August 2010. Written for Enisy for the Live Journal fundraiser Gulf_Aid_Now. Prompt request was Ulquihime + Ishihime. Thanks to Jade_Sabre for the beta read. Feedback and constructive criticism is loved.

The Taste of Salmon Mint Ice Cream

Orihime remembers the day she first tasted salmon mint ice cream.

It was a recipe of her own creation—and with that first lush spoonful her world had paused in epiphanic wonder. The smooth fatty richness of salmon and cool green mint—like the gentle taste of spring—suspended together in sweet, cold, cream. Sora! Have you ever tasted anything so amazing? The sensation was too astonishing to be properly called enjoyment. It was wonder in the true sense of the word. Nothing—neither salmon, nor mint, nor ice cream—would ever taste the same.

She feels wonder again now: a dreadful wonder, tasting like salt.

Ulquiorra smiled before he died.

It was the only time she had ever seen Ulquiorra smile. It was there—that tiny crook in his mouth—as his fingers stretched toward hers, fragmenting into the susurrus of dry ash. It was a smile that said more than friendship.

Ulquiorra had liked her. Orihime understands what it is to like someone.

Oh, thinks Orihime. Oh, my.

She hadn't even done anything.

She hadn't even thought of Ulquiorra as a boy—man, arrancar, whatever. Male. Or had she? Sorrow drops like a stone into her stomach. Would it have made a difference if she had known? Would it have changed anything? Would he still be alive? Fresh tears threaten to spill down her cheeks.

"How are you holding up, Inoue-san?"

She smears the back of her hand across her eyes and pulls together a brave face for Ishida-kun. His stomach injury isn't nearly healed and she can see him gritting his teeth against the pain. Her fingers hover above his wounded arm as she redoubles her healing efforts.

"Oh, don't worry about me! I'm perfectly fine. Really, I've been perfectly useless. Kurosaki-kun, and you, and Kuchiki-san and the others should have never bothered to come here for me."

"Nonsense! We would never have abandoned you or allowed you to be abused by Aizen and his espada."

"Ulquiorra didn't—they never hurt me." Her voice is little more than a whisper. She hesitates—but what else is there to say?

Ishida is watching her closely.

"That's not true," he says slowly. "Look at the clothes you're wearing. The armholes are too tight. Aizen's servants didn't measure properly. That dress must have pinched you."

At first she is confused, then she catches the faint smile he's managing through the pain.

"It is a little uncomfortable," she admits, grateful for the moment to smile back. "And scratchy."

He nods. "Talentless fools. They should have lined it with a satin material. I selected a lightweight, double-knit jersey when I designed a shirt for you. Jersey is durable and drapes well, and I knew it would feel soft against your skin."

He blushes and fixes his gaze on some point in the distance.

"Thank you, Ishida-kun," she says warmly. "For everything."

"You're welcome," he answers, his color deepening. He's staring more intently than ever at the horizon and his fingers are trembling beneath her hands. For a moment, Orihime worries his pain has worsened but then—

Another revelation, a catch of surprise—

Oh, my.

"Salmon and mint," says Orihime.

"What?"

"Salmon and mint ice cream."

"Inoue-san, are you-are you feeling okay? You didn't bump your head did you?"

Orihime shakes her head. Her eyes still shine with tears.

She smiles.