Author's Note: I'm behind on my Kavalier fic. I know that. I'm so bogged down with school and work and trying to keep up with my anime; whenever I finally do get to work on it, I get a few paragraphs, and then its writer's block again. It's frustrating. For those who haven't read it yet, check out my profile. Reviews are highly appreciated (one Author put it very clearly "reviews are like crack").
Summary: This is my Bleach: "Hollow-een" Special, with humor, embarrassment, costumes, and a cheesy one-kiss romance. Basically, Kurosaki Ichigo is given a break from his training with the Vizards and is out for a walk. Poor Ichigo, minding his own business, runs into none other than Shihounen Yoruichi, Nekohime of Soul Society, and her one-time apprentice and bodyguard, Soifon, 2nd Division Captain of the Gotei 13. Yoruichi, apparently, declared to take Soifon to the Living World for a holiday, seeing as how the young woman has never taken a break in her life, and chose Ichigo as their guide. What horrors (or humors) await the Shinigami Representative when the Shihounen princess discovers that Ichigo's school is having a costume party for Halloween? Rated T for language, innuendo, suggestive themes, and two nosebleeds.
Bleach: "Hollow-een" Special
Cat Costumes Galore: Nekohime Matchmaker
Kurosaki Ichigo, age 16, Sophomore High School Student and Shinigami Representative, could honestly care less if it was October 31st. Oh sure, Yuzu and Karin were looking forward to Trick'or'Treating with their father, all "incognito", so Isshin stated.
This year, Yuzu would be sporting a white chef's outfit, with a "Land of the Rising Sun" sticker attached to her arm, a tribute to her favorite T.V. show, "Iron Chef". If any Neanderthal dared come between Yuzu and her television show…well, let's just say that Zaraki Kenpachi, sans eye-patch and civility, was less scary.
Karin, contrarily, had opted for a more elaborate costume. A beautifully made plaster black wing was her signature piece; she was also set to wear a number of chains and belts over a black leather outfit, complete with trench coat. When asked, the dark-haired Kurosaki bluntly stated, "I make a better looking Sephiroth than those wig-wearing snobs." (A/N: No offense to Sephiroth cosplayers; just maintaining Karin's personality).
Kurosaki Isshin, to the horror of his family, had made the most outrageously annoying costume possible: wearing a breastplate of English medieval riding armor, a French beret, German lederhosen, a Spanish matador cape, wielding a Scottish bagpipe and using a scaled down Arc de Triomphe as a yolk (A/N: I think it's in Rome…I was trying to do a play-on joke on the U.N. …), the eldest Kurosaki was a riot of color, theme, and, ultimately, insanity. Ichigo prayed that he would be arrested before causing too much damage.
Ichigo himself had shied away from the holiday, only because he didn't want to be caught off guard, in case the Arrancar should attack again; translation, he was being a chicken-shit. So here he was, on a crisp Halloween morning, enjoying nothing more than the day-off from all things Stress, and just relaxing.
Little did he know, though he started off the day indifferent, he would become very irritated throughout the day. Very, very irritated.
Thus did our young Deputy Shinigami's peace come to an end when a bright, playful, painfully familiar voice sounded from ahead, "Oi, Ichigo!"
Looking up, said young man suffered a contortion of emotions. On any normal day, Ichigo would be surprisingly pleased to see his former teacher; on good days, he'd even smile. On this day, which Ichigo knew to be a day of great opportunity for someone such as Shihounen Yoruichi to take advantage of innocent young people such as himself, he felt wary.
For the former S.M.C. commander was a sadist, and everyone knew it. Her smile was even more disconcerting than Ichimaru Gin's, because, unlike Gin, Yoruichi didn't have any restraints. So when Kurosaki Ichigo saw said Nekohime approach him with that smile on her face, he felt his life flash before his eyes.
The dark-skinned goddess' companion was a direct, almost harsh, contrast to the former Soul Society noble. Skin pale as a blade, hair a dark ebony, the girl was almost reflective of a porcelain geisha doll. Almost. Her eyes, nearly dark as her own hair, were fierce and smoldering. A permanent scowl seemed to mar her features and, Ichigo surmised, she must look quite attractive during one of her more un-guarded moments. Her posture, too, was strict and rigid, like a coil ready to snap at a moment's notice, engaging any threat to her person or that of her former superior.
Recovering from the shock of just seeing them, Ichigo recognized, finally, that they were dressed casually, something that the orange-haired youth had never seen before of either woman. Yoruichi was dressed in tight-fitting blue jeans and wore an orange t-shirt beneath a black denim coat. Cliché of clichés, the older woman's shirt sported a "Hello Kitty" logo and graphic. The younger of the two was decked in khaki jeans, a long-sleeved white button-up undone at the neck. All in all, very convincing appearance of two average Japanese girls in a modern era; that is, if you consider purple hair, or braids that extend to the ankles of a girl whose body frame exceeded no more than five feet, normal.
"Yoruichi-san!" Ichigo recognized her instantly, before turning to the other woman. Her glare seemed to look through him, and the youth was surprisingly reminded of one other noble namely, Kuchiki Byakuya. "Ano…who are you, again?" he felt himself blush, silently kicking himself for not saying something more sophisticated, 'Smooth Ichigo, real smooth…'
Soifon, however, was surprised at the sheer formality in which the teen had addressed her. Having been raised in a lesser noble home, trained under the Shihounen princess, and then elected Captain of the 2nd Division had left her expecting respect from every which way she walked. Needless to say, she felt an impulse to reach out and deck the boy across the back of the head, but refrained from the temptation. In as an authoritative voice as possible, she droned, "Niibantai Taichou, Secret Mobile Corps Soutaichou, Soifon." Restraining a smirk, the dark-haired Shinigami felt pretty smug about her position. After all, she had earned it. So it nearly broke her resolve when the younger man responded, "Ano…that's a mouthful, ne Soifon-san?" He chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head. He'd been doing that a lot lately. He should really stop, lest he make a premature bald spot.
Before the young woman could retort, her Senpai intervened, "Yeah, I've been tryin' to get her to bust free from her shell, but she's pretty dedicated to her post. Worked hard to earn it, so she feels it's important, which it is, but, seriously, it's not everything."
Ichigo winced, sympathy for Soifon etched within his eyes. Of course, that was Yoruichi. What and Why weren't important; all that remained constant were When, Where, and How. Such was the way the Goddess of Flash trained all her personal subordinates; it was the only way to win and survive.
"Well, enough with the introductions. Ichigo, the reason we're here, actually, is because we are on a mission."
"Oh? And what mission is that, Yoruichi-san?" Dread coursed through him. Did he just yield the guillotine lever over to Death's gentle care?
Then, with all the deadly seriousness possible, the tanned goddess leaned into Ichigo's face, making the teen blush crimson, "To execute and record the results of Project: Get Ichigo Laid!"
Ichigo face-faulted onto the concrete, his mind wracked numb from shock, while Yoruichi grinned at the wonderful result of her mischievousness, and Soifon tried to stop swaying from the sheer lunacy of the situation. Did that imply what she thought that implied?
"Teme…" Ichigo cursed silently. He would get back at that person, one way or another.
"Ichigo, you're still just so fun to tease. Actually, we're here because I finally managed to sneak Soifon out of the office. She's been so pent up with paperwork and training, she's forgotton what its like to be human. So, I stole her away and here we are." She said, as if that solved the whole situation. Her grin had yet to fade.
"I can feel a 'but' coming along here, and don't you DARE make an anal joke." Ichigo growled, scowling at the woman, while trying to hide his blush. Yoruichi's prior comment still had him wobbling. Maybe it had to do with the fact that there was a witness. 'A pretty witness at that…damn you, Yoruichi, you're destroying my purity…'
"Well, actually, we need a guide. Since you seem to have free time, how about helping a couple of damsels in distress out?" At this she gave him the dreaded puppy-dog eyes, the bane of all impregnable men. Soifon failed miserably to contain a giggle, as she witnessed the legendary breaking of a man's resolve under those excessively innocent eyes.
Ichigo wavered, his scowl dissolving into a grimace as beads of sweat trickled from his brow. Damn those gorgeously adorable golden eyes. Then, to his horror, Soifon joined in, "Please, Ichigo-san?" 'Gah! Too cute…too…beautiful…can't…resist…resovle…faltering…' Amber and charcoal orbs glimmered as Ichigo closed his eyes and sighed sufferingly.
"Alright, alright…where do you want to go?" Kami have mercy on his soul.
"YATTA!" Yoruichi actually squealed in delight, clutching Ichigo's arm in a death grip and began marching towards the town, an exasperated, but highly amused Soifon following.
'Kami…you merciless bastard, you're enjoying this aren't you?'
Kurosaki Ichigo wasn't a man of faith. Hell, being a Shinigami, even a Representative, pretty much meant that he had been to Heaven and met God. However, his usual respect for the great Kami was now non-existant. Eight hours. Eight, grueling hours of the worst possible fate a teenaged man can endure with sanity still intact: shopping.
They'd been to every clothing, shoe, and jewelry store in Karakura-cho. They also hit the recently added Bath and Body Works (that was terrifying, being asked to sniff the girls necks and wrists every time they found a new scent they enjoyed, Ichigo was still blushing from the memory), Starbucks Coffee (note, Soifon was never allowed to consume coffee again, EVER), and, to his extreme horror, Victoria's Secret (it was the only place where Soifon was a nervous as he was, of course, Yoruichi enjoyed every moment of their discomfort). Ichigo's bank card was crying, he knew it was. His wallet had never been so thin, never. Ichigo didn't even know wallets could be this thin.
To his great pleasure, however, Ichigo discovered that Soifon was a very wonderful person to be around. She was polite, could laugh when the moments were right (she had a very nice laugh), but also seemed extremely reserved, speaking only when her two yen were needed. The orange-haired youth recalled bubbly Inoue Orihime, violent Arisawa Tatsuki, and childish Kuchiki Rukia; yeah, he definitely liked her quiet nature. What really caught his attention, though, was the way she held herself: she had pride, and plenty of it. Her chin was always lifted, defiant. Her dark grey eyes seemed to burn with a passionate fire. And, when she did smile, it was absolutely radiant. Of course, it didn't really matter to Ichigo like that. Nope, not at all.
However, his good mood was short lived as, while walking down the street, 20 bags in hand, he heard the one voice he didn't want to hear in public, "Iiichigoooo-ho-ho-ho-ho!!!" And Asano Keigo's face met with Ichigo's foot. As the brunette writhed on the floor, the women stopped to observe the comical womanizer interact with the once-again scowling teen. A little sad too, he was actually wearing a small smile that the Shihounen princess saw was aimed at her little bee. This would require greater observation, Yoruichi mused.
"Waah! Ichigo! You've been gone for so long, then you come around again, and you're still beating up on me, even though I'm crying tears of joy at seeing youu!" Keigo whined, comic tears streaming from his head, a read shoe-print creased into his face. Ichigo only grunted, "Baka, you're crying because I hit you. Why do you gotta be like this everyday?" At that point, the Shinigami Representative's classmate noticed the two women staring at them curiously. A glint caught in Keigo's brown eyes as he nudged his friend in the ribs, "Oh, Ichigo, you've been 'busy", ne, ne? What're their names? They. Are. Hooot!" the last part he growled out, like a purr, to insinuate the point.
Ichigo turned beet red at first, but then his scowl deepened as he forcefully butt his head into Keigo's nose, sending the brunette to the ground. Yoruichi and Soifon looked on in shock as the orange-haired man leaned down, bags still in hand, and whispered, deathly, threateningly, to his classmate, "Hands off, Keigo…unless you want to lose them, hentai…"
As he straightened, leaving a terrified Keigo on the ground, Ichigo saw the second part of the High School duo, Kojima Mizuiro, a dark haired, intelligent young man who was actually filthy rich despite his mediocre appearance Also, he was, unlike Keigo, a successful playboy, able to pick up almost any woman he targets, so long as they are older than himself. Despite his aloofness amongst his peers, Mizuiro actually got along pretty well with Ichigo, only because he didn't do anything to annoy him.
"Asano-san, you know you shouldn't act like that in public." No one knew it, but the Kojima money-boy took sadistic delight in treating Keigo with the extended formality, giving him a name that more or less likely was what other people called his father. Except, this time, Keigo looked far too scared to say anything, so the black haired youth looked up to the other male, "Maa, maa, Ichigo, just what'd you do?"
"Nothing permanent. So, what brings you out, Kojima? Oh, gomen, my bad. Kojima Mizuiro, Yoruichi and Soifon, Girls, this is Mizuiro, who's also in my class." The teen nodded to each girl respectively, whom each bowed slightly to the newcomer. Mizuiro, however, took this advantage to display his "skills". He took a sweeping bow and spoke in the softest voice a man could possibly speak, "Kojima Mizuiro, Age 16, and it's a pleasure to meet you ladies." 'Stage I complete, now kiss their hands, get the digits, and go.' This was routine for the playboy. It was a game, nothing more.
"Oi, gaki, enough with the shining teeth and the fluffy glitter-crap, I amnot into pedophilia."
Lord Kami, if Ichigo had his camera, he would possess the blackmail of all blackmails; the nefarious lady-killer Kojima Mizuiro shot down within seconds of an attempt to get a date. Of course, Ichigo had a feeling that Yoruichi would never have fallen for it anyway. For crying out loud, she grew up with Kuchiki Byakuya. If that man couldn't get a date with looks alone, then no man could.
All humor aside, the recovered High School teens asked the question that would drive Ichigo insane, "Are you going to the Halloween Costume Party tonight? It's in the Gym around 9 or so. I'm going as a zombie, and Mizuiro opted for a tuxedo al-a-Bond style."
Before their friend could even remotely reply (or refuse, as he was about to do), the evil Nekohime of Hell bound forward, "Halloween? Costume? Party! Oh, hell yeah, we are THERE! Come on, you two, it's time to get costumes!!" Grabbing each youth in one hand, the dark skinned goddess sped off for the costume store, Ichigo, still bag-laden, and Soifon protesting along the way.
Mizuiro and Keigo, watching nervously from a safe distance, only laughed. Tonight would be interesting.
Ichigo was angry. No, angry is too weak a word…livid? Irate? Furious? Maybe incensed was a better choice. Not only had he been drug into a situation he didn't originally himself plan, but he wasn't even able to maintain his own privacy.
Shihounen Yoruichi had stripped him to his boxers and fitted him through a dozen different costumes, all of which were very old or very irritating. His loud protests and shouts caused several people to leave, one of which, a certain perverted Mod Soul in a donated gigai, needed to use tissue to stop the hemorrhaging from his nose.
Soifon had it easier. She just picked out a costume, tried it on, asked Yoruichi's advice before being told it didn't work. She had only experimented with three costumes. The noise being caused in the men's fitting room was extremely distracting, and she had to fight constantly to keep from blushing.
For Soifon, this entire ordeal was more than a simple vacation, she knew. Her Senpai, Yoruichi-sama, was trying to get her to open up, to heal the old wounds of loss from the Flash Goddess' defection from her post. She also realized, with no small amount of evidence, that Yoruichi was up to something crooked.
Kurosaki Ichigo, however, was another story altogether. She had always thought of him as "that ryoka boy", and only recognized that he was, not only the youngest Shinigami in the history of Soul Society, but theonly ryoka in existence to achieve the ultimate Shinigami fighting technique--Bankai. It was a feat that not only made him amazing, but a mystery as well. Why would a human, with only 16 years of life experience, want to take up arms in a never ending war between the Shinigami and the Hollows?
As for his character, Soifon found that his gruff exterior gave him a rather double-edged appearance. It kept others away, but left him alone to face his challenges; this was, however, a bit of a turn-on. After all, what use did the Commander of the S.M.C. have for a soft man? The few times his guard was down, though, surprised the 2nd Division Captain. His laugh was clear and deep, like a perfect note on a bass reed whistle. His smile was warm and understanding. His brown eyes, which seemed to shift from amber to hazel depending on his current mood, seemed to always see things as they should be; that the things that were bad could be good, and the good things could be better.
Soifon realized, then and there, that when the time came, Kurosaki Ichigo would make a great Captain of the Gotei 13.
Yoruichi, the ever vigilant party-animal, was frustrated with the lack of good costumes when, like a Cero, it hit her: the PERFECT costume! Her malicious grin sent shivers through her two wards. 'What now?' was all they could think to ask.
Neither Kurosaki Ichigo nor Soifon could ever recall a more embarrassing moment in their lives. Sunshin Yoruichi, Nekohime of Soul Society, had lived up to her namesake, and chose only the most obvious costumes for the three of them to wear: cat suits. Not just any cat suits; skin tight, detail defining cat suits that required them to wear almost completely naked. To make is worse, their cat suits were colorized to match their hair colors, thus, Ichigo was orange, Soifon was black, and Yoruichi was purple.
The topping, and actually the coolest parts of the costumes, were custom made cat ears and tails, apparently supplied by one Urahara Kisuke. The ears and tails were retrofitted with small, metal tips that, when pressed to bare skin, would react in the proper manner according to the emotions they felt.
Ergo, we find our three Shinigami, in costume, waiting for the doors to open for the party. Their faces were lined with little whisker marks, the only make-up they needed, but everyone else was paying attention to one of two things:
First, the tails and the ears. Poor Ichigo, irritated as he was, was suffering the most scrutiny as his emo-tail swished back and forth at high speed, his orange ears pressed against his skull. Anyone not looking at his face still knew not to piss him off. Soifon was, frankly, mortified. Her cheeks were flushed, and her dark cat ears were folded in humiliation. Her ebon tail was wrapped around her leg tightly, curled as if protecting herself. Yoruichi was as happy as could be, smiling for all the world to see. Her purple tail swung lazily and her violet ears were perked. Easily, they were the best dressed.
Second, and the most horrifyingly embarrassing thing possible, everyone was looking hungrily at them. Lewdly. The men all hated Ichigo for having the two hottest women they'd ever seen hanging on his arms, and looking like he didn't want to be there. The lucky bastard. The women all wished to be in Soifon and Yoruichi's places, in the hopes of feeling up the leotard wearing hunk. Lucky bitches.
Ichigo sighed heavily, and found himself hating Kami and Halloween.
Ichigo wasn't happy, but he wasn't angry either. Just confused.
The party had started normally enough; punch and buffet table, techno music blaring, hormone-pumped teens dancing. The Shinigami Representative learned that all his comrades had, in fact, taken time off to enjoy the party.
Orihime and Tatsuki had dressed up in a dual pair costume, as Pirate-clad Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner (Ichigo learned though, that Orihime had begged Tatsuki into it, claiming it would be fun). Ichigo's cheeks still burned red when he recalled how Tatsuki had broken out into a fit of laughter at the sight of him, and Orihime just had to say he looked "kawaii". Kami, the embarrassment.
Keigo and Mizuiro (as their zombie/ James Bond selves) showed up long enough to poke fun at Ichigo before running away in fear of being maimed). Yasutora "Chad" Sado and Ishida Uryuu had, in Ichigo's opinion, the least imaginative outfits. Chad had dressed up as Rocky Balboa, complete with boxing gloves and American shorts (Kami that had been awkward), and Ishida had dressed up as, surprise surprise, Robin Hood (Ichigo pointed out that it was lame, but was shot down when the Quincy remarked that Ichigo's cat suit was "kawaii").
Ichigo had somehow or another wound up in the middle of the dance floor, alone, and morose. He was tired, and he felt a little out of place in this environment. It was overwhelming. The sheer number of people was outrageous; were there even this many people at his school?
A great deal of pushing occurred as dancers bumped into one another, and the orange-haired teen felt a small weight press into his chest. He reflexively reached out and found, to his surprise, Soifon wrapped in his arms.
"Soifon! You okay?" Dumbest. Question. Possible. The young woman looked worse for wear, fearful and confused as she looked up into the eyes her rescuer. Hell, she could've had a Hollow chase after her for all he knew.
She didn't know why, and she frankly didn't care. She folded into the broad, sturdy chest of the Shinigami Representative and simply stood there. This place was a nightmare! There were too many people and too many noises. She was suffering a massive overload of information, and she just couldn't take it. What was worse, Yoruichi-sama had disappeared. So, when she realized that the one now holding her was someone she trusted, she just let go of her resolve and stood there, shivering.
The young man could feel the girls tremors through his costume, her face practically nuzzled into his chest. So he did the only rational thing a man in his place could do: he swayed, holding the girl close, stroking her hair in assurance. The music descended to a slow waltz, and couples made their way to the floor.
Ichigo didn't move except for the ever gentle swaying, somehow in time with the slow beat. He felt the girl in his arms relax and move with him, savoring the protection she never before felt in her life. It was…nice. Warm. Tingly. As realization dawned on Soifon, her heart fluttered and her stomach twisted as she realized her position. This boy…no, this man…whom she had never before had any association, was her shelter in this strange world. It confused her.
As the music stopped, Ichigo looked about and went rigid. The whole of the school had moved away from the two, leaving a small circle around the now-spotlight couple. Ears went flat and his tail bristled as he understood; they had been set up. He could just hear the deep laugh of the black cat responsible for this.
It wasn't that he was angry about the situation; rather, he was happy to realize that the woman in his arms trusted him so. No, it was because they had been manipulated into this embarrassing scene.
Soifon looked about, and her insecurity returned in an instant. She turned to Ichigo, looking at the concern in his eyes. It was too much. She pulled away, reluctantly, and moved away from the immobile young man. No one stopped her.
For about a minute, no one spoke. Then the DJ restarted the music, and everything resumed their normal activities, but the tension in the air was still palpable enough to taste. Ichigo did not follow the girl who left. He stood there, impassive, his dark eyes wondering and sad. He turned and left the dance floor. His friends knew not to bother him, but that didn't stop them from worrying. One person, however, followed the Shinigami Representative, disappearing into the crowd.
Soifon was miserable. She felt alone, hurt, confused, happy, angry, and sad and she didn't even know why. What had caused her to leave like that? What was it with that man that set her off and broke through her guard? For more than a century, she had been trained in the art of bodyguard and assassination. She was a living weapon; a tool. She wasn't supposed to suffer emotions.
Yet here she was, on the verge of tears, all because she didn't understand anything about this world—least of all the orange-haired Shinigami Representative that so affected her.
Her body shivered, the cold air biting against her skin in the thin fabric of her costume. Stupid Halloween…she should never have come here…
Ichigo made his way to the roof, where he found the young woman sitting out in the cold. How he knew where she would be was no mystery; the roof was the farthest place from the gym.
Whatever was guiding his actions, he knew he had no power to do otherwise. He approached the black-haired girl and sat beside her, drawing her into an embrace. Startled, she looked up to see the amber orbs of said Shinigami teen, alive with a fire she had only ever before seen once: when Yoruichi had told her that they were, in essence, sisters.
That brought a smile to his face. It would be the first time she called his name without formality. Formality, as far as Ichigo was concerned, was meaningless between friends.
"Soifon…back there…I…" He chuckled, finding his own embarrassment amusing in this situation, "Kuso…what's a guy gotta do to make a girl smile, ne?" And, to his success, she did smile, just a small one.
The young woman, heart hammering in her chest, looked up and asked the question she'd meant to ask ever since she met him, "How do you do it? How do you take up the mantle of a Shinigami, and still find a way to live the life of a normal human?" There, she said it.
Surprisingly, he had an answer ready for her, "Because my mother was killed by a Hollow."
One sentence. One meaning. One revelation.
Soifon was shocked, to say the least, but the young man continued, "I couldn't do anything to help her. In a lot of ways, I felt responsible. But becoming a Shinigami…it's given me the power to change things. To protect the people important to me…and anyway else who may suffer because of the sins of our enemies…" He stared into her eyes, his conviction deep and powerful, "I will protect the people I care about with my life. I will die for them, so they won't have to suffer…my family…my friends…and you too, Soifon…"
That did it. She could no longer hold the tears behind her mask. She cried. She cried for her past, for her sins, for her pain…but, mostly, she cried for him. His resolve was built on the pain of loss…much like her own, but far, far more powerful. He was strong. Stronger than she could ever hope to be. And so she cried. His mother was lost to a Hollow. His family had struggled to restore the balance they had before. And he carried the weight of the most powerful Shinigami in history…all for them.
Ichigo wiped away the tears from her cheeks, brushing her lips with his thumb. This was the woman who was Soifon…strong, beautiful, and kind. Lifting her chin, he pressed his lips against hers in a chaste, small kiss. The tang of coppery blood mixed with the sweet taste of vanilla and cinnamon. It was addicting. As they parted, their eyes met, and they shared a smile.
On the roof across from the gym, a very happy cat grinned as she finished taking pictures of the happy couple with Ichigo's powerful digital camera. Now to frame it, mass produce it, and plan for the future dates to come.
At the Urahara Shoten, Kisuke opened a small envelope waiting for him on the sitting room table. He opened it up, and a stream of blood poured from his nose. It was a picture of Yoruichi in her costume, stretching out in full feline style. (A/N: I told you there would be two nosebleeds)
Well that's it. I managed to get it done today, but believe me, it was hard.
Please R&R and read my Kavalier fic. I need reviews to motivate me.