important to us. We haven't seen her in a while, though…"
Tatsuki's gaze sharpened, shifting fully onto me now.
"And how exactly do you know Rukia?" she asked, arms crossing. There it was again—that protective edge, like a guard dog that didn't need teeth to be intimidating.
I swallowed, suddenly very aware that I was sore, shirt torn, covered in dried blood, and standing in front of two teenage girls who clearly cared about the same woman I did.
"Uh," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, "that's… a long story. And—fair warning—it's complicated."
Matthew snorted softly beside me.
"That's one way to put it."
Orihime tilted her head, smiling gently, but there was curiosity there now—real curiosity.
"Rukia said something like that once," she said thoughtfully. "That things with you were… complicated."
Tatsuki gave an amused look. "She sure knows how to pick em?"
I sighed, leaning a little heavier against the car.
"Yeah," I muttered. "Definitely questionable taste."
Tatsuki took a step closer, planting herself squarely in front of me like she was drawing a line in the dirt. Up close, the resemblance to a seasoned fighter was obvious—not just muscle, but posture. Balance. The kind of awareness you don't teach in a dojo, only earn by getting hit enough times to learn better.
"Okay," she said flatly, "you don't look like a bad guy. But you do look like trouble. And Rukia already attracts enough of that."
Fair. Painfully fair.
Matthew huffed out a quiet laugh. "You should hear what people say about him when they like him."
I shot him an incredulous look. "Come one, now you wanna get some jabs in?."
Orihime, meanwhile, knelt back down beside Matthew, checking his hands with gentle concern even though her powers had already done their work. "Rukia didn't say much," she admitted softly. "Just that she met someone unexpected. Someone human. She sounded… conflicted, but also happy."
That word hit harder than any Hollow had. Happy.
Tatsuki's eyes flicked to Orihime, then back to me. "Human," she repeated. "So you're not a Soul Reaper or just whatever Orihime is?"
I exhaled through my nose. "No powers until recently. Still technically human as far as I know, but I got some kickass electro-kinetic lightning that I can shape into objects."
Orihime blinked. "Lightning?"
I raised a hand weakly, letting off a couple flickers of sparks but even that was a strain—I really did use it all.
"Maybe some other time, I used it up in the fight. Who knew collateral damage was so tiring?" I said light heartedly.
As if on cue, the hospital let out a low, unhappy groan. Concrete shifted somewhere deep inside, like the building was finally realizing it should have fallen apart years ago.
Tatsuki jerked her head toward the street. "We should move. Before this place collapses."
No one argued.
As we limped into the front of the car—Matthew leaning on me now—I felt that same familiar knot tightening in my chest. The one that always came up when Rukia's name was spoken out loud by people who loved her.
"I didn't mean to drag her into anything," I said quietly, mostly to myself. "If anything, I keep ending up where I shouldn't be."
Orihime looked at me, really looked at me, and for the first time her smile softened into something more serious.
"Rukia doesn't get dragged," she said gently. "She chooses."
Tatsuki nodded once. "And if she chose you, then you'd better be worth the mess."
I didn't answer right away. I wasn't sure I had the right one.
But somewhere deep down, under the pain and exhaustion and fear of what came next, I wanted to be.
I leaned back in the seat of my car and took a long, sobering breath. It felt strange—like my body was finally checking back in after being gone for a while. Disassociation had a texture to it, I'd learned. Everything sounded a little farther away. Like I was watching my own life through a screen.
I had just barely survived a monster.
Saved by my best friend—who couldn't even see it.
Then patched back together by a stray high-school cleric.
…Yeah. My D&D brain was doing somersaults trying to file this under normal.
All things considered, it was a team effort. We won. The Hollow was dead. We were alive.
But the terrifying truth crept in anyway.
I almost died.
Worse—I would have died if they hadn't been there. All this power, all this lightning and bravado and clever tricks… and it didn't mean a damn thing when it mattered most. I survived, sure, but surviving wasn't the same as winning. Not really.
I was weak.
And it hadn't just come for me. It went after Matthew. I put him in danger—
My chest tightened as another thought slipped in, colder than the rest.
What if I'd been home?
What if it had found me with my wife and kids?
That one scared me more than claws or tentacles ever could.
The thoughts bounced around quietly, piling up, while the girls talked with Matthew a few steps away from the open car door. I didn't even realize I'd checked out until—
Wham.
Tatsuki punched my arm.
"Hey! Orion!" she barked. "Answer the question."
I blinked, sucking in a breath as I dragged myself back into the moment. "—Sorry. Uh. What question exactly?"
She studied me like she was deciding whether I was full of shit.
"Are you sure you're okay to drive after all that?" she asked. "I remember the first time I dealt with one of those things. It can really mess with your head."
"Oh. Yeah," I said quickly, forcing a laugh that didn't quite land. "I'll be fine. I'm American—driving under stress is basically Tuesday."
No one laughed.
"…Seriously though," I added, softer, "I really appreciate you two looking out for us. I'm sorry we dragged you into this."
The words were out before I could stop them.
Why was I apologizing for being saved?
God, am I broken?
Orihime shook her head so hard her hair swayed. "No, no! You don't have to apologize at all! Helping people is what friends do—and even if we weren't friends yet, that's okay too! I'm just really glad everyone's alive!" She smiled brightly, like that settled the matter entirely.
Somehow this girl just had a way of melting my heart with how pure she was.
Tatsuki crossed her arms, still unconvinced, but she didn't push the driving thing. Instead, she jabbed a finger at my chest.
"Whatever you do," she said flatly, "leave Orihime out of your mess, okay? And—" her eyes sharpened like a lion giving a warning, "don't break Rukia's heart."
Orihime immediately sputtered. "T-Tatsuki! You don't have to threaten people!"
"I absolutely do," Tatsuki shot back without looking at her. "Whatever weird stuff you've got going on with Rukia is your business. But if you hurt her, I'll break you worse than that Hollow ever could."
Orihime tried to rein her in, flustered and red-faced, tugging on her sleeve and apologizing on her behalf—though I couldn't help noticing she looked a little… pleased, too.
This was my second "don't hurt her" ultimatum today.
I swallowed and nodded. "I'm… glad she has friends like you two."
Tatsuki huffed, but didn't argue. Somehow she seemed to soften up almost imperceptively.
Matthew, meanwhile, watched the whole exchange in silence—arms crossed, posture relaxed despite everything, eyes sharp and unreadable.
Yeah.
He was absolutely filing this away for later.
To my surprise, Orihime suddenly clasped her hands together and leaned forward a little.
"Um—Orion? Can we exchange phone numbers?"
Tatsuki's head snapped toward her so fast I swear I heard a crack.
"Absolutely not," she said flatly. "You are not giving your number to some old creep you just met in a collapsed hospital."
"I'm not a creep," I muttered on instinct, then immediately regretted defending myself in front of a teenage martial artist who looked like she could fold me into a lawn chair.
Orihime shook her head, unfazed. "But we're friends now! And he got really hurt, and I just want to make sure he's okay. And if he needs more healing, he should be able to call me."
Tatsuki stared at her like she'd just betrayed a sacred oath. "You can want things quietly."
I raised both hands. "For the record, I promise I will use this power responsibly and exclusively for medical emergencies."
Tatsuki squinted at me. "I'm watching you."
Somehow, despite the threat, Orihime won. She happily handed over her phone, and we exchanged numbers while Tatsuki stood there radiating protective hostility like a guard dog that had already decided it didn't like my face.
"Thank you, I think I'm glad we're friends now." I said sincerely once it was done. And I meant it. "Really. I don't think I've ever owed so much to someone I just met."
I paused, then added quietly, "Short of Rukia."
Orihime smiled at that—soft and warm, like it was the easiest thing in the world to forgive people for complicated lives.
We waved goodbye as they headed down the street, Tatsuki still casting suspicious looks over her shoulder. As they walked away, I sent a quick text.
Orion: Just making sure this works. Thanks again—for everything.
A moment later, Orihime's phone buzzed. She glanced down, her face lighting up, then turned back and waved again—big, bright, and sincere.
Yeah.
Adorable ball of sunshine was an understatement.
Once they were gone, Matthew and I sat there in the quiet for a second, the adrenaline had completely drained out of us.
"…So," he said, rolling his shoulders stiffly, "you gonna tell me when your life turned into an anime?"
"Buddy," I replied, opening the car door, "I don't even know what season we're on."
We drove back to my place in silence for a while, both of us thinking, processing, probably repressing a few things for later. When we pulled into the driveway, the decision felt obvious.
"You're staying the night," I wasn't asking.
Matthew nodded without argument. "Yeah. That tracks."
After everything—after monsters, lightning, broken bones, and near-death—having my best friend crash on the couch just felt… right.
Somehow, in all the chaos, that was the most normal thing that had happened all day.