Characters: Ishida, Orihime
Summary
: Ishida decides the universe is trying to tell him something when he reads the message in the fortune cookie. Maybe I should buy lottery tickets too.
Pairings
: IshiHime
Warnings/Spoilers
: No spoilers
Timeline
: During time skip
Author's Note
: The thought of a fortune cookie meddling in someone's love life was too priceless to pass up.
Disclaimer
: I don't own Bleach.


Admittedly, Ishida knows that living off of just Chinese takeout half the time can't be good for him, but it's cheaper than the grocery store and it's easier to just pick up some pre-prepared, warm food and have that for supper.

That and, like millions of other consumers, he likes the fortune cookies the cashier packs inside the bags with the food.

"I'd like the pot stickers, too."

Orihime's voice floats from the cashier's desk and Ishida shoots a sideways glance at her as he takes a fortune cookie out of his own bag and splits the cellophane wrapping. They met here by chance, though Ishida's starting to suspect that these coincidences are maybe a little more than that; he's never been one to have great faith in coincidences.

Cracking open the fortune cookie—Ishida can recall all too vividly the one time (only once; he didn't need to be taught the lesson twice) he popped a fortune cookie in his mouth without taking the slip of paper out first; predictably, when he retrieved it, it read something along the lines of 'Look before you leap'—Ishida slides the little slip of paper out and wonders what sentence ripped straight from the lines of a self-help book will be featured this time.

"See you tomorrow!" Orihime calls as she leaves, smiling and waving.

Ishida quirks a small smile that manages to look more like the expression of a man in pain and nods.

When he returns to the message, he immediately does a double take, eyes going wide.

What the—

'Faint heart never won fair lady.

'Lucky Numbers: 6 22 28 35 64.'

It's at this moment, with a raised eyebrow, that Ishida decides that the universe is trying to tell him something, and that it must be really desperate since it's resorted to slipping its subliminal—or not so subliminal—messaging into the messages in fortune cookies.

Ishida's brow furrows as he bites into the first half of the cookie itself, contemplating the possibility that he's not all that subtle at all and is so obvious that even cosmic forces have picked up on the fact that he's in love with Inoue-san.

He rolls his eyes. Maybe I should buy lottery tickets too.