Title: A Heart's Disability
Author: The Dessa
Rating: T
Summary:For FLOL's Tanabata Competition 2012. Miss Inoue is severed from London and all aristocratic circles, only to be banished to Ireland under socially unfavourable circumstances. She then meets Ichigo Kurosaki, an uncouth uncultured uneducated impoverished farmer, but he decides that curing his disabilities are worth the mortification if only to recieve her good opinion.


A Heart's Disability

The year was 1844, Queen Victoria sat on her throne and the streets of London churned with the fruits of the industrial revolution, smog clouded the streets and smudged grey colour into the sky. But this could not tint the gaiety of those living in affluent Kensington, for a scandal had erupted; providing delicious gossip for the inhabitants to sink their voracious teeth into.

Meanwhile Miss Orihime Inoue paced maddeningly in front of her father's grand study table, tears trickling slowly down her cheeks as she tried to explain her innocence for the seventh time.

'I have done nothing father! Mr Nnoitora has spoken nothing but lies in order to legitimise his own position in this scandal!'

Mr Inoue looked on in boredom, 'Your own testimony means nothing in these circumstances, whether the act has been committed or not, your virtue is now non-existent.'

'But I am virtuous! As God as my witness I speak the truth father!'

'I sympathise,' he did not, 'but the truth means nought to you now. We shall have to direct your future away from matrimonial opportunity.'

Miss Inoue was still desperate, 'I have had not one half ounce of an illicit relationship with Mr Nnoitora. He forcefully kissed me! If only God Almighty enabled me the opportunity to turn back time I would have run away before he could have reached me.'

'Yes well, the world now believes that you share a more physical relationship. One that inhibits you from marriage, or the entry to any good society. I cannot remedy this. People are already talking and I have already received notes of condolence.' Orihime sat down and sobbed, continuously. 'Your aunt sends her love by the way.'

'Oh what is to become of me?' Mr Inoue strained to hear his daughter's question, as her face was obstructed by the palms they had currently sunk into, the he realised how inconvenient it was to his ears to discern the muffled voice, hence he subsequently stopped.

'We shall have to send you away, your face will not be tolerated in London anymore.'

'Leave London?'

'Yes, I suggest the country, Ireland should be distant enough I believe. Therefore, I shall secure a cottage for you and you may happily grow into a spinster there.'

Orihime sobbed again, an image of her aged and wrinkled, embroidering a wilting flower onto a piece of linen flooded her mind and she fell to her knees in despair.

'Oh father! I cannot become a spinster! I so wished to be married. I am not yet nineteen! Surely my youth may vouch a second chance?' Mr Inoue walked around his large varnished wood table and gently picked up his daughter. 'I have done nothing wrong father! I swear it! It is only Mr Nnoitora's anger of my rejection that caused all this wreck!' He led Orihime to a seat and held her hand.

'Orihime, child, I understand this is trailing for you,' he did not, 'but you need to call forth courage from the soul. Many a worse thing could have happened than just forsaking your virtue to the wrong man.'

'I have not given my virtue to any man! It is whole and in tact!'

'That is inconsequential. My dear. Prepare to be sent to Ireland where the endless rain may outweigh your morose mood, but I shall allow the comfort of a maid to accompany you.'

Orihime was silent. Her father sometime ago dropped her hand. 'You will no longer hold a fortune of fifteen thousand pounds.'

'Y-you are revoking my inheritance?'

'Yes, yes I am.'

'B-But w-why? How am I to live?'

'Fear not, you shall live simply. As to your inheritance, you will receive a small annual income until my death where you will have to act independently. It will not do for society to believe I am not vexed at my daughter's promiscuity.'

'But I have done nothing!'

'And I believe you,' he did not, 'but I must act as society sees fit. 'The only solution is to accept Nnoitora's proposal.'

'I could never condemn my life to an unhappy marriage, I'd rather have none at all.'


*


Three days passed, Orihime and her favourite maid, Miss Tatsuki, began their long horse drawn journey to the rolling hilly planes of Ireland. Her father was true to his word and it rained constantly making a mockery of Spring. Tatsuki did her best to cheer her mistress, but nothing could induce her to bear the burden of a smile. At last they had reached the tiny village of Glencrue, where they were then redirected to Avalon cottage; a cold and small but comfortable abode. If Miss Inoue's spirits had not been so low she would have further enjoyed the beautiful scenery the lands offered.

Her first day in Irish residency allowed her employment, and the gift of distraction; for the countless trunks she had to unlock and the few rooms she was allowed to decorate provided her liberation from her tortured mind and anxiety for her future. She found it strange to be cleaning though, Tatsuki insisted on doing it all herself but Miss Inoue craved work, and so her maid kindly taught her what to do. When the cottage was ready and offered her no occupation, she took to reading. She had brought her huge collection with her from London, it was a priceless collection, her favourite was 'Emma' by a lady unknown. But soon the silence in the durations between boredom and reading grew too loud and Orihime feared her own mind would crack.

'Tatsuki please! I beg of you so! Let me go to the market with you! I cannot bear another minute of breathing the insipid air of this cottage!'

'You know why I cannot do that miss. I'll get into trouble with the Master.'

'Father won't ever hear of it! I promise!'

'And what if you get lost?'

'I'll be on your arm consistently. You have my word Tatsuki!' the maid was very fond of her mistress, she treated her almost like a sister, but she knew that the most innocent of situations could turn lethal whenever Miss Inoue were involved, which is what brought them to Ireland in the first place. But she could not refuse her, it was her weakness.

'Oh alright, but Miss Orihime, you must listen to my every word.' She nodded her head vivaciously, her face glowing in a happy smile. It had been some duration since she had seen Orihime smile.


*


A few miles walk brought the two ladies to the closest town, the clouds had given up their reins of misery and separated for the sun to shine melodiously, inciting mirth into the happy townsmen. Woman's skirts swished, men's loud voices boomed, selling fish, meat and vegetables, children's feet tapped as they ran on the cobbled streets and horses' hooves galloped as they pulled heavy carts of flour. There were so many stalls, not as great a count as London's Portobello Road, but the stalls held many Irish delicacies and books she had not seen of before. Miss Inoue made to purchase a few, but Miss Tatsuki discreetly informed her they hadn't enough money for sugar let alone more books.

'But that must be nonsense! Surely my father can spare a few pennies more.'

'I'm afraid Miss, your father has not spared us money enough for a pebble of coal. We are now officially poor.'

'Poor?'

'Yes poor.'

'Well poverty doesn't seem so bad. I am determined to make the most of it!' and she graced her maid with a beautiful smile, one that caught the appreciative attention of the working gentleman around them, but attention was drawn to her already by her fine clothes, elegant bonnet and fair jewellery. She also caught the attention of a local fruit and vegetable seller, Miss Inoue had not noticed him until Tatsuki had directed them towards his stall. When she came face to face with him she could not fathom how his appearance had evaded her eye. He was tall, exceedingly so, with athletic bulk that made him appear intimidating, the most striking feature he had was such beautiful orange hair. It was brighter than her own, though with so many different shades that they amalgamated to form a majestic red. His face was handsome, despite it hiding beneath a layer of staining dirt and grime. Orihime noticed that most of the working peasants of the town were not as perfectly dressed as her, but they had at least clean faces and only patched not dirty clothes. This man on the other hand didn't seem to mind how uncouth he appeared, but she was completely absorbed by his eyes, they were as perfect a colour of golden amber as the Sahara desert.

'Hello.' She greeted, the man started and looked down, afraid he was caught staring but neither were conscience of their staring at each other; having been too far absorbed in their own observation. Tatsuki glanced at her mistress in intrigue. The man said nothing, but brought his hands on the edge of his stall, fiddling with the splints that cracked off the side of the wooden table.

He still said nothing, but Miss Inoue was not discouraged, 'I'm Miss Orihime Inoue,' she stuck her gloved hand out gracefully, 'How do you do?'

The man stared at the hand as though it would detonate, he looked back and forth from the lady's face to her hand. Confused and bashful, he shook her hand gingerly, his grip was so slack she was afraid her hand would fall out of his. 'Ichigo Kurosaki.' She was surprised at the thick Irish accent that had spilled forth, it was heavy, scratchy and fluid at the same time, and she found that it appealed to her greatly. She would make a bass singer out of him one day. Neither noticed Tatsuki's disapproving glare.

'You sell fruit and vegetables?' Orihime asked kindly, she was always taught to formulate pleasant conversation, and she was also motivated by her allergy to awkward silences.

He nodded, it appeared he had exhausted his capacity for speech.

'Tatsuki, will we be needing any fruit of vegetables?'

'As a matter of fact we do.' And Tatsuki proceeded to ordered what was necessary, Miss Inoue proceeded to shock all who foresaw her when she aided her maid in carrying the purchases.

'Well, Thank you Mr Kurosaki, I hope we may be able to see you next week.' As Orihime was about to wave goodbye, the man stepped away from his stall called forth an older man, one with an alarming visage of facial scars and spiky black hair, who started to mind the vegetable stall. Just then the orange haired man took the ladies' packages.

'You live at Avalon Cottage?'

Miss Inoue nodded in confusion, the man nodded again, 'I'll make sure they're on the kitchen table.' He proceeded to walk away, leaving the ladies in stunned silence.

'H-has that man just stolen our vegetables?' queried Orihime, her face blank.

'No, he's delivering them,' discerned Tatsuki vaguely, as though she didn't understand either.

'Oh.'

'I still need salt, come on Miss.'

They resumed their shopping and had enjoyed it for the first five minutes until titters of criticism met their ears.

'…heard she ran into trouble in London'

'Her father threw her out...'

'Sold her virtue.'

'No fortune to her name.'

'Thinks she's better than us.'

'…she's seducing our boys.'

'Making Ichigo do favours.'

'Manipulative.'

'Shameful!'

Tatsuki glanced around angrily at the crowd, but she stopped when she noticed her mistress' tearful face and her anger quelled into sadness, 'Let's go Miss. Let's go.' And she easily dragged her distressed friend and employer away.


*


Orihime had not dared to venture beyond ten yards from Avalon Cottage over the next month, her already depressed spirits had suffered further lacerations by the whipping tongues of the local townsmen and women and she felt afraid of facing them again. She had felt so acutely their accusations, while her maid felt all their injustice. What surprised Tatsuki over the next fortnight was the almost regular appearance of the man called Kurosaki, she had learnt that he was Avalon Cottage's neighbour, for his humble abode, that which he shared with his aunt and uncle, was only located a mile away. The uncouth man had passed by several times on Sunday afternoons to chop wood. Despite Tatsuki's surprise at his presence when she had not requested him, she had offered to pay him for his efforts and she was equally astonished to hear him mumble a hasty negative and retreat from her as fast as possible.

She could not fathom his reasoning, and the next weekend she made it clear to him that despite her and her mistress being only two women alone, they remained perfectly capable of looking after their own household… Tatsuki's face turned almost puce in anger when he pointedly ignored her and carried on chopping wood on an old tree stump. The puce colour only resumed such a state for a few moments as her face morphed almost instantly into intrigue when the orange haired man stilled suddenly upon observing the arrival of her mistress; who stepped out into the front lawn with her overalls to pluck spring flowers from the shrubbery. Once she was out of sight he had continued to hail down his axe upon to the unsuspecting blocks of wood. Tatsuki narrowed her eyes but said nothing more and removed her person from the gardens.

Tatsuki was highly intrigued when she once noticed Miss Inoue speaking to their orange haired helper one Sunday afternoon in the beginning of April, she managed to dissolve her guilt in the pit of her stomach as she eavesdropped onto their conversation from the kitchen door.

'I wish to thank you for help your help Mr Kurosaki, but you must know it is entirely unnecessary if you refuse to accept payment for your labour.'

'I do not want your money Ma'am,' replied he with his course voice and thick Irish accent, but Tatsuki noticed that it was probably the most polite he had managed in all their dialogue.

'Then please do not attempt to help us further, I am afraid of the townsmen speaking ill of you for being so kind to us.'

He shrugged his large shoulders, 'I don't care for them nosy people.'

'Then why do you come here every Sunday?'

He blushed, faintly at first but its intensity grew cumulatively. 'I fancy the exercise is all.'

'But Mr Kurosaki, I thought you work on your uncle's farm? Does it not supply adequate physical exercise?'

He coloured deeper and struggled to say something, his axe shaking in his hands. 'I can leave if you wish me to Miss.' His voice took such a soft tone that even Tatsuki felt its sadness.

'Oh no! That is not my wish at all!' Tatsuki frowned in disapproval, not understanding her mistress, 'It is pleasant to see a different face on this estate.' And Tatsuki's heart wilted, understanding her mistress' lonesomeness, she finally left the kitchen doorframe when she heard the continued sound of axe against wood.


*


Miss Inoue quickly understood her father's design in sending her to the country, it was his method of punishing her by way of boredom. She was used to glamorous balls, exhilarating dances and shopping at Regent Street. Months of seclusion in the country brought her nothing, so she returned to her only solace; her library.

Orihime had diverted herself one afternoon with the notion of reading A Midsummer Night's dream again, but she quickly grew agitated when she could not find it in her proud library bookshelf. She immediately flew down the wooden staircase and ran into the kitchen where she questioned her maid. Tatsuki shook her head, not taking her eyes off the chicken she was boiling, declaring she knew not where her book could be found.

On the way back up the staircase, Orihime looked out one of the little windows at the scenery, wondering when it's novelty will wear away. But she encountered a view she was entirely unprepared for; a shirt lay discarded on a bench while a very well grown man chopped wood, the early summer sunshine hitting his back, making the sweat drops shimmer as they slowly travelled down the length of his shoulders and spine with the effort he took to swing down an axe. It was only then did Miss Inoue recognise the orange hair. Shocked at herself she viciously turned away, gasping at the transformation of Mr Kurosaki, she stood there on the small square platform in the narrow staircase telling her feet to resume their path, instead they turned her body around and naturally her head could not help but follow the involuntary inclination and look outside. She soon grew hypnotised by the fluidity of her neighbour's muscular movement that she completely disregarded how voyeuristic she was being.

Tatsuki, realising she had misplaced her broom and bucket upstairs made her way to retrieve them, only to be bemused by her mistress starting out the window. 'Miss Orihime, why are you standing in the middle of the staircase?' But her mistress did not hear her, nor did she respond, she simply continued her gaze, so the maid joined her to discover the cause.

'Miss Orihime! This is highly improper!'

'Hmm?' she replied, not moving her head.

'You should not be looking upon a man in a state of undress!'

The lady waved her maid's reprimand away, 'it is only the shirt, nothing harmful.'

'Miss Orihime, you really mustn't!' chided Tatsuki.

'This could hardly harm my reputation further,' but Tatsuki had had enough and gently prodded her up the rest of the steps.

Miss Inoue proceeded to mourn the loss of her book when it did not miraculously appear over the next few days. She allowed herself to divulge instead in another book, Oliver Twist, one of her recent favourites, but she now looked upon it with a different eye. Before her reputation tore to tatters she had dreamed of improving the lives of those around her, reading the book now caused her simple pain for she knew her life would never alter from the monotonous tone it had already taken.

However, she experienced a more acute pain the next week when she could no longer locate Oliver Twist from her book shelf. Again she made enquiries to her maid, who declined any knowledge of Oliver Twist's whereabouts.

At first Orihime was only forlorn at the disappearances, but she soon grew anxious for the safety of her other books when more literature faded from her library, leaving only futile space between the tomes.


*


A few weeks later when the June heat was glowing in all its glory, Orihime sat in her parlour room writing a brief letter to her father, pleading for more funds. She had not discussed it with Tatsuki, for she did not want to insult her friend and maid's excellent housekeeping skills, however, their sugar bowl was empty for five days of the week and their flour supply could not be thought of as adequate. When Orihime had offered to sell her jewellery, Tatsuki had nearly pinched her for even thinking it, but her feelings of helplessness remained. She had lately understood poverty, despite her perfect gowns and white gloves, poverty was seeping inevitably into her life and the annual stipend was hardly feasible for both her and Tatsuki's needs.

She had chosen this moment to write her father as Tatsuki had just quit the cottage to acquire more necessities from the Saturday market with a female friend she had recently made; the daughter of a baker. A blot of ink slashed across the paper when Orihime heard a noise coming from downstairs, she knew it could not have been her maid as she had left at least twenty minutes ago and the noise was too heavy to be caused by a women. Carefully Orihime stood up and in her panic, searched for a weapon. Her eyes caught a simple candlestick holder and she grabbed it with all her mounting fear. Slowly she opened the door, praying she would not encounter anyone. Her feet made no noise as they crept down the staircase; she thanked God that no floor panels creaked. The noise was coming from her living room and it grew clearer as she approached. Orihime made a quick prayer, her hand on the door handle, in her fear she shut her eyes and opened the door.

The candlestick dropped from her numb hand when her eyes opened to the sight of orange hair.

'M-Mr Kurosaki?' she asked, her voice several octaves too high, for he was shuffling through her books and already had two tucked under his arm, his shocked eyes were wide with guilt and shame. 'Wh-what is the meaning of this?' she was confused and strangely hurt, as though a confident had betrayed her.

'I-I thought you and the other lass had left.'

'Tatsuki left with a friend…'

They stood in petrified silence.

'H-have y-you been stealing books from here Mr Kurosaki?' her words were like fire, he immediately dropped what he had been carrying and bowed very low to her.

'I-I a-am v-very sorry my lady.' His voice was cracked with shame and humiliation, it was so heavy with mortification Orihime could only wonder if it was humanly possible to carry so much emotion, she prepared to question him more but he had immediately left. She found a chair which she realised to be out of place and sank herself into it, wondering why her neighbour would steal her books.


*


Orihime relayed the incident when her maid returned, Tatsuki was as astonished as her mistress over the occurrence and neither could draw a reasonable conclusion as to his motives, the true reason was made clear to them the next day when an unexpected visitor arrived.

Heavy knocking sounded at the front door, Tatsuki's chopping knife halted as Orihime's tea cup paused on its way to her mouth.

'Who could that be?' asked Orihime, they had never had any visitors and Kurosaki had never asked to come into their home. Tatsuki shrugged and removed her apron as she went to open the front door.

The door fell ajar to the sight of a very shabby looking woman, she was thin, but not skinny, messy haired, but not unclean and she surprisingly carried many books in a basket.

'I am here to see Orihime Inoue.' She said, her voice harsh despite the charm of her Irish accent.

'That would be Miss Inoue to you.' Hurled Tatsuki; immediately disliking the woman's attitude.

'I don't care, I want to speak to the lass!'

'It's okay Tatsuki, let her through.' Interrupted Orihime, and she graciously invited the lady into her small parlour. The lady had black hair and alarmingly only one arm, Orihime had not noticed it at first because of the thin coat she wore, but the absent limb was highly noticeable without the covering.

'My name is Kuukaku Zaraki, I am Ichigo's aunt and I have come to return your wee books.'

'Oh! Well, thank you, Tatsuki please could you get some tea and scones for Mrs Zaraki?' Tatsuki said nothing but trudged to the kitchen unhappily.

'There is no need for tea Miss,' Mrs Zaraki's tone had softened a little and held evident surprise of Orihime's politeness in offering tea. 'But I am only calling to return the books and apologise on Ichigo's behalf.'

'Thank you kindly for facing the inconvenience of carrying a heavy burden. I had not known Mr Kurosaki had wanted any books, I would have gladly lent him some as payment for all his voluntary work.'

'He is a good boy Miss, but I fear you have been causing him doubt.'

Orihime's brows made a slight frown 'I'm sorry? I am afraid I don't quite understand.'

'He's been wanting to better himself, I don't need to tell you we are simple folk, and we have survived this way. But then he goes off wanting to read! At his age! So he steals your pretty books because he's too yellow to ask you, too yellow to say he's not clever, so he makes up for it by chopping wood!'

Orihime's astonishment had not yet caught up with her cognition and she sat, mouth hanging open in silence.

'I'm not saying you're a bad person Miss, but you would do well to stay away from me nephew and stop giving him ideas. We both know nothing good will come of it. You should stay on your high horse and leave us survivors alone.' And as abruptly as she came she emptied her basket of the books, swished her coat on and left, letting the door bang loudly behind her.


*


She could not dare to sleep that night, knowing such a tumult of drama had occurred right under her nose and she had not known a word of it. She must have slept because she had woken with the birds, even before her maid. Avalon cottage was very quiet in the morning she realised, and to give her maid a rest she decided to have a turn at making the porridge. Tatsuki had always forbidden her from such tasks; knowing her mistress had an experimental mind, but Orihime's level of helplessness had raised twelve notches within the past twenty four hours, she must do something useful before she would explode.

Just as she was about to pour water into the pot of oats a slight knock came from the hall, it was soft as though afraid to be answered.

Not thinking how bizarre it was to receive callers so early in the morning, Orihime tore her apron off and made her way to the door, opening it a crack before opening it wide when she saw the impressive build and wonderful orange hair. Kurosaki had attempted to comb his hair, it was evident because the locks had tangled even further, it even appeared as though he may sheared some of it off in frustration. His face was washed, clean and fresh but his eyes were bloodshot as though he too hadn't slept.

'M-may I come in?' she nodded and stepped back for him to enter and she invited him into her parlour. Then busied herself with making tea, that was when Tatsuki had stepped into the kitchen looking confused and angry.

'What is he doing in your parlour?'

'Shh! Shh Tatsuki, he'll hear you!' whispered Orihime.

'I don't care if mad elephants hear me! What I do care about is why you let a thief into your home!'

'Tatsuki that is rude and unkind.' Reprimanded Orihime softly, trying to place some biscuits on a plate, but her hands shook so violently causing the biscuits crumbled. Tatsuki took pity and took over her mistress' fumbled attempt at cookery.

'Tend to your guest, I'll bring the tea.' Orihime thanked her and left.

In the parlous she saw a visibly nervous Mr Kurosaki, his big stature seemed too large and awkward for her small and feminine parlour. His nervousness made him look vulnerable and he seemed almost child-like for a moment before she caught his eyes and they stared at her intensely, then he seemed to remember something and roughly stood up from his seat while he gingerly waited for his host to sit down first. She thanked him by a small smile and sat down across from him, not knowing what to say so she said nothing. Tatsuki came in to lay the tray on a small round coffee table, she gave her mistress a worried look and an obvious glare to the man, then swiftly turned on her heel and left the room.

Silence.

'How much sugar would you like?' asked Orihime, attempted to break the quiet.

'Uh- no sugar please Miss.' She nodded and poured the tea, then handed it to him, trying extremely hard not to break the delicate china in his big hands. 'I-I err... I came to apologise Miss, because of what me aunt said to you yesterday.'

'That's quiet alright, I am not really aware if I truly understood her actually.'

'No Miss, she was wrong. But I want to say sorry, for everything. Me head wasn't screwed on right. I- I just wanted to t-try re-reading some is all.'

'There is nothing wrong with wanting to read books.' Said Orihime kindly, encouragingly, 'If you wanted to my books so much all you had to do was ask. No harm will fall to you in my library.'

'Bu-But Miss, you see… the problem is … ah… I- I err… c-can't…' Mr Kurosaki's stammering became non-intelligible, his frustration had mounted so high he switched to Celtic and might have been swearing but suddenly he stopped speaking, glared down at the floor and ran his hand into his hair; messing the locks further, Orihime thought they were adorable.

It was in that brief moment of silence that comprehension dawned onto Orihime's face. 'Do you mean to say, that you… don't know… how to read?' He nodded his head in shame. 'Then why take my books?'

'I wanted to just learn some.'

'That won't help you.' He looked crestfallen in disappointment as he hung his head, 'you need to be taught.' His head sprang up as a sudden light shone across his eyes.

'Would you Miss, be uh… would you err, help me with that?'

'How do you mean?'

'Would you err… teach me?'

Orihime's mind collided with peaceful images of her undertaking the role of a teacher, a governess-like woman, being useful and helpful. 'Oh I would love to! What a remarkable idea! But I do not predict your aunt would be very happy about it, she was quite clear on that account.'

Suddenly his face contorted in anger, 'The devil damn her!'

'Mr Kurosaki! You can't speak of her like that, she only cares for you.'

Mr Kurosaki shrugged unhappily, but then readjusted his posture again, 'Would you still do it?'

She could hardly say no, 'Very well, but I don't want the townspeople to know and think badly of you.'

'They already think badly of me Miss. And I couldn't care less.'

'Why do they think so?' He shrugged, blushing faintly. He did not answer. 'Well, I don't think badly of you.' Said she, smiling sweetly, the reaction was almost immediate, he hardly knew what to do, his eyes dropped to the floor and his face coloured deeply. He almost looked lost, like an overgrown boy, vulnerable and embarrassed.


*


'I truly disagree with you Miss Orihime.' Stated Tatsuki as she continued chopping vegetables for the Irish stew she was cooking.

'I shall be teaching Mr Kurosaki literacy, further discussion will not be necessary.' Replied Orihime, who was helping her maid by kneading dough.

'The man was able to intrude into the cottage, I am very uneasy at allowing him access.' The chopping knife came down harder.

'Nonsense, all was explained and forgiven. We shall expect him biweekly for an hour. I am so very excited! It will be like employment as a governess.'

'Mr Inoue would not approve, this would hardly be acceptable in London.'

'But we are not in London. We have been banished together to Ireland where I am beginning to feel more freedom being ruined than I was with a reputation.'


*


Despite her excitement at the prospect of teaching, Miss Inoue was rather anxious when her pupil arrived for his first lesson. She was soothed somewhat when he appeared excessively more nervous than she as he shakily sat at the table.

'We shall begin by writing the letters.' She stated, he gulped apprehensively and stared at his hand in combined wonder and confusion when she placed a quill into it. She wrote the letters of the English alphabet, simultaneously instructing her pupil to observe the movements of her hand and imitate her. It was difficult at first for he was far too absorbed at the perfection of her hand to notice the course of its movements, when he forced himself to focus he managed to learn the movements while slowly memorise the image of the letters and the sounds they pertained to.

Orihime was startled in their first lesson when she noticed Ichigo's quick temper; he would rapidly grow frustrated at the belief of his inability. He had sworn loudly when he confused 'd' with 'b' and found writing 'g' particularly difficult, then he swore even louder when informed that he had to learn to write the alphabet all over again but with capitals. At first, Orihime had felt a seed of fear in her chest at the sight of her pupil's enraged red face. However, her feelings of compassion and sympathy overtook them; encouraging her to gently touch Ichigo's forearm with the tips of her fingers; which acted as an immediate sedative and calmed him down considerably.

Miss Inoue learnt that despite Mr Kurosaki's large stature and impressive build, he was actually very afraid of displaying how lacking and vulnerable he truly felt. The first moment he had looked upon the image of his own name when he had just written it, managed to spread a small smile of pride on his face, one that caused Orihime to feel as though she had tread upon something sacred and private. Knowing she had managed to affect another individual's life had cause silent elation in her heart, which spurred her forth in her excitement towards the lessons.

The gain in intellect was not the only thing changing in Mr Kurosaki, Orihime had noticed that as the weeks passed by his ability to with-hold oaths would strengthen, though the habit she knew would probably never be eradicated completely. His more cleaner attire had not escaped her notice either, though embarrassment remained on his visage at the patches on his trouser.

One fine afternoon at the beginning of autumn Miss Inoue stirred meat-less Irish stew as her pupil walked into the kitchen and she was acutely conscious of their reversed roles.

'Hello Miss,' greeted Ichigo while he lowered a small bag of dead pheasants onto the kitchen table, she blushed at the rare sight of his newly shaven face exposing a very handsome structure. One that was enhanced by its slightly whether beaten texture, a complimenting sign Miss Inoue took of experience and hard work. Her open mouthed stare was reciprocated by a quick perusal by intense brown eyes, they seemed to smile slightly when they paused at her apron; which was splattered with stock and smeared by various vegetable juices.

Miss Inoue blushed profusely at her attire, 'G-good afternoon Mr Kurosaki, h-have you brought your text with you today?' She suspected he noticed her originally noticing him, for he had failed to hide a very small crooked smirk, one could almost call it egotistical. In that singular moment her opinion of him had changed from a vulnerable boy to a confident man, making her even more aware of his muscular bulk and big frame.

'Aye Miss.' Replied he with a hint of amusement.

'G-good, that is good, let us continue then,' hence she sat down at the parlour room table, with as much professional haute grace as she could muster. The table had lately been inhabited by scrap paper, fountain pens, quills and dipping ink. She would occasionally lament her table cloth linens that were injured by blots of spilt ink, but she knew all personal sacrifice was worth aiding her student.

He sat next to her comfortably, the proximity was the same as always but on this certain occasion she seemed to feel the distance between them too far and too short at the same time. He carefully opened his book, an act which surprised her for he had been rather angry when she had first issued it to him.

'Miss… The title says 'Book on Fairy tails,'' said Ichigo when she passed him a leather bound tomb.

'You mean 'Book of Fairy Tales' and yes that is exactly what is says.'

'Meaning no disrespect Miss, but I don't think I need to read this.'

'Yes you do, this will be easy reading enough for your first book.'

'But it's about fairy tales!'

'Correct.'

'To hell with fairy tales! I want to read real books.'

'All in good time Mr Kurosaki,' but he continued his argument of how he believed it to be too childish for a man of his age, three and twenty! Hence her surprise of the careful consideration he gave the book. She suspected he grew attached to its magical and imaginative contents.

'Miss, I was wondering can we skip to this story here.' Said Mr Kurosaki suddenly, snapping Orihime back to the present.

Orihime followed his finger down the contents page to a chapter titled The cowherd and the Weaver girl 'Why do you wish to read this tale?'

'All the other stories are German,' he said by way of boredom, 'This one is from somewhere else.'

Orihime turned to the required page 'Niu Lang and Zhinu… I do believe it is China!'

'Where is China?' was Ichigo's automatic question.

'Somewhere far east, beyond India. Well then read it please, I'm interested in this tale too.'

Ichigo turned his face to the page and a scowl formed on his brow as he concentrated while he read; carefully observing each letter of the word while he read them and trying to remember the many inconsistencies of the English language.

'Once upon a time, the Jade emperor and the Ce-ce-'

'Celestial' aided Orihime, 'for that word the 'c' sounds like an 's'," she took pity on her student's frustrated face, 'you'll get there eventually.'

Ichigo would have liked to express his anger but knew nothing good could become of it; he was already used to reading all words wrong. 'and the Celestial Queen Mother had seven children, the seventh child was named Zhinu and when she grew older, was known as a very beautiful princess.' He paused for a moment and when Orihime looked up from the page she noticed her pupil had just flicked his face back towards the page, 'She lived in the heavens, weaving colours in the clouds. Zhinu had a magical robe which let her come down to earth so she could bathe. A cowherd called Niu Lang saw her,' both blushed and Orihime had wondered if this was why he had suddenly grown fond of the book, 'S-so he stole her magical robe, hence- what is the meaning of hence?'

'It means "therefore"' replied Orihime kindly, smiling slightly.

Ichigo nodded, trying not to focus on her smile, 'hence she could not go back to the heavens and became stranded on earth.' Orihime knew she would never have the courage to verbally admit that she like listening to Ichigo read, his careful consideration of every letter did not irritate her and she found his slow enunciation calming. 'Niu Lang took her and married her, for she too had fallen in love,' Orihime's calm meditation was suddenly interrupted by a snort. She brought her furrowed brows to face her pupil.

'Why are you laughing?'

'No lass would fall for a lad who stole her clothes.'

'Well maybe there were other reasons.'

'Aye, but what could a cowherd offer to the daughter of an emperor to make her happy?'

'I'm sure there were many reasons for her affections. Ladies don't seek only wealth Mr Kurosaki.' Reprimanded Orihime lightly, feeling affronted on behalf of her sex.

'Nay, that is exactly what a lass seeks.' There was a saddened expression over her pupil's eyes that she wondered if he had had an unrequited love.

'Mr Kurosaki, I have turned from rich to impoverished within one week for simply being accused of something I did not do. If I were to fool myself into believing I could marry, wealth would not be the deciding factor to the engagement now that I understand how earnest an impoverished life leads.'

A strange expression passed over Ichigo's face, it was a mixture of hope, doubt, disbelief and finally anger. 'Of course you'll get married!' The anger seemed to have conquered all the other emotions.

Orihime gazed at him with forlorn resignation, 'Unfortunately not, a lady of ruined reputation has no right to hope for her happily ever after.' Ichigo was about to say something else but was halted by his teacher's gentle order to continue reading.

'Niu Lang and Zhinu lived happily for several years and had two children. One day she discovered a box in her home which contained her magical robe. Using it she visited her father but her father was angry at her for choosing to marry a lowly cowherd, he therefore imprisoned his daughter back to the duty of weaving colours in the clouds, but they were always sad colours. Niu Lang missed his wife terribly, he was so miserable that one day an ox took pity and spoke to him; informing him that if he killed him Niu Lang could use his skin to travel up to heaven to rejoin his wife. He did so and took his two children with him and began searching. The Jade emperor discovered this and was so angry that he called upon his wife, the Celestial Queen Mother to separate them. She tore a wide river in the sky with her hair pin, forever separating the lovers. Their misfortune seemed certain, but the magpies, like the ox, took pity. Hence on the seventh day of the seventh month; the magpies united themselves to make a bridge over the river where Niu Lang and Zhinu could be together for one night every year.'

There was a tender silence where pupil and teacher sat comfortably contemplating the story.

'That was a damnable story.' Commented Ichigo.

Orihime's bittersweet joy over the tragic love story cracked, 'I beg your pardon?'

'A lad and a lass meet, fall in love, separate and then meet once a year? That's a damnable marriage that is.'

'It is a touching and dedicated one.'

'Nay Miss, it would be kinder to let each other go.'


*


The next Sunday Orihime pondered by herself over her pupil's thoughts on the Chinese story, she scrutinised her own philosophy on marriage and happiness. It left her confused and frustrated because she could not draw a veritable conclusion or solidify an opinion. She sighed over her lonesomeness, Tatsuki had travelled to London yesterday morning to visit her mother, Orihime could hardly reject the idea but still felt acutely the solitude her maid's absence brought. She wished her pupil would arrive earlier to save her from the silence. She believed her wish came true when a firm knock sounded from the front door. Immediately she made haste to open it, but the wide smile on her face vanished in shock when she perceived who stood before her.

'Good evening Miss Inoue.' Said the gentleman as he waltzed into the entrance hall, uninvited and unexpected.

'M-Mr N-Nnoitora?' Miss Inoue's eyes were wide in astonishment.

'What a sweet sound you make saying my name.' replied he, taking off his hat, gloves and coat. 'Where is your servant girl?'

'She has gone to visit her mother,'

'To London yes?'

'Y-yes.' Answered Orihime feeling confusion crawl apprehensively into her voice.

'Then I have come at an excellent time!' stated Mr Nnoitora happily, leering down at the lady.

It was then that Orihime came to her senses, 'Sir, I must ask you to leave.' Nnoitora ignored her as he strolled into her parlour room.

'Pity, I don't think I shall. Ghastly whether and all that, I intended to stay the night in your…' he cast derisive his eyes around the small room, 'wonderful abode.'

'My abode would evidently not be comfortable enough for you sir. Perhaps would find more comfort at the local inn.' Replied Orihime with as much coldness she could muster, despite the shock of seeing the cause of her ruined reputation.

He casually sat down on the only sofa and spread his arms out comfortably, 'I am more inclined to believe that I could enjoy a much more pleasurable stay in your bed,'

Her eyes widened in shock, mortification, anger and anxiety, 'I beg your pardon?'

'No need to beg, I forgive you for rejecting my proposal, but I must admit I was surprised when you did not accept to marry me a second time to salvage your reputation.'

'You mean to say, that was your design all along? To force me to marry you?'

'Of course.'

'Well I hope I am clear when I say I would never marry you.' This made the gentleman snarl angrily, but the expression left as soon as it came.

'Yes, that much was clear when you sacrificed your future. Speaking of future, how does the term spinster ring in your ears?'

'Very amicably, sir.'

'Well, If you've resigned yourself to a life of single boredom, then I would like to offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity.' Orihime nervously narrowed her eyes, but was nonetheless curious.

'And what would that be?'

He gave her modestly covered body a long deliberate perusal, 'One night with me.'

'Absolutely not!'

'Think rationally Miss Inoue. The whole world believe you to be fallen, you might as well enjoy it. And that pleasure I can guarantee. A spinster won't get a second chance.'

Orihime had had enough. 'Mr Nnoitora, you speak madness and evil and I will not tolerate it a second longer. You would do well to leave my house this instant!' her breathing grew agitated in indignation.

'This could hardly be called a house Orihime, and I don't intend to leave until I retrieve what I came here for, the journey is a very long and tedious one. After all it would be a shame to return empty handed.' Fear dispersed onto her face and she took a step back.

'You wouldn't! My father will have your head-'

'Your father would not care.' He stepped closer, causing her to retreat.

'Take one more step and I will scream.'

Nnoitora smirked wide and leeringly, a complete imitation of the Cheshire cat 'No one will hear you.'

Orihime made an attempt to run, but the crude man caught her round the middle, throwing her to the floor, the impact causing her to almost immediately lose conscience. The last though she had was deep dread as Nnoitora loomed over her and roughly grabbed her dress' sleeve to pull it down.


*


In her confused state Miss Inoue thought she heard the sound a door banging and more angry sounds, but then she realised she had only woken up in the middle of the night.

'Oww…' groaned she, raising a palm to the back of her head while she sat up in her bed. Awareness struck her when she observed she was in her own bedchamber, in her bed, wearing nothing but her chemise. Her corset and muslin gown lay on her quaint dressing table. With some effort she managed to turn her head and noticed with blushing shock a head of orange hair resting upon strong crossed arms on the side of her bed while the rest of the man sat on the floor. The rotation of her head cost her to cross the limits of her pain threshold and she groaned loudly, causing her pupil to wake suddenly.

'Miss! You are awake!'

She looked around confused, 'W-what happened?'

'I saw that damned devil from your window and ran into the cottage.' Orihime grabbed at the collar of her chemise in fright as the memories crashed back to the front of her mind, 'He didn't touch you Miss,' he grinned slightly, 'I don't think he will be touching anything soon.'

'What draws you to that conclusion?'

'I broke his fingers.'

'Mr Kurosaki!' said Orihime, shocked but not altogether disapproving. He only grinned wider. 'Where is he now?'

'Down by the Inn, the townsfolk can't say no to a gentleman. Why did you let him inside?'

'I thought it was you when the door knocked. Then he helped himself to my parlour room.'

'Did you know him?'

'Oh yes. He was the man who shredded my reputation.'

'God damn it all! If I had known I would've broken all his bones.'

'Well it was a good thing you did not, his father is a member of the courts. He could easily sent you to the Tower.'

'Not if I kill him first.'

'I suppose you do not favour us aristocrats much.' Stated Orihime throatily, her mouth dry and weak.

'No, but it is rare to see a good man walk out of those big manors.' He passed the lady a glass of water, noticing her dry voice.

Orihime patted his arm affectionately, 'you were more of a gentleman today than Nnoitora ever will be.' She smiled widely at him with all the strength she had, 'Thank you.' He blushed to unconceivable levels, though she could not perceive the extent of it due to the darkness of the night and the guttering of the candle light. 'You may go back home now, you're aunt and uncle must be worried.'

'No they are not. I sometimes sleep in the barn when the house is too warm. They will just think I did again.' Orihime just smiled, thankful for the company.

'Why don't you live with your parents? If you don't mind me asking?' it was the first personal question she had put forward, there had always been an awkward barrier between them that inhibited her from reaching out towards him, but tonight she felt that they were simply two beings talking to each other. Perhaps it was the darkness that made Ichigo appear accessible to her, she did not know, nor did she care for the reasoning, she was only happy that the barrier was rapidly crumbling.

'They died a long time ago.'

Her eyes slanted in sadness, 'I'm very sorry to hear that.'

Ichigo gave her a very faint smile, 'It's alright. I've spent most of me life with me aunt and uncle. They've had it rough so they only think about surviving the next day, not making life better.'

'Will you leave the farm then?'

'No, but I'd like to make it bigger, breed some horses, and cattle, or something like that.'

They continued talking about their hopes and dreams until Orihime fell asleep unconsciously, her companion pulled covers over her and slept with his head by her hand.

They both woke simultaneously to the sound of an angry startle.

'WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?' two pairs of heads jerked up to flick towards a furiously red Tatsuki, metaphorical steam whistling out of her ears as her eyes jabbed from one blushing face to the next, then to the corset and dress on the dressing table.

'She did nothing-' began Ichigo until Tatsuki had forcefully grabbed his ear and dragging him out of the bedchamber and cottage as though he were a misbehaving child. 'I'll come back next week Miss.' Cried Ichigo up the staircase before he was unceremoniously thrown out. Orihime heard the front door bang decisively and a pair of angry feet making their way up the stair case.

Tatsuki, looking much more like the remaining ashes after an inferno, closed her eyes while her fingers massaging her pulsating temples and sighed, 'Explain.'

And so Miss Inoue explained the whole of her entire situation. At first Tatsuki's anger flared again at the mention of Nnoitora's presence at Avalon cottage, only to be doused again when introduced to Ichigo's real role as rescuer, hence how he came to stay the night as he had not heart to leave her alone while so vulnerable.

'I suppose I may have treated him a touch too harshly.'

'By all accounts Tatsuki you do owe him a heavy apology.'

'I suppose you are correct.' Orihime gave her a happy smile. 'However, we must do something. Mr Nnoitora cannot be trusted to avoid acting a second time. You should write to your father and inform him.'

'I doubt he will spare a shred of worry over me.'

'Nonsense, whatever your father maybe he is entitled to the knowledge of the concerns of his daughter, especially her physical well being.'

'Truthfully Tatsuki, I do not want my father to be involved, I have grown attached to the Irish lands, and knowing father he will likely be tempted to remove me to some other country when hearing a member of his acquaintance managed in discovering me.'

'If I may say so Miss Orihime, I think it possibly advantageous and beneficial to leave this country.'

'Whatever could you mean?' asked a genuinely surprised Miss Inoue, she was disquieted at understanding her maid's opinions differed on this matter to hers.

'That boy Kurosaki has been harbouring unhealthy ideas from the very moment we set foot on this land.'

'Unhealthy ideas?'

'Yes! Unhealthy ideas!' cried Tatsuki, her patience depleted, 'He excuses himself to be closer you that he voluntarily creates extra unnecessary manual effort in the process. Then he attempt to teach himself literacy in order to impress you-'

'That is entirely false! He did so to better himself-'

'And impress you my lady,' interjected Tatsuki, 'he seeks your approval at every turn and your good opinion, he even washed his dirt stained face and guarded you for a whole complete night to ensure you're safety! I have bitten my tongue every moment, but last night's show of heroics has fortified the transparency of his feelings for you and I must state clearly that I do not approve.' Tatsuki huffed at the end of her speech.

Orihime was duly speechless, she blushed, blushed some more and finally opened her mouth to speak, but only a squirrel-like squeak came out. She attempted again and managed to emit sound, 'You are like a sister to me Tatsuki, but it is not your place to speak to me so.'

'Which is why I have not mentioned a syllable beforehand, but resumed presence so close to that boy is more harmful to him and his hopes than it would be to leave immediately. You have not noticed any of his attentions, nor would you… It is not the type of flattery your normally receive, further disregard of propriety will only harm him.' It was then that Orihime's memories brought forth her time with Ichigo and indeed his emotions seemed highlighted, making her feel foolish and manipulative, but she enjoyed his company, that she was certain of.

'Whatever his feelings towards me may be, why should you conclude that hurt is inevitable for him?'

'Miss Orihime, is it not obvious? He is only an orphan living upon a farm, you are the daughter of an aristocratic family… one can only conclude that he aims too high.'

Orihime, rather than acting affronted, laughed, 'Oh Tatsuki, I am a spinster, promised to a life of solitude and monotony, forced to beg for every thread and needle, for every pound of sugar. He will marry and earn his fortune, he will travel and live life! He will be happy. He is on so many stages more fortunate than I.'

Tatsuki was truly saddened by her lady's words and tried best to comfort her despite knowing her comforts were devoid of truth. 'One day you will marry, one only has to keep to faith. After all, God and you alone know you have committed no crime.' Orihime smiled and turned away, getting ready to get out of bed silently as she had not the strength of character to refute her maid and friend's words.


*


Orihime had found the next few days scrutinising her memories of time spent with Mr Kurosaki. How she had not seen it before was truly baffling. His every motion seemed to be in a desire to aid her somehow, which is where she realised she had enjoyed the attention too, though in an entirely subconscious level. At further analysis of her feelings she blushingly accepted that she may have unconsciously encouraged Ichigo by being impressed by his physical stature, one simply could not avoid it despite how child-like he could be in his vulnerability. She was altogether very pleased yet bitterly disappointed at her pupil's absence over the last few days.

Suddenly Tatsuki flurried into the parlour room, happy to have finally found her mistress, 'Miss Orihime, a telegram just came from your father!' and she thrust out her hand with a yellow envelope in it. Orihime reached for it immediately and tore open the envelope, her eyes widened and her fingers slackened upon reading the few lines it contained. Tatsuki picked up the fallen paper and read it for herself, being one of the very few working class literate woman of her day.

Pack and be ready to leave for Scotland. Make haste, more instructions to come soon.

Guilty colour flushed Tatsuki's face as she connected with a shocked gaze from her mistress.

'You wrote my father?'

'I had to Miss. You were not going to, I could not take the risk with Mr Nnoitora only within five miles from you. Your father had a right to know.'

'My father has done nothing to preserve me. He did not fight for my honour and now he is sending me away from a place I feel some degree of freedom in.'

'Miss Orihime, you are not speaking the truth. Mr Inoue does care. Besides, he has not yet explained his reasons.'

Miss Inoue took a deep breath, attempting to control her skewed emotions. 'Very well, I suppose we have no choice but to do as told.'


*


On the morning of the following few days Miss Inoue received a letter from her father as promised; detailing her planned departure for that afternoon. She was to travel to Aberfeldy, the proximity to Loch Tay would be sufficient enough to provide an entertaining view, her father believed this would be sufficient compensation for poverty. There was the added insurance of her Mother's sister's estate, her father held greater faith of his daughter being more securely detained there.

Orihime had not time to think or worry as she and Tatsuki silently packed the last trunk. She had secretly written a short letter of farewell to her pupil, not knowing if chance would grace her with one final meeting. Miss Inoue had sealed it and walked herself to her neighbour's farm to deliver the message, taking pity on her maid who had been stretched to her limits in carrying out all the preparations.

Orihime continued walking the necessary mile until she reached the simple farm where she saw Mrs Zaraki busying herself with pulling out cabbages from the ground, her one hand stained brown from the earth.

'Mrs Zaraki, good morning.'

The lady looked up in fear, upon observing the lady in question she relaxed somewhat but her countenance still held suspicion. 'Top of the mornin to ya. How can I help ya ma'am.'

'I have been called to leave unexpectedly by my father for Scotland to stay with an Aunt. I would have liked to say farewell to your nephew myself but I have a gift instead, I am afraid I will be departing within the next few hours.'

'That's a shame Miss, but all the same, it's probably for the best. You can leave your wee gift on the kitchen table.'

Orihime curtsied to the elder who was visibly shocked by the act. Orihime then left the garden to enter the house where she realised she had entered from the dorsal root for she had stepped directly into the kitchen. It was small and cramped, it held one table and three chairs, there were empty basins lying precariously on the floor and semi cut vegetables on a solitary work surface.

Orihime searched for a clean spot on the kitchen table and laid 'Oliver Twist' with her farewell letter inside. On resurfacing to the outside air she said good bye and thanked Mrs Zaraki, then swiftly made her way back to Avalon cottage where only twenty minutes had passed when a carriage and four were waiting for her.


*


'Ichigo! There ya are lad! Where've you been?' came the happy sound of Mrs Zaraki, her husband grunted beside her, looking alarming as always.

'Down by the market.'

'That lady up at Avalon came here today. She left you something, said she was leaving.'

'Leaving?'

'Aye,'

'What did she leave me?'

'It's on the kitchen table.'

Ichigo ran immediately towards the kitchen where his worried eyes softened a fraction when he saw Oliver Twist. He picked it up and opened it, where he found a letter in Orihime's neat cursive writing. 'To Mr Ichigo Kurosaki' he read, he was able to read his name now rather quickly and he would have smiled had he not been worried at the lady's possible departure.

Dear Ichigo,

It pains me to say goodbye, but I must do as instructed by my father. I am to go to Scotland to live with my aunt. I apologise that our lessons must come to an abrupt halt, I therefore enclose Oliver Twist in the hope that he may guide you in your literacy quest. Be happy and live your life in felicity.

Your dearest friend

God bless you

O. Inoue


*


The carriage rocked as the horses galloped at a steady pace and the resonance of hooves were the only sounds to meet ears. Tatsuki, now having the presence of mind after her extremely busy few days, was acutely aware of her mistress's melancholy.

'It will be all right Miss. You'll see.' Her mistress said nothing, only nodding slightly to acknowledge her maid. Tatsuki wondered if every carriage ride would bring grey cloud of misery upon them. But her thoughts were interrupted when the horses jolted and she and her lady were forced to the ground from the impact of the sudden stop.

'Wha?'

'You crazy idiot! You could have gotten yourself killed.' Tatsuki was certain that was the coachman speaking to someone, she later realised that someone was Kurosaki as he ran towards their side of the carriage and viciously opened the door to confront Miss Inoue.

'What-' began her lady when she was interrupted.

'Don't go!' Ichigo's eyes were a madness of loss. He was panting rigorously, evidence of having run very fast. He was searching the face that looked down upon him in equal sadness.

'I-I can't Ichigo.'

'Please?'

'I wish I could. But it is my father's will.'

'Please, please Miss. Stay... Please, Orihime.' His voice was dwindling into sharp misery. Until his eyes perked hopefully when Tatsuki's mistress dared to lay a gloved hand on his cheek, bringing Ichigo's face closer.

'You have been a very dear friend to me. I will not forget you in all my life and shall always think fondly of Ireland because you live here.'

He looked as though he wanted to say something but was momentarily clamped when the lady leaned her head down and gave his forehead a gentle kiss.

'Goodbye Ichigo.' She leaned away and closed the door, a tear drop rolling down her cheek as the coachman drove on. Ichigo stood in the middle of the road, looking lost, despondent and alone.


*


Orihime reached her Aunt Restu's abode safely, and remained in equal safety for the next three years. Her father sent word to her once every season to ascertain her physical health; not comprehending a decline in his daughter's mental wellbeing was rapidly taking root and axing away her felicitous disposition. Her Aunt was a kind yet formidable lady, she was accessible to communicate with and gentle in her manners, but Orihime's heart yearned for another companion.

It had taken her departure from Ireland to realise she had grown a distinct but indefinable affection for Ichigo Kurosaki. Every day she thought of him and every night she fell asleep wondering how he must be, ether he was still on the farm or working towards greater things. She could smile to herself knowing she had indirectly caused the improvement of one good soul.

The seasons came and went, the clouds sweeping the days into different temperatures. But Orihime consistently loved the summer, for it reminded her of her days in Ireland, the sweet months she spent in being useful to the world rather than contained and made to continue pointless living. The Scottish summers were far more enjoyable than the rest of the year when endless rain would pelt the ground, making Lock Tay shimmer with countless continuing ripples.

She was mostly bored and found that speaking less was a burden less. Her one true friend, Tatsuki, was called back to London in the past year, her maid was reluctant at first but Orihime could not detain her maid from closer proximity to her mother any longer. Therefore, she was made to say farewell a second time.

Though each day of the year were monotonous and despondent in equal measure, there was one day she strove to make special and happy. The seventh day of the month of July had held a special note in her heart. She considered herself occasionally silly to liken herself to an ancient Chinese tale, but its message of hope always lightened her mood, if only for one day. She remembered reading the story with Ichigo and his sentiments of how lovers should allow each other to depart for the sake of the other's happiness, and she was proud she had let Ichigo go to be happy. She only prayed that he was happy.

The seventh day of the seventh month had come at present. The sun's rays were burning into orange, anticipating change of the day into night.

'Miss Inoue' said Joyce, her aunt's maid.

'Yes?'

'A young boy asked me to deliver this letter to you. I did not get a chance to ask any questions, he left immediately.'

Orihime picked up the letter, it was of an unfamiliar hand and she could not suppose who had wrote it. Her only correspondents were her father, former governess and of course… Tatsuki. Her father's seasonal letter had already arrived and she already posted a reply to her governess' last letter. Hence she was naturally confused as to why or who could have thought to write to her.

With a face of suspicious confusion, Orihime put down her sewing and used a simple wooden letter opener and opened the envelope.

Dear Miss Inoue,

I write this letter with the tools you taught me and will firstly express my deepest gratitude to you for transforming a hopeless man into a person of some worth to the world. Secondly, I desire you to know that my heart wholly submits itself to you. I am more confident to write to you of how fervently I love you, than face you directly for I am still a hateful coward in your presence. I have thought about none but you these past three years and have wished to marry you since before your untimely leave from Ireland, but such a sweet woman has always deserved better, a true gentleman. I would not have dared ask you, a high character of every form, to return my feelings but I would rather risk a broken heart than live a life of regret.

I was wrong about Zhinu and Niu Lang, I have learnt that absence amplifies ones feelings and cannot be recovered from easily, if at all.

I ask you, earnestly and with every fibre of my soul that you consent to become my wife, to make me the happiest man both hemispheres of the world had ever seen and to give this unworthy soul a chance at producing every effort for making you happy in reciprocation. I will be waiting until dawn by Lock Tay for your answer, if it be favourable. If not, please erase this letter from your memory.

Your servant

I. Kurosaki

Orihime was at first so astounded by the contents of the letter that she stood perfectly still, nothing but her eyes moved as they read the letter again. This seemed to have triggered a reaction for Orihime immediately tore out of her room and made towards the barn, calling out to her aunt as she ran down the staircase that she would be leaving momentarily.

'At this hour? It is getting dark already. Orihime this is quite unthinkable!'

But Orihime did not listen, she left for the barn, grabbed one of the horses and jumped on it without thought for a saddle, only the reins were placed. She then galloped as fast as she could while sitting uncomfortably with both her legs on one side of the horse.

As she approached Loch Tay she noticed a finely dressed figure with a cane standing by the bay, she slowed down her pace, suddenly growing anxiously nervous. Her stomach felt hollow and her face was blushing. When she was not twenty feet from the gentleman she noticed she was still wearing her cap and was bonnet-less, she thanked the dark which had covered the sky in the time it took for her to travel to Loch Tay while she took off her cap and tried her best to fix her hair.

The horse came to a stop and the gentleman turned around. His orange hair was still the same vibrant colour it had always been, even in the dark. Orihime stretched her face into the first true smile she had shown in three years. Her happiness shone uncontrollably from her face that her fingers were shaking as she took Mr Kurosaki's hand to help her slide down from the horse's back. Completely forgetting the horse, both parties said nothing but simply stared at each other, not quiet believing the physical presence of the other after an absence of so many days and so many months.

'Have you read my letter?' asked Mr Kurosaki, his accent still strong and proud, but his language seemed calmer, more refined. Orihime, not trusting her voice nodded her head. 'Can I dare to hope?'

She smiled wider, lighting the night as she stepped closer to him and answered with her embrace.


*


They spoke for a long time, sitting on the ground unworried about grass stains, the horse tethered safely. Mr Kurosaki had asked her how she had been these past few years and she had replied that she had stopped living until he returned to her. She asked how he found her, he had done so by enquiring firstly in London who her aunt could be and then in the local areas within a twenty mile radius until he found Aberfeldy.

He had left Glencrue some months after she did to enrol in the Navy, where he spent the next thirty months growing a capital which he used to by a poultry farm. He confessed he would never have managed without the education she bestowed upon him. The last three month he had dedicated to discovering her.

'I was only worried another had taken you before I could appeal my case.'

'You needn't have worried, no such possibility was entertained... I now realise why God planned for my ruined reputation.'

'Why do you think that?'

'Because it enabled me to meet you.' And she smiled again, her face was reacquainting itself with the expression. Her fiancé smiled in return and could not refuse himself the grace of embracing her in response.

*


Aunt Retsu was naturally shocked when Orihime returned home late, on foot, with a gentleman on her arm. She soon grew warm upon learning that the stranger had offered to marry her niece and naturally consented in the first instance of hearing the gentleman's profitable profession.

Orihime was very displeased the next morning when Mr Kurosaki called on he briefly to inform her that he was to travel to London, the motive being to beg for her father's consent for he did not think it appropriate to ask by letter.

'I apologise Orihime, but I want to make haste and marry as soon as may be. I feel I have already lost too much time.'

Her father, not being the sort to care for daughters, had given his consent within a short pause of being asked via nodding a surprised head, and asking why Mr Kurosaki did not simply enquire by letter to spare himself the inconvenience of travel.

The couple were married at the earliest moment, which was the day Tatsuki had arrived from London to act as maid of honour.


*


The new Mrs Kurosaki was pondering on why she was still made to listen to her husband's reading when he produced such flowing literature.

'You already read so wonderfully, I hardly think my presence is necessary now.'

'You presence is highly dependent on my continued literacy competency, your rewarding kisses provide me with motive to continue practicing. Otherwise I shall fall behind to rust.' Replied Mr Kurosaki while leaned in for a kiss, his wife giggled and pulled away.

'How are you to read if you kiss? You ought to finish the section and then beg for reward.' He attempted to do as she said, but was continuously distracted by the skin of her hand and arm. When he had finished she did not wait for her husband to mouth his request, she took his head and gave him a kiss for every word read.

Ichigo was highly disappointed when she stopped to greet the local Irish children that had arrived for their lessons.

He gazed at her fondly taking her seat at a large round table while the small children opened their books and ink bottles. She did not even attempt to repair her table cloths anymore.

Ichigo opened a newspaper, happy not for the first time that he could read it. But happier yet that there was a small article on the transportation of Mr Nnoitora for assaulting the daughter of a member of the House of Lords. He wished his father-in-law were more considerate of his daughter, especially on the day of his wedding when he sent word that he could not inconvenience himself to travel all the way to Ireland. However, Ichigo smiled slightly thanking Mr Inoue for his blasé attitude for he would not have met Orihime otherwise.

He liked seeing his wife best at the teaching table, spreading her skills to the young. He was looking forward to their own young one who was due in a few more months, the swell of his wife's abdomen testament to a felicitous future. Tatsuki was to be godmother. Though she had her own children to care for now too. He caught Mr Kurosaki's eye, she smiled at him from across the room.

He smiled back, thankful not for the first time that he could call Orihime his wife.


*


Notes: OMG I finished it! That was the longest oneshot I have ever written. I hope you all enjoyed it. I do have to say that this whole story was inspired by my love for Hareton Earnshaw from Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, if you haven't read it, read it now, seriously read it. If there is one point I wanted to pass through this fic it is that education is very important to the evolution of society, please support literacy with the International Book Project . It is a charity organisation that spreads learning across the globe. Happy Tanabata! I hope you get to enjoy all the yummy entries! On another note, I was pushing it with the telegram technology as it did go into a fully swing later in the 19th century.