—a/n: yay, a new story. i'm a little uncertain about this one, but i feel like i owe you guys something since it's been a month and i still haven't updated any of my multi-chapters (sorry 'bout that). anyways, hope you enjoy~! (^_^)

a few notes: the story takes place when ichi-kun is fifteen, as well as the rest of the gang; they're fresh in high school. also, ichigo doesn't have any shinigami powers (yet). last thing, past-tense is younger ichigo and present-tense is fifteen year-old ichigo. hopefully, this will clear some things up.

(disclaimed!)

you are my sunshine, brightest
she was the sun that shone in the storm

.

.

"does it rain up there at all?
because it's pouring down here."

.

.

Pitter. Patter. Pitter. Patter.

The rain fell in soft, steady beats, all in a peaceful way. Each drop was released from the dark, cloudy sky above and surrounded the boy sitting on the damp grass below, across the flooding river. The rain softly thumped against his umbrella, making his sniffles inaudible, as his long fingers cascade through the Earth's carpet. A sudden gust of wind whirled about, sending cold chills down his back.

Such sensation he felt when she was killed at the very spot.

The boy vigorously shook his head, trying his best to remove all of the memories of his mother. His entire body buckled, his ears ring. A trembling, keen noise exited from the back of his throat and out his parted lips.

Don't...

Don't cry...

And, yet, the tears fell.

After one tear left his warm, chocolate-like eyes, more and more escape as well, streaming down his tinted-red cheeks. Hiccups escaped his mouth, and he roughly gripped onto the grass resting underneath him.

How many tears? How many tears has the troubled boy shed for his mother? How many times has he came back to that exact spot? The very spot where she died in his tight grasp as his rough, soiled hands turned blood-red while he screamed, "Don't die!" How many times until he could move on?

His throat began to burn, resulting for his sobs to die down. As his tear-filled eyes slowly open, he noticed a pair of small, bare feet in front of him. He quickly blinked, ascertaining that the feet were not a figure of his imagination, and glanced up to notice a person tightly gripping an umbrella in one hand and a pair of bright, yellow rain boots in the other.

The first thing the boy noticed is the person's hair. It was short and bright, like his. His eyes lowered to the person's eyes. The wide pair of azures, deep gray and emotionless, stared back at him as the person's soft, cherry-red lips slowly parted.

"What's wrong?"

The boy's dark brown eyes widen, his face bright red. He quickly wiped his running nose with his shirt sleeve. He was so focused on her face to realize that the person was a girl.

"A-Ano... it's nothing," he murmured under his breath, his stance towards the ground as he nervously tug at the grass.

The girl frowned. "Then, why are you crying?"

The boy remained silent, dodging the girl's question, as he shifted his eyes towards another direction. After a moment in silence, the boy glanced at the girl again, meeting his eyes with hers. She was the first to break the silence. "I'm Inoue Orihime. What's your name?"

The boy frowned before hesitantly answering, "K-Kurosaki Ichigo."

The girl's eyes widened. "Wha~? A strawberry!?" Her excitement-filled face soon turned into disappointment. "Eto, you don't look like a strawberry..."

"Well, you don't look like a princess!" Ichigo quickly shot back, unaware of his harsh words. The girl's gray eyes widened from his cold remark and began to moisten, as if she was on the verge of tears. The boy's eyes widened as well. "G-Gomenasai! I didn't mean for you to cry! Y-You look like a cute princess!"

Ichigo quickly covered his mouth as his face turned crimson, for he didn't mean for those embarrassing words to slip out. The girl's pout suddenly shifted into a smile, "Eh? I do, Strawberry-kun?"

"U-Un. You do..." He blushed even more, to such extent that his cheeks began to burn. Suddenly, his eyes expanded as he feels the girl pat his head, giggling and smiling.

And he thought about the warmth of her hands on his head, replacing the depressing thoughts of his mother that soon fade away.

.

.

and the rain,
it seemed,
suddenly stopped pouring.

.

.

The thick, icy wind suddenly blow through the open window, snapping him from his cluttered thoughts. An infamous scowl creeps onto his face as he release a long, audible breath.

He was thinking about her again.

He rests his chin on the palm of his hand as his eyes slowly shift around the room.

Ishida Uryuu is closely paying attention to Sensei as he vigorously take notes, Yasutora Sado fiddles with his coin, Arisawa Tatsuki stares towards the front of the room, motionlessly and solemnly. He follows her eyes and they land on an empty desk in front of hers. He grunts and quickly revert his eyes towards the open window, at the cloudy skies.

.

.

it had something to do
with the rain.

.

.

After the two first met, Ichigo had told her she was crazy, that she was going to catch a cold, but soon his own selfishness convinced him to stop. The sound of rain pounding against his rooftop always made him excited. He would run to the window, and sure enough, she was there.

In the middle of the road, in front of his house, was Orihime, dancing in the rain, rain boots in one hand and an umbrella in the other. No matter what time of day it was, no matter how much rain there was, he would watch her. Her bright, red-orange hair swayed, dampening with her skin, and her smile radiant, like the sun. She was the sun that shone in the storm.

But he would never tell her that.

.

.

you are my sunshine,
brightest.

.

.

It was eight o'clock in the morning, and he was running late.

Thirteen year-old Ichigo frantically tripped into his pants, throwing on his uniform that laid beside his bed. His tooth brush was nowhere to be found, resulting for him to squeeze a dime-size amount of toothpaste on his finger and brush it against his teeth. He was a mess, he knew it, but he couldn't be late.

He slipped on his tennis shoes and ran outside, only to be greeted by a thunder storm. In response, he sighed at the sky, automatically soaked by the rain. He glanced over the street, and she was there.

Since she didn't go to the same school as him, she wore a different uniform with bright, yellow rain boots. She had a huge smile on her face as she hummed, her eyes closed while she swayed in the pouring water. Her hair bounced off her shoulders, her skirt flutters in the wind.

Ichigo frowned as he was greeted by her loud, high-pitched voice.

"Ohayo, Strawberry-kun!" She shouted with hands vigorously shaking in the cold, damp air.

He bit his lip. There was something about that nickname that nearly drained the life out of him. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and slowly made his way towards the girl in the middle of the damp street.

"Ohayo, Hime," he huffed, slightly exasperated, attempting to avoid eye contact. Yet, it became much more difficult when she danced and pranced and skipped around him with her eyes half-lidded and a large, toothy smile on her face.

'She's unpredictable, unique,' he thought as she twirled and whirled about. It was as if she would morph into a transformation of personalities, a different person entirely. When the icy cold droplets pelted her skin, she was much more bubblier, more carefree. And, embarrassingly, he enjoyed every part of it.

Suddenly, Ichigo gasped as she reached for his hand, gesturing for him to spin around with her. His face shifted into a deeper shade of red, seeing her so close, so near to him that he could count the raindrops that littered her hair.

"No, I—" He started, trying to break away from her grasp. Yet, she grabbed his other hand, and he almost fainted from the warmth emanating from her soft skin.

(How could anybody be so warm in the cold rain?)

She tugged his body towards hers, and this time, he didn't refuse the touch. Something about her smile made the ends of his mouth tug, as though he wanted to smile back.

He hadn't even realized it yet… but they were dancing.

The rain pouring on their skin flicked off at random angles as she swayed, and he, in turn, did the same. There was a rhythm to it, a rhythm to the way she moved, the way her laugh rang throughout the cold of the morning, the way the pounding of the rain on the sidewalk melted away, and all he could hear was her.

All he could feel was her hand cupped inside of his, all he could register was the way that his hand coiled into the back of her skirt, all he could see was the way her hips were swaying and how her eyes were sparkling as her bangs began to stick to her face.

Never had he seen anything so beautiful. He was sure of it.

Her warmth was what made everything so intoxicating, addicting. Even as they would separate for a moment and the cold water would invade him, he would slip back to her and suddenly be wrapped in a prickling sensation that tickled his insides.

Suddenly, his eyes widened, "Shit, I'm late!"

He quickly grabbed his backpack off the sidewalk and started to run towards the direction of his school. He turned back around to her, and for some reason, he threw her a smile and a quick wave.

And she smiled. And she started dancing again.

.

.

and it was still
the most beautiful thing
he had ever seen.

.

.

As he walks home, his eyes are connected to the ground, noticing how the roads are coated by the rain. They glisten, the shallow glow from the post lights shine around him. He frowns as he nervously stuff his hands in his pockets.

(Because this will be the first time he visits her in three months.)

Finally, he shuffles to his destination and walks up to one of the post lights. There is no light bulb in it, and it is slightly bent and scratched up, unlike the other ones. A glass vase is turned onto its side with brown, withered flowers inside. Weeds begin to grow from the cracks in the sidewalk and nearly reach his knees. He scowls before crouching down and ripping them from their roots, revealing a small tombstone that is attached to the sidewalk.

.

.

it read,
"Inoue Orihime."

.

.

Orihime's dancing continued for two years. During this time period, the two managed to get excepted into the same high school and placed in the same classroom together. When the day before the acceptance ceremony came along, it happened.

Fifteen year-old Ichigo went to get groceries for his sister, Yuzu, in the morning. It was cloudy, the sky was dark, so she told him to take an umbrella just in case. To her intuition, small droplets pelted on him when he exited the store. As he walked home, he was in hope to see Orihime on his street. When he neared his block—

he was greeted by sirens and police cars and mourning people and an ambulance instead.

And Ichigo felt as if his heart stopped beating.

He quickly ran over and tried to look over the large crowd of observers, but it was no use. He started flinging questions, "What's wrong? What's going on?"

A woman turned and chewed her lip sadly at him. "Some girl got hit by a car this morning. They say she was just standing in the middle of the road… it's a hit and run… Unfortunately, the clinic doesn't have the materials needed to a proper procedure on her."

Ichigo's mind went blank.

"Is she alright? They're taking her in the hospital, right? Please, I need to know—" Ichigo's voice was interrupted by a police officer.

"Un, it's a D.O.A."

No.

No.

Fuck no.

Immediately, Ichigo's hands released the grocery bag and quickly ran to the ambulance parked in front of the clinic. Next to the vehicle was his father and two sisters. He glanced at them nervously, hoping that the police officer was delusive. Yet, the three gave him watery eyes and solemn-like faces. Ichigo's cursed under his breath before entering through the back of the ambulance.

And, there, was Orihime's body, mangled and covered in blood.

Suddenly, his skin was tingling, nerves were pulsing, heart trying to purge itself from the position in his throat.

"Orihime, " he whispered, softly tugging at her sides—hoping, praying—for her to move, to speak. The longer he waited, the longer he suffocated in agonizing silence. She wasn't moving, bulging, and he felt as if his world shattered, darkened, without his sunshine in it. His hands move quicker, vigorously. "Orihime! Orihime!"

Suddenly, hands wrapped around his form and roughly moved him away from the frail body. Ichigo began to fight against the hands, shouting profane words and throwing violent fists.

"No! Shit! Let me go!" The arms didn't bulge. "Get away! She needs me! She's in there, and she fucking needs me!"

The back doors of the ambulance truck closed, and the driver began to pull away. Ichigo tried to pull the arms off, to run back to Orihime, but it was too late. The vehicle quickly pulled off, taking Orihime's body away from him, taking the sun in his world away from him.

Tears were stinging his eyes. It hurt to breath; it hurt everywhere. His entire chest was pounding, and he fell to the ground, his shoulders shaking as he clenched his teeth, roughly and tightly. A few people asked if he was okay, gripping his shoulders as he shrugged them off. He glanced up with watery, red eyes, and watched the ambulance truck disappear from his vision.

"Orihime!"

.

.

but she didn't
answer back.

.

.

Orihime...

His fingers clench tightly onto the handle of his umbrella. He scowls as each and every sound and movement of the memory glued into the back of his mind, replaying over and over and over again. He grunts, reaches into his bag and retrieves a couple of flowers he picked on the way home. He replaces the dull, withered flowers in the vase that resided on her grave with bright, yellow ones.

And he thinks of her in a yellow dress, swaying, smiling, sparkling with droplets. The last time he saw her in, the last time he danced with her. Hesitantly, he slowly walks into the middle of the street and, for the last time, he begins to dance in the rain.

He didn't care if he looks stupid, if he is ruining his hard-built reputation; he only wants her there with him, where she belongs. While he dances, he gets a strange feeling. He could have sworn he could feel her with him. He could feel her breath on his face, her smile tainting her lips, her laughter surrounding him just like the rain…

And for the first time in three months, he feels warm.

He sighs deeply, running a hand through his bright-orange hair. As he turns onto his heels and leaves, the strange feeling returns. Now, it was stronger than ever. Hesitantly, he slowly shifts his head, and his dark, chocolate eyes widen.

Because right there, next to him, in the middle of the street, wearing a bright, yellow dress was Inoue Orihime. And, damn, was she brighter than ever. He hopes it isn't figment of his imagination; he watches her, mostly, just watches and it's enough, it really is.

As if feeling his presence as well, she turns her head, eyes expanding when she notices the teen. She quickly stops dancing and nervously fiddles with her hands; it is a habit of hers as he recalls. Then, with a determined glint in her eyes, she slowly makes her way towards the teen. When she is close enough, Ichigo extends his arm to touch her, but his hand only transcends through her body.

"H-Hime," Ichigo whispers breathlessly under his lips; he glances at his hand and back at her body that wasn't so bright anymore. A lump begins to form in his throat, his ears begin to ring. Her voice, her high, high voice... He wants to hear it so badly, he needs to hear it so badly. "Hime!"

Sudden tears swell in the Orihime's eyes, and she only stares at him, as if she is unable to answer his cries and shouts. As her appearance begin to dissolve and disappear from Ichigo's vision, her soft, pink lips part, murmuring something under her breath as she slowly become transparent and fade.

"I-Ichigo... Arigatou..." His eyes widen as he stares at her with watery eyes. The remaining body that wasn't so bright was slowly leaving him. Again. Right when he could ask why before it is too late, she answers softly—

"... for being my sunshine, brightest."

.

.

and he stood there,
alone.

.

.

the end.

—e/n: (1) d.o.a. - death on arrival

i always wanted to do a story where it focused on the concept of ichigo and orihime being the "sun" of each other's life. rukia may have stopped the rain, but i feel as if orihime brought life and brightness to ichi's life as well, seeing how his attitude and emotions lightens up when he's around her. but, of course, that is my opinion. ugh, i hope this story wasn't confusing for you guys. i tried, really.

review please. i'd love to know your input on the story. :3

-audrey