Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach; genius Kubo Tite does.

A/N: In more ways than one, this is highly unoriginal and may appear to be a parody, chiefly because it's bound to have lots of parallelisms with the new novel sensation the Twilight Saga by Stephenie Meyer which, strictly for me, is stuffed with all the varieties of the mind-numbing cliché a deluded teenager can ever invent in years of yearning to be a goddamn fictional character. I'm sorry if you have found the saga engrossing in whatever degree at any point, but with the disappointment and revulsion it has occasioned me in so far as I can tell from the point I've reached in its pages I reckon I'd have gained more if I opted to read traffic signs instead. I'm not bashing. If anything, I'm just writing. Also, there's no absolute guarantee of this story getting finished. Also, I'm liable to commit grammatical errors so you might as well expect them all over the place. Lastly, this is cheesy and is probably not worth your time.

Full Summary: This is the story of Kurosaki Ichigo, a boy who's never known serious adversary, true opposition, and any form of travesty worth putting on paper. He's never been in love either. In the turmoil of his utterly monotonous existence, a boy whose name is Ulquiorra Scheiffer calls for a total makeover for the mechanical repetition of events Ichigo likes to call his life. Just then, someone else makes an entrance; someone more formidable. His name: Grimmjow Jaggerjack. It also doesn't help his plight when he learns that Ulquiorra is in fact a blood-sucking hound of hell. Things further go downhill when he discovers that Grimmjow is also of the same breed. But most damning of all is the seemingly accurate suspicion that both magnificent creatures appear to be… falling in love with him.

Chapter I: The Aizen Siblings

My name is Kurosaki Ichigo. I'm completely functional and I have all the merits attributable to a regular teenage boy. Moving to a new town, and afterwards trying to fit in to a whole new world, however, is inexorable in the pages of the lives of kids like me. Even more generic is the probability of me meeting someone who'll turn my world upside down. And even more so predictable is this; I'm not set up to meet just one, but two life-menacing threats in my journey through the teenage world.

Nah. Let's put it more casual and applicable to my mouth: I've just about met some world-class, but nevertheless the worst headache-inducing, dudes of the twenty-first century. Welcome to my life. To allocate things in due order, I'm gonna hand to you the accounts in chronology.

To start off, I've just moved in with my dysfunctional family to a verging-on-backwater town somewhere in H—. The place is neat; yeah, I have to give it that, at least. But it's freezing like the Earth has just been thrown to the other end of the galaxy where no sun shines whatsoeffingever. Well, I've long ago resigned with the promise that I'd tone down my gripes to reasonable count so, maybe, I'll just stop right here with my insignificant ramblings. After all, privileged teens have no right to complain about anything after having the grandest of things.

On second thoughts, reasonable count, upon closer analysis, amounts to more or less thirty qualms in a minute on the premise that you live with your dad. Your dad being Ishiin Kurosaki. Even after you've just recently cut ties with your old pals by bouncing out of town, and getting all your things hauled off while tears dampened your lids, someone has to act retarded. Not to give you the wrong impression or anything but, although I love my dad and my sisters since they're the vestige of a complete family in the untimely permanent departure of my mom, we're just nothing you'd be inclined to call normal. My dad is a skilled doctor, and conjugal with that fact is the implication that diplomacy is very much expected of him. He's fine, alright, if only he's not into the habit of instantly transforming into a full-blown prank-pulling son of a gun when no decent people are in sight. Worse still, his pranking tendencies are exclusively persecuted on me; me, who happens to be his one and only son. He might have been asking for a younger brother all these years. No real complaints there.

In the most unfortunate twist of fate, it comes to pass that I have to start all over again with the basic introductions about myself to practically anyone who maywish to strike up a chat with me in my new school. Man, being a new kid in town ain't a walk in the park. On the contrary, being such is comparable to an idiot sentenced to years of verbal redundancy. So now I'm going about like, "I'm Kurosaki Ichigo. I've just moved into town. Nice to meet you.", dumping only the bare necessities.

I may have sounded so much like a prerecorded audiotape, but what surprises me is that the majority of the kids are bestowing my introduction with attentiveness far exceeding what's appropriate. Oddly enough, I'm currently being treated like royalty. So, against my better judgment, I mingle witlessly with just about anyone who so much as nods at me. You may call me a cut-throat cynic at your leisure any time now. Yet, somehow, I'm guessing that's something that's about to change, definitely.

"So, how do you like your new school?" a redhead loudmouth, who seconds ago introduced himself as Renji Abarai, asks me. We're in the same class.

"Nothing really worth my awe but nothing below my comfort either."

He grunts. "I take it you mean 'okay'".

"That's a word for it. In any case, can you give me some brief particulars about how things go around here?"

We're in the cafeteria, lunching along with a handful of classmates. By this time it would be a shame to have forgotten all their names. Ironically, I can only recall two; I hope this doesn't make me land well in the 'imbecile' category.

Renji assumes a face of some authoritative quality before doling out,

"Let me reintroduce every head on this table: The one at the farthest end of the bench is Ishida Uuryu the Geek; next to him is Sado Yasutora the Gentle Giant; beside him is Inoue Orihime, Miss Perfect; sitting at her side is Kuchiki Rukia, my childhood friend, hence my best pal here; across her is Toushiro Hitsugaya, and yes he's just stepped on his teen years first time around; beside him is rich boy Kira Izuru; and the last one is Yamada Hanatarou. Remember your fellow freshmen's names well."

The one immovable thing standing between me and full memorization of their names is my deficiency in the memory department. Whatever. I nod while making my actions look like they mean something other than the true one; disinterest. Gosh, my attention starts to pass out cold even though I'm in the presence of two really pretty girls, but I let my gaze get honed by the environment I need to familiarize myself with. This place is crawling with good-looking chicks, a feat which is altogether contrary to the town's dreary atmosphere and poor population count. Someone should really pity me at this point; why, I'm observing everything that comes to my vision as if estimating for some profitable cause. The closest thing this activity can conceivably get to being productive is my ending up having the mind to choose a career afterwards; future career equals image consultant. Dammit, pretty girls are practically everywhere I turn my fucking head.

"Who is she?" It doesn't register fast enough for me that I have spoken. What's worse is that the absent-minded curiosity in my voice hasn't partaken in moderation.

"Oh, her?" Renji asks back when it's as obvious as the effing sun's existence whom I have referred. Really, no one else within a mile of radial vicinity is sending signals like a leer jet save the girl. "She's Rangiku Matsumoto. Lovely thing, isn't she? She's in the senior batch, and, to be blunt, she's way out of your league. In other words, forget it."

I scowl. Well, it seems to have passed on as a joke because now everyone is chuckling on his meal.

"I'll keep that in mind."

My eyes travel to where Rangiku Matsumoto is. The space around her radiates unnaturally, or so I think, or she makes it do so. Indeed, her presence itself has all the qualities of a dream and…I should stop. I've only been under the roof of this alma mater for half a day but already my head is being bolstered by unmanageable thoughts. Obviously, my attempts to recover isn't much of a success, as my life never have been, now that I continue to be entranced by her—

"If she interests you maybe I should give you a tour of the lovely dolls in here, the school's very treasure." Renji offers.

"No, thanks—"

"—See that girl with Matsumoto-sempai? That's her best friend, Nanao Ise, and she herself isn't half bad. They go around like twins, completely inseparable although they're like two poles of one force: one's a total snob while the other is party girl—"

"—I can tell that much from here. Thank you very much, Renji—"

"—the silver-haired, six-footer one with them is Kotetsu Isane. She's the women's basketball team captain. She's a goddess—"

"—Agreed. But—"

"—let's shift to the sophomores. Turn your head the other way. Yeah, that's it. That's Kurotsuchi Nemu. Quite a body, huh? She doesn't talk much; her friend, that cute girl with her, Kiyone Kotetsu, does all the talking for her—"

"Jesus Christ, Renji, give your chick-hunting a rest already." Someone strikes a false note by saying aloud what's needed to be said, badly. It's the Hitsugaya kid.

"I'm merely giving him an initiation." Renji answers coolly. Hitsugaya merely shrugs at the other's offer of clarity.

And then I see them.

All the time I've been sitting here an almost eerie weight has been tugging on my attention. It's only now that I subconsciously decide to give it its due; my notice. There, on the far corner of the hall, is a group of young adults who all stand quite apart from the entire crowd. It's easy to tell it's not their beauty, a thing so seemingly common in this school, nor their almost magisterial behavior that cuts them loose from the rest. To some extents, these qualities are possibly ancillary to their strangeness, though completely separate. There's something else. On the other hand, their silence has very little to do with it either; it's scarcely even that. So I consume a criminal time to let my wits descend on me. A little bit of gaping won't help, and too much of it will invariably render me an—

"Don't even think about it."

"What?" I ask Renji.

"In life, you often meet people who just wouldn't move in the same circle with you, people like Rangiku-san and Nemu-san. If you're lucky, you get to be in the same room with a precious few who exist in a different realm altogether. You're looking at the Aizen children. It would be wise to count them among the precious few."

I wonder what's fueling Renji's reverential passion for snooping around his fellow students' statuses.

"I'm just looking around." I say, clinging to the shred of what I think is right; denial.

"Good." He tells me.

"Who are they?"

"I've just told you; they're the Aizen kids."

"That's all?"

He sighs. "Part of the thick line that segregates us commoners from them is that they exist solely to make up the school's population—or their god created them. You shouldn't bother with them; they're completely ignorable—"

"—here, Renji." the Kuchiki girl intercepts. She continues and turns to me, "They're okay; a pleasant lot, if you ask me. Only this: they don't interact with anyone else—considering all from a normal vantage point, at least not in an intimate level. They're siblings, legally speaking; they are the adopted children of a brilliant local doctor, Aizen Sousuke, and his wife. The only girl in the group is Neliel. I believe she's the eldest child, a senior. The one with pink hair is Szayel. He's the youngest and is in our batch. The tall one with narrow eyes is Stark, also a senior, who comes next to Neliel in terms of age. The last one, the boy with green eyes, is Ulquiorra, a sophomore, the middle child. They're missing one; Grimmjow, also a sophomore. He's been absent for more than a week now, which just further authenticates the rumors that he got into some serious accident. There you have it; five physically perfect beings outside the pages of a magazine."

I quickly discharge myself from the commotion my curiosity has stirred. Having reached a degree at which nothing more can be asked, I busy myself with the remainder of my meal.

My introductory acquaintance with the Aizen siblings doesn't suggest anything is likely to make our paths cross. On that respect, I suppose this whole new environment is taking in a simple and gentle pace after all.

Not.

Why is he staring at me? I don't know why I'm so certain of it, but, hell, if he could just disengage his goddamn huge eyes from me I'd very much be thankful.

"Is it just me or Ulquiorra Scheiffer is watching you?" Uuryu Ishida barrels out the very subject of my thoughts.

I've been making it more difficult for me before it's finally too late to realize that staring back isn't a crime. I swivel my head to the Ulquiorra dude's direction. He has returned his gaze to his companions. I do the same, though not completely; I'm snatching glimpses of him from the corners of my eyes, and with labor at that too.

He is doing the same. He's watching my every move.

And then he smiles a faint smile.

TBC