Rating: T+

Warnings: Orange and blue morality, vague angst, skewed fluff, parental!Orochimaru, shinobi logic, snark, language, eventual slash, femslash hints, etc.

Word Count: ~5500

Pairings: Urahara/Orochimaru, Chad/Rogu, Orihime/Rukia

Notes: I'm currently so sleep-deprived it's not even funny (or, more to the point, everything is funny), but I was inspired and this fic is just way too much fun to write, so have a chapter. I'll come back and edit when I stop giggling uncontrollably at typos.

Bite

Chapter 3

A massive fist flies just over Rogu's head as he ducks low and twists on his hands, fouling Sado's legs with his own. There's a startled sound from above him, a grunt, and then the bigger boy goes down with a thud that practically shakes the earth.

Never one to waste an opportunity, Rogu flips back upright with ease, then drops himself right on top of Sado, pinning him with one hand on his shoulder and the tapping his sheathed sword against Sado's throat.

"I win. Again," he says, and it's more than a little mocking. "You might have hit me if you'd used your left arm."

"I can't," Sado says flatly, though there's a hint of a glare on his usually stoic face. Rogu supposes getting beaten eleven times in a row by a boy half his size is probably a little irritating.

Just to be even more aggravating, Rogu slaps his cheek lightly with his sword. "You wouldn't have reiatsu in it if you couldn't use it, you know. Also, fair warning: when I get to thirteen wins I'm unsheathing my sword."

Sado flicks a glance at the saya, lacquered wood gleaming in the afternoon sun, and then back up at Rogu, faintly wary. "Can I get up now?" he asks mildly.

"I don't know. Can you?" Rogu asks slyly, and leans forward with a faint smirk. "Do you want to?"

Sado blinks once, then grabs Rogu by the shoulders and simply gets up, dragging him along like he's a ragdoll.

Rogu sighs, used to this by now, and doesn't protest. "If you want to manhandle me I'm pretty sure we can find a way that's more fun for both of us," he points out.

Sado doesn't blink. Sado doesn't even seem to notice that there's more than one way that could be taken, and at this point even the most emotionless and reserved of Rogu's classmates are usually flushing and ducking away. It's disappointing, honestly.

"You're sure my left arm has reiatsu?" he asks, instead of acknowledging Rogu's innuendo—and really, by now Rogu can't tell whether it's lack of acknowledgement or just obliviousness, and he can't say for sure which he'd put his money on.

That is, however, an invitation Rogu isn't about to ignore. He reaches out, tracing his fingers down the chakra pathways in Sado's arm and lingering over his tenketsu points. "Can't you feel it? It's muted, but it's right here."

Sado frowns faintly at his arm, ignoring Rogu entirely. "Six days," he says, as if that means something. "I should focus on what I already know."

Rogu rolls his eyes a little, stepping back, and pushes down the faint flicker of annoyance in his chest. "All that other training you're doing works for your right arm," he tells his sparring partner. "You're not losing anything right now, are you?"

With a quiet hum, Sado inclines his head, though most of his attention is still on his right arm. Rogu studies his face, the thoughtful cast to his eyes, and sighs a little as he calls himself every word he knows for fool. He started this on a whim, and it's frustrating enough when Sado simply doesn't understand chakra techniques or pathways, but Rogu is far too much Orochimaru's son to just drop it and go on his way.

Sado hasn't precisely said anything about his abilities—hasn't said much of anything, really, and Rogu is starting to get a little insulted—or why he needs them on a deadline, but Rogu has distinct memories of Mitsuki acting exactly the same way when Boruto was facing some encroaching danger. The last time was just before they landed here, and it makes something close to uneasiness twist in Rogu's stomach at the thought that there could be such threats here. They only just settled into this place, and though Rogu has no real attachment to it, he dislikes the idea of being forced to move, just on sheer principle.

The similarity to Mitsuki sparks a thought, and Rogu hums lightly, considering it. But…at this point, there's not really anything to lose, is there?

"I'm bored," he announces, and draws his sword in a slow, deliberately showy movement. The pale gold etching of the dragon on the saya catches the light and almost seems to writhe and curl as he shifts his grip on it, ready to use it as a shield. "You're boring me. Maybe I should go pick a fight with someone else."

Sado's head snaps back up, and the younger boy narrows his eyes at him warily.

Rogu gives him a sly smile, and doesn't have to see it in a mirror to know it matches his parent's faintly malicious smirk. He had to learn it from somewhere, after all. "If you're not interested in learning how to use your left arm, we're through, aren't we? And I think that boy you're always hanging around would probably be a lot more fun to pick on anyway. Or maybe that girl. She's pretty cute, too. Maybe when I beat her I could just—"

Swift, deadly, and perfectly silent, Sado lunges at him, right arm transforming in a ripple of darkness as he lashes out with a devastating punch. Rogu dodges it easily, twisting his body into a one-handed back handspring and lunging right the moment his feet hit the earth. The whirling chakra gathered around Sado's arm skims past him, and he reverses with a whirl, slamming the dull side of his blade into Sado's ribs. Sado grunts breathlessly, staggering, and Rogu leaps back in three long springs, then brings his hands together. The hand-seals are as familiar as taking a step, drilled into him over years as Orochimaru's only focus, and he flickers through them as water condenses around him with a rush. It spins for a moment, shaping itself into long streams like dragons caught mid-lunge, and Rogu slashes out with one hand. The dragons roar as they barrel towards Sado, mouths full of teeth gaping hungrily, and the boy's eyes widen sharply.

Impact, and Rogu smirks at the sound of water striking flesh.

"What?" he asks, mockingly light. "You don't want me playing with her?"

Dark, heavy chakra flares, and through the rush of water still in the air Rogu can see Sado gathering himself. His arm has shifted slightly, changed to a wide shield that frames his shoulder, and it's progress but not the kind Rogu was hoping for.

"Ichigo would protect her," Sado says, quiet but intent. "Since he isn't here to do it, I will."

"Lame," Rogu laments, though he honestly didn't expect anything different. With a tired sigh, he shifts back, shaping three more hand-seals around the sword and saya. "Your power is greatest when you're protecting other people, really? And here I thought you were cool."

That, of all things, makes Sado blink and look at him with faint surprise, but there's no time to savor the victory, as small as it is. Rogu flicks his hands out, fingers spread as much as possible while still hanging on to his sword, and smiles at Sado's sound of shock when white snakes pour from the wide sleeves of his haori. They surge across the ground, fast and aiming for Sado, but even as he takes three rapid steps back Rogu twists his fingers together in a quick seal and focuses.

"I think," he says lightly, "that I want to see blood. I miss it, all that pretty red. I bet that girl has the best blood. She'll be so cute when she's scared, don't you think? Maybe she'll scream. I miss that, too."

Sado's expression goes dark again, close to murderous, but Rogu doesn't pay him any mind. Lightning is more difficult, never his default nature the way water is, but it's useful enough that he's put effort into it. A moment, a breath—

With a loud crackle a surge of lightning leaps from his clasped hands, shaping itself like a striking snake, and it's a jutsu he's seen Orochimaru use time and again. A wolf when his parent does it, and Rogu asked why once and only got a wry, faintly sad smile in answer, but Orochimaru made no protest when Rogu reshaped it the way he wished. He'd ruffled Rogu's hair, back when it was a natural movement between them, and left a file on Konoha's White Fang on the table the next morning.

(Sometimes, every once in a very great while, Rogu thinks back to that file and wonders if Orochimaru was telling him where half of his DNA came from.

Other times he's stubbornly certain that it meant nothing at all.)

This time, the fear in Sado's eyes is even clearer.

If Rogu was the type to feel regret, he might for that.

He's not, though, and never has been. Instead, he smirks, leaping back and to the side like he's going to use Sado's distraction to get away, and sees the realization fill the other's boy's face half a heartbeat before the Raiton jutsu hits in a massive explosion.

There's a flare of chakra, vast and heavy, and Rogu sheathes his sword with a satisfied hum, rocking back on his heels as he waits for the dust to clear. It only takes a moment, wind whirling the obscuring cloud away, and when he glances up from a pointed study of his nails Sado is still standing.

His left arm is ash-white, streaked with red like blood, and radiates chakra like a beacon in the darkness.

"Congratulations," Rogu drawls. "You have a left arm too. That's exciting."

Sado blinks at him in suspicious surprise, then glances down at his arm and back up. "You were…pretending," he says slowly.

Rogu raises a brow, then hums, tipping his head to the side. "Hmm…I wonder." Sado's expression shades towards alarm, but before he can say anything Rogu waves a hand. "That technique would have killed most people. Good job stopping it."

Sado stares at him, silent and assessing, and says like it's a revelation, "I thought you would do it."

Fair, Rogu judges. This is their third time sparring, but he's hardly bothered to hide his nature from Sado. It's easier to learn to survive when you think someone is actually going to kill you, after all, and Rogu's been liberal in his use of shuriken and killing blows. "I might have," he agrees easily, tone light. "There's always a chance your friends would put up more of a fight than you."

"I fight for them," Sado says, as though this fact might have escaped Rogu. "My fists are to protect."

The words make something in Rogu's chest twist, and it takes effort to glance away as if he's bored, eyes tracing the path of the shadows as they lengthen towards night. "Yes, yes, I noticed. Very noble, very stupid, I'm sure you'll die gloriously."

A hand lands on his shoulder and spins him around, unexpected enough to make Rogu twitch and bring his sword up, but it's just Sado, staring down at him with something like stubborn intent on his face. "Protecting the people in your life is never stupid. I will die for them if I have to, but I want all of us to live and come back safely."

Rogu blinks at him, not quite able to form words, and Sado studies his face for a moment before he nods once and turns to walk away. The chakra covering his arms fades, whirling away like smoke, and it leaves him just…human.

Rogu curls his hand tight around his sheathed sword, staring down at it rather than watching Sado leave. He can't help but think of Mitsuki returning to Orochimaru's base in the middle of Konoha's last crisis, battered and bruised and so exhausted it was hard for him to walk straight, but with a light in his eyes that Rogu had never seen before.

I'm going to save Boruto, he had told them, unwavering, unflinching. I have a way, but I wanted to say goodbye first.

Something cold and hard had formed in Rogu's stomach then, a knot he couldn't undo or ignore. You would really give everything up for that brat? he'd asked, and it had been the furthest thing from gracious. Not out of hatred, not out of derision, though he'd felt both about Mitsuki's strange devotion. What, are you in love with him?

Mitsuki's eyes had hardened, and he'd drawn himself up full of fury and determination. Of course I love him, he had snapped, as if it was obvious. As if Rogu should have known. He's my best friend!

Orochimaru had stepped in then, one hand on Mitsuki's shoulder and a quelling glance at Rogu. I will help, he'd said, and smiled at the shock that bloomed on Mitsuki and Rogu's faces both. A hand in Mitsuki's hair, a pat on Rogu's shoulder, and he's moved away, reached for Kusanagi where it hung on the wall. Rogu, we leave things to you, then.

Even now, Rogu can remember that moment, the instant he realized that they meant to leave him behind, alone and abandoned. And maybe he'd never shown either one of them what he really felt, maybe it was hard to look at the three of them together and think family, but—

He had refused to be left behind, another failed clone unable to achieve Sage Mode, an extra to the parent-and-child pair Orochimaru and Mitsuki seemed to form so effortlessly.

I will die for them if I have to, but I want all of us to live and come back safely.

"How stupid," Rogu says, to himself more than to Sado's disappearing shadow. "If you die to protect them, you're still leaving them behind."

But—somehow he doesn't think Sado will ever see it that way. He'll fight and sacrifice and call it the right thing to do, will be abandoned and think it's fine.

Rogu stood up, back then. Stood up and caught Orochimaru's arm and asked, Should I get my armor? Because he refused to be abandoned, out of pride or attachment or just blind sentiment—he isn't sure. But he took that step himself, made sure that they would all go together or not at all.

Sado isn't selfish enough to do that, though.

There's a soft rustle of branches, the muted thump of a chakra-muffled landing. "Aniki?" Mitsuki asks, for once not sly or digging for openings. Just concerned, the way he rarely ever shows, but it calls up the image of them the first moment they crashed into this strange world after the sealing was done, the entity they sacrificed themselves to fight trapped between dimensions forever. They'd landed in a forest in the middle of the night, and when Rogu collected his scattered wits and sat up it was to the sight of Mitsuki dangling precariously from a small tree, the fabric of his kimono shirt tangled over his head. He'd been laughing as he struggled loose, though, giddy and bright-eyed with victory and relief, smiling brilliantly.

Rogu had looked at him, and realized all over again that synthetic human or not, he was real, and so was what he felt for his little brother, for the parent who was sprawled beside him and laughing quietly. It's what he feels right now, if less desperate.

With a questioning hum, he slides his sword into his sash. It's awkward to draw from there, but he's dangerous enough even without it. Especially so when Mitsuki is with him. Rogu isn't so proud that he can't admit his little brother is terrifying.

Mitsuki gives him the sunny smile that means his next words are calculated to irritate. "Are you okay? If he said something mean I can beat him up for you."

Rogu rolls his eyes, reaching out to grab Mitsuki by the collar of his kimono shirt. "Come on, brat, we're going to do some digging."

"We are?" Mitsuki asks, allowing himself to be towed along. "Digging on that giant guy?"

"Kind of." Rogu allows himself one glance after Sado, even if he isn't visible any longer. "That store where his friend went—did you check it out?"

"I would never spy on a friendly neighbor like that," Mitsuki says virtuously. When Rogu shoots him a droll look, the innocence shifts to a smirk, and he bounces on his toes a little. "I had to! The owner kept flirting with our parent, it was creepy."

"Which one of them?" Rogu asks dryly, because he got to see the aftermath of the meeting, with Orochimaru alternately smug and lost in thought, and he heard the highlights, but not an actual summary.

"Urahara!" Mitsuki protests. "Our parent was just normal levels of creepy. Urahara was worse."

Which is saying something, Rogu thinks with amusement. He raises a brow at his brother, not saying anything, and Mitsuki gives him a cheerful smile in return.

"It's a candy shop," he says, dropping his innocent act. "In the first room, at least. Urahara lives there with another man and two kinds, who all have a lot of reiatsu. I saw the other guy going down into some kind of basement, but he didn't come back out and I didn't want to risk him seeing me if I tried to get in."

That certainly sounds suspicious to Rogu. People usually keep their secrets out of sight, and basements are good for that. "Up for another visit?" he asks mildly.

Mitsuki beams. "Our parent's distracted with helping the neighbor girl with her chakra," he says. "It's boring. Of course I'll come."

Well, Rogu hadn't been aware of that, but he's honestly not too surprised. Given Orochimaru's interest in the girl, it was only a matter of time until he approached her. Rolling his eyes, he lets go of Mitsuki and ignores the way the younger boy bounces up next to him. "We'll get him if we need him," he says. "I want to know what's going on in there."

The glance Mitsuki gives him is just a little too sharp for comfort. "Because of your big friend? He's part of this too, isn't he?"

Rogu hums. "I think so. He's a dumb hero. It annoys me."

Mitsuki looks away, towards the edge of the park ahead of them. He curls his fingers around the edges of his draping sleeves, and this time his smile is faintly bittersweet. "It's so stupid, isn't it? Why do people have to be like that?"

For a moment, Rogu just looks at him. Then, with a sigh, he reaches out and cuffs Mitsuki on the back of the head. Just…maybe not as hard as he could have. "Shut up, brat. You know, some people would call you the dumb hero here."

"Hey!" Mitsuki protests, dancing out of reach. "Boruto was a lot dumber than me. He was going to dive in without even having a plan." He catches Rogu opening his mouth and huffs. "I did too have a plan, thank you! You and our parent just made it easier."

"We made it work," Rogu retorts, and sighs when Mitsuki sticks his tongue out at him. "You're such a brat."

"A brat whose help you need." Mitsuki pulls one eyelid down and sticks his tongue out further, ducking when Rogu takes a swipe at him. He laughs when it misses, and Rogu sighs again in exasperation, careful not to let Mitsuki see the way a smile is threatening.

"Are you sure you don't want some?" Orihime asks cheerfully, offering Orochimaru her bento again. "I made it myself!"

Orochimaru lived through Anko's phase of piling red bean paste on everything that could even vaguely qualify as food, though, and long ago learned his lesson about accepting such offers. He shakes his head with a smile, careful to keep his voice polite even as he eyes the chocolate sauce-covered goop he doesn't truly want to identify. "Thank you, but I already ate." Experience tells him that any reaction of horror or revulsion will result in the cook's insistence that he just try it, and Orochimaru would rather not subject his stomach to even a bite. He's not that immortal.

"Oh, okay!" Orihime doesn't notice his reserve, but digs in again, and Orochimaru can't fight a hint of fondness as he watches. She's a smart girl, and very determined.

In the silence, Orochimaru lets his attention drift, part of it on the ripple of the creek below them, most of the rest on the flicker-flare of Rogu's chakra somewhere close by. It's steady and focused, carefully calculated the way it wouldn't be if the boy were in danger, so he doesn't worry. And…there's another chakra signature as well, one Orochimaru is entirely unfamiliar with, weaker than his son and flickering like a candle flame in the wind.

Clearly Rogu has found a way to entertain himself, Orochimaru thinks with amusement, leaning back on his hands.

"Do—do you think I'll actually be able to help, when we go?" Orihime asks suddenly, and Orochimaru blinks, pulled from his contemplation of the water. He turns to look at her, only to find her picking at her empty bento box with a downcast expression on her face, normally bright eyes veiled by heavy lashes. "I like Rukia-chan a lot. She's my friend, and I want to help her. But Kurosaki-kun…"

She trails off, not finishing the thought even though her hands curl tightly around her bento. There are enough ways to end that sentence that Orochimaru doesn't even attempt to guess, because he doesn't know her well enough.

"I think," he says lightly, "that you are far more powerful than you know, my dear. More powerful than anyone knows. If you truly want to save your friend, you'll find the strength you need."

"Really?" Orihime looks up at him, all the silliness stripped away by seriousness, and her brown eyes are those of a child asked to do more than has ever been demanded of her before. "I—I don't want to hurt anyone, but Yoruichi-san said that everyone is going to try to stop us, and—"

It was a very long time ago, but Orochimaru can still remember being a child on the eve of a war, a newly-made jounin with marching orders and a looming fate he didn't want to face. He and Tsunade and Jiraiya had stayed up well into the night, sitting together in Tsunade's apartment. The future had felt like a terrifying thing regardless of their skill, and Orochimaru had resented each second as it passed and dragged the morning closer.

The second war he'd been alone for, Jiraiya still vanished into Ame with his students and Tsunade fled in the middle of the night, trying to outrun her demons. He'd sat by himself in his house, watching the sunrise through the window, and wondered at how vast and hungry the encroaching future felt.

"There comes a point," Orochimaru says, weighing each word as he speaks it. A shinobi's mindset is close to incomprehensible for a civilian, and the same applies in reverse, but—well. The defense of a friend is common ground, as is fear of the future. "In every fight, where you will have to make a choice. An enemy allowed to survive will become a threat at your back, and that will end things before they begin. Your friend Rukia—she is your goal. If you want to save her, do so. It is fine to have regrets, but they must be saved for afterward. Do you understand?"

Orihime looks away, towards the river. She sets her meal aside and pulls her knees up against her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. "But I don't want to hurt people," she says. "Even if they want to hurt me, I just—I don't."

"Then don't." When she raises her head to blink at him, Orochimaru gives her a smile, and doesn't allow himself to think of Tsunade in the war, blood-splattered and grieving. "If you can't find the determination to protect yourself, then protect your friends. Each enemy you encounter, left unchecked, will threaten the rest of the group. That one enemy might be the difference between rescuing Rukia and failing." He reaches out, offering his hand, and Orihime doesn't hesitate to slip hers into it. Orochimaru rises, pulls her to her feet along with him, and then takes a step back. "You, Orihime, have a great power. When you have the will to use it, nothing can stop you. Your fear of yourself is the only pitfall, my dear."

Orihime takes a breath, shakes herself, and scrubs both hands over her face. When she looks up again, the lost expression is gone, transformed into determination. "I won't let me stop me!" she declares, and then stops. "That makes sense, right? Because it sounds weird, like something an evil twin would say, or—or an evil clone! But I'm not an evil clone, though…how would you know—"

Orochimaru chuckles, cutting her off before she can pick up any more speed. "I think you are the very furthest thing from evil, my dear, and I would doubt the clone part as well."

Orihime beams at him. "That's a relief!" she says cheerfully, and then brings up her hands like she's about to launch into a taijutsu combination. "Are we going to go back to playing ninja now?"

Playing ninja. Orochimaru shakes his head, though it is, he supposes, a decent enough description for the way he's been trying to get Orihime used to attacks she can't see coming. "If you would like," he agrees, and leaps up into the branches of the tree above, pausing to give Orihime just enough time to mark his position before he vanishes among the leaves. He keeps half an eye on her as she summons her spirits, the six points of chakra swirling around her in the evening shadows, and—

Orange-gold light flares as Orihime spins, deflecting a kunai. The shield shatters, but this time it's fully intentional, and with a whirl the spirits recombine. Orochimaru leaps sideways, out of the path of the bolt that splits the branches, and smiles to himself. Orihime learns quickly, and she's clever. Her other teacher seems focused entirely on the basics, but she has a desire for strength and self-reliance that echoes Sasuke's from so long ago. She can be more than is expected of her, and that's always been Orochimaru's favorite type of student.

Dropping down, he lands silently and immediately lunges, stabbing for her throat with a shuriken in hand. Orihime sees him at the last moment, but doesn't even try to turn. With a yelp, she dives forward even as her shield forms again, rolls to her feet with a grace taught by martial arts, and brings her hands together in front of her. The lone spirit hovering near her shoulder drops into the frame of her fingers already glowing, and bright light flares like a supernova.

A breath, and Orihime cries, "I reject!"

Like a blade, her Koten Zanshun slices through the trees and cleaves stone in two in a wash of power. Orochimaru watches it come, judging its strength, and raises a hand in answer. His chakra carves a seal into the air, written in lines of black, and he brings it to life with a touch just as the bolt reaches him.

An explosion of light and barely-tangible power, a gale of wind that screams past them both and bends the trees, moves stone and almost sways Orochimaru from his spot. He feels his hair whip free, hairpins lost to the gale, and bears down on his shield before any more damage can be done.

It's a strong attack, and with luck it will be strong enough.

"Oh my," he says as the power dissipates, leaving a ringing silence behind it. "That was impressive, my dear."

Orihime is panting, but there's a light of achievement in her eyes, bright enthusiasm and joy. "Tsubaki!" she cries as the spirit sweeps back to her, and grabs him right out of the air to hug him tightly. "We did it, we did it! You almost broke through!"

Orochimaru smiles, watching the spirit struggle half-heartedly against her grip, clearly haranguing her, and the moment she lets him go he whirls up, yanking on her hair as she yelps. "Tsubaki! I know it's only almost, but you—ow, ow, ow!"

There are, Orochimaru thinks with amusement, some distinct similarities to Manda the first few times Orochimaru summoned him as a child. Even now, eighty years later, the snake threatens to eat him more often than not, even if it's not something he'll ever actually go through with.

"You did well," he says, and Orihime leaves off struggling with the spirit to beam at him, though her eyes instantly widen.

"Oh no!" she laments. "Orochimaru-san, you hair, I'm so sorry—"

"It's quite all right, my dear." He brushes the stands back from his face, returning her smile. "My shield would have stopped anything short of a Kage, and even then I felt it strain. You're progressing well. As I said, it all comes down to your determination."

Orihime laughs delightedly, and grabs Tsubaki again to whirl him around in an aborted dance. "We're going to save Rukia-chan!" she says. "We are! Like she's a princess in a fairy tale, and we get to be the prince—no! We get to be the dragon! Rarr, raarr, I'm going to stomp on you!"

Chuckling, Orochimaru leans down to collect her abandoned bento and the cloth wrapping. "Will the dragon kiss the princess in this tale, then?" he asks.

"K-k-kiss Rukia-chan?" Orihime stutters, and crimson floods her face as she wheels backwards, waving her hands. "That's the prince's job! I couldn't—she wouldn't want—"

"Dragons should get far more credit than they're given," Orochimaru tells her, pressing the box into her hands like he's presenting her with a secret. "Don't you think so, my dear? They have to be very brave to protect the princess from all the dangers."

Orihime stares at him for a moment, then glances down, smiling almost shyly. "Rukia-chan is too strong to just be a princess," she says. "She's—she's fierce. I want to be that way, too."

"Just imagine how the tales would go if the princesses saved each other," Orochimaru tells her, tipping her chin up with a finger. When she blinks at him, he smiles, sly and secretive. "Who needs a prince, my dear, when both of the princesses are so strong and brave?"

Orihime beams back, bright and happy, and before Orochimaru can react she throws herself forward and hugs him tightly. "Thank you, Orochimaru-san! Thank you so much!"

Orochimaru blinks down at her for a long moment, startled, and then smiles and shakes his head. He pats her back gently, and says, "You, my dear, will be far more trouble that Rukia's captors could ever prepare for."

Orihime laughs, recognizing it as the compliment it is, and hugs him tighter.