A Bleach Fanfic
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach.
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki is school royalty. Rukia Kuchiki is invisible to the naked eye. But there's more to high school romance than just sitting at different lunch tables. And they find that out the hard way. Ichigo x Rukia AU.
Author's Note: Hi guys! And yes, it is I, yours truly, back with a new fanfic. I know I wrote in my profile page that I'm currently working on a Code Geass fic, but I recently changed my mind and decided to do a Bleach story. :) I'm more familiar with the characters in this anime/manga anyway, so possibility of OOC-ness is slim. (I think?) :) So yeah. Uhm, enjoy. :D
Another Note: ARGH. Comedy/Romance fic. Kill me if this turns out horribly.
Another Note: Everything italicized is Rukia's thought.
`Cause she's bittersweet,
She knocks me off of my feet,
And I can't help myself,
I don't want anyone else.
She's a mystery,
She's too much for me,
But I keep comin' back for more.
She's just the girl I'm lookin' for.
- Just The Girl, The Click Five
"Girl, get over it."
"No, I'm so not over it." Sigh.
"Trust me. You're wasting your time."
"I mean, look at him! He's… He's so—"
"Godly? Beautiful? Sexy? Yes, don't we all know that."
"Well, here's something you don't know. Last year, I accidentally bumped into him at third period, and he actually talked to me!"
"Really, now. What'd he say?"
"'Watch the suit, I just got it dry-cleaned.' Isn't he so, like, smooth?"
Rukia Kuchiki rolled her eyes like it was second nature to her. She honestly thought the very gesture was immature, but she just couldn't help it every time she would overhear (Yes, overhear, because eavesdropping is so beneath her) people, particularly women, bickering like sugar-overdosed valley girls whenever a certain guy would walk past them in the crowded hallways.
She just wished they would talk so goddamn loud—
"Will you shut up about him already? Geez, he doesn't even know you."
"I don't care! He actually looked at me with his actual eyes!"
Kami, please help me.
Nope, there was no doubt about it. Apparently, his self-righteousness, his orange majesty, his highness (literally), self-proclaimed prince of Karakura high school, Kurosaki Ichigo, decided to bestow upon the common people of the East Wing his omnipotent presence.
And yes, now is the best time to cue the drooling.
"Whoa, settle down ladies," she heard him say. "There's plenty of me to go around, okay?"
But no, not for Rukia.
She groaned. Not that anyone could hear it over the fan-girly noises.
With her first and second period books in her arms, she slammed her locker door with too much force than necessary just to block out the muffled squeals and behind-the-hand-giggles around her. Without as much as a glance at Kurosaki's head peeking out from the sea of women, she went about her merry way towards her classroom on the second floor.
Yes, today was going to be the best first day of school. Ever.
Boy Meets Girl?
Karakura Private High School
Student Information and Schedule
Name: Kuchiki, Rukia
Student Number: 126-6347
Status: Old student
Gender: Female (Hello?)
Homeroom Adviser: Urahara, Kisuke
08:00am-08:30am – Homeroom – Rm. KHS142
08:30am-09:30am – Creative Writing – Rm. ENGL128
09:30am-10:30am – Information Technology – Rm. COMP237
10:30am-11:30am – Asian Literature - Rm. LITE241
11:30am-12:30pm – LUNCH (Hurrah.)
12:30pm-01:30pm – Differential Calculus – Rm. MATH125 (Why am I taking this class again?)
01:30pm-02:30pm – General Biology – Rm. BIOL023
02:30pm-03:30pm – Inorganic Chemistry – Rm. CHEM152
03:30pm-04:30pm – Specialization Class*
* You, Kuchiki, Rukia, have chosen Visual Arts for this school year. Your professor will be Love Aikawa. Please refer to your class adviser for your schedule.
We expect the best from you!
Go Karakura Lions!
"I don't believe this."
Rukia let her purple orbs scan the vicinity of the jam-packed classroom before she took a seat next to Tatsuki Arisawa, all-around tomboy, point guard of the school's varsity basketball team for women, a black-belt holder in karate, and the one and only person in this school whom she considers a "real" friend.
"Huh?" she asked.
"I mean, we're, like, actually seniors," she told the petite woman enthusiastically. She then coolly shrugged off the approved gray school blazer. "Seniors, Rukia! Do you know what that means?"
The other woman blinked. "It means… we're finally graduating from this hellhole?"
"Well, duh. But, no!" Tatsuki jumped up to her desk for emphasis. "We are finally seniors! After spending most of our days in school as underclassmen, we are finally the ones who are going to hog the spotlight! Cutting lines in the cafeteria will be so utterly effortless! Think of the advantages! The possibilities are endless!"
Rukia raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you a bit… overreacting?" she asked dubiously, shaking her head.
"No, I'm not overreacting, you bitch," Tatsuki snapped albeit in a friendly manner. "You, my friend, are simply underestimating it—"
"Whatever." I think she had too much of Orihime's cooking again.
Like she always did when Tatsuki wouldn't take a hint and shut up, Rukia took out her iPod, wedged the earphones into her ear, and cranked up the volume, effectively blocking out all sound. Something from Story of the Year was ringing in her head nonstop.
Not that she didn't like Tatsuki Arisawa – to be honest, she loved the girl to death (in a sisterly way of course, because, well, there were rumors going about back when they were in eighth grade that Tatsuki was a lesbian and, well, yeah. You get the picture). They've been together since second grade, since the time Tatsuki punched Rukia's nose for accidentally breaking one of her crayons.
And that was also the time they discovered Tatsuki's gift in martial arts. So every time her friend gets an award or a medal or something, she silently congratulates herself, because if it weren't for her, well, Tatsuki wouldn't be her ass-kicking self right now.
Ha, I'm so good, Rukia thought.
"Hello, Chad," she greeted without looking up. The lack of light was enough for her to guess who was taking the empty seat next to her, because he's just so tall and all. She then removed her earphones. "How was your summer?"
Yasutora Chad, liked by many, feared by all. Think Fuzzy Wuzzy (minus the fuzz, of course). He looks like a typical jock except he wasn't in the football team, because the coach thought he was just way too big, which is true. He transferred from Mexico to Karakura halfway through their ninth grade, so yeah, he was a big Hispanic guy with a Japanese family name. (We're a pretty weird bunch.)
"Oh, my God, you were listening to you iPod the whole time?!" Tatsuki yelped at a grinning Rukia. "I've been blabbering for the past how-many-minutes here and you weren't even listening? What kind of friend are you—?!"
"It was… fun," Chad droned in his deep, booming voice.
"So, yeah, like what I was saying—"
Without warning, a spitball from nowhere zoomed right past her face, missing it by mere centimeters. And it hit the hyperactive martial arts expert right in the middle of her nose. The sticky, clumped-up, salivated piece of paper slowly detached itself from its victim's skin, and everyone in the room knew that hell would break lose the moment it hit the floor.
Rukia's hand instinctively went to slap her forehead, knowing what was to come. She also knew it wasn't going to be pretty. And it was just only homeroom period. At the first day of classes.
Two and a half ours later, Rukia ended up in her third period, which was, according to her trusty schedule, Asian Literature. Apparently, neither Chad nor Tatsuki was in this class with her, and she didn't really know if that was a good thing or not, considering that her best friend (Why am I friends with her again?) instigated the very first bloodshed this school year, which ended up with Chad having to interfere, otherwise Tatsuki would've sent Keigo Asano flying to the next continent.
Poor guy. Rukia, being the kind, invisible girl she was, volunteered to take him to the school clinic just to have an excuse not to confront Tatsuki in her frenzied state. Anything but that. Now, Keigo was sitting two rows behind her, clutching a dripping ice bag to his bandage nose.
And, of course, Tatsuki got sent to the Principal's Office yet again—
"Hey, Rukia," a voice came from her left, snapping her out of her torpor.
She turned a little to look at the bright and ever-so-cheerful face of Orihime Inoue, the very big-chested — er, big-hearted girl who always seemed nice whatever the weather was. Rukia eyed her long, red hair which she secretly envied.
"Oh, hey, Orihime," she greeted politely. Maybe I should dye my hair with that color… "What's up?"
"I just wanted to say hi," she said as she took a bite from a whole loaf of… bread? "I brought an extra bento with be today `cause I made too much this morning. Would you like to have it?"
Orihime's cooking? No way. She'd seen what it could do. Tatsuki and her always dysfunctional stomach was enough proof.
"Uhm, I... uh, brought lunch with me today, sorry," she apologized lamely. But the innocent girl seemed to buy it. She leaned in closer to whisper. "You know, I've heard that Mizuiro over there dropped his wallet somewhere, so he doesn't really know where to get food for the day. Why don't you… give that spare bento of yours to him instead?"
The red-head clamped her hands together, making her boobs bob a little. "That's a great idea, Rukia!"
"So, how are you ladies doing, huh?" a male voice came out of nowhere. Rukia guessed that the owner was also the one who coolly put his arm around her shoulders.
"Hello, Renji," Orihime said with a smile before she busied herself with her… bread.
Rukia groaned. "Do you know that your arm is heavy?" she snapped.
"Aw, c'mon, Rookie, you're breaking my heart, here," Renji Abarai teased, his voice smooth and alluring. He still hadn't gotten rid of his gay hairdo. Long, pink, and ponytail-ed. "So, how about that date you promised me last year, huh?"
"What date?" The petite woman raised her eyebrows and racked her brains for any memory at all that concerned her going out with a pig-headed loser such as Renji. "And stop calling me 'Rookie.'"
"Oh, don't act like you forget," he reminded her, his lips dangerously close to her cheek. "You said you'd let me take you out this year if I stopped bugging you last year, remember?"
Rukia was silently praying the gods to give her at least a third of Tatsuki's skills and strength in self-defense. She needed it. "Well, then, you're gonna have to wait for next year. And the year after that. And the year after that…"
"What?" Renji yelped. "You're kidding, right—?"
"Okay, class, everyone settle down."
Rukia sighed with relief when Renji finally gave up and trudged back to his seat, just as all the room's occupants returned to sulk at their respective desks.
All heads turned to look at the woman who had just walked (cat-walked) through the classroom's entrance. By the looks of it, she was their Asian Lit professor. She looked to be the part anyway.
Every male's jaw dropped. A couple of students wolf whistled.
Though not exactly tall, the woman was beautiful – with silky black braids that framed her gentle features, pale and smooth-to-touch skin, the most stunning purple eyes, and a body to die for. Rukia even wondered why she can't look as show-stopping as her even though she looked exactly like her—
Oh, my God. Is she, like, my long-lost sister or something?
"Good morning, class," she greeted them, her tone as dainty as her frame. "I am—" She took a piece of chalk and wrote her name on the board twice. One in English, and the other in Kanji characters. "—Retsu Unohana, your Asian Literature professor. I've been teaching for eight years now, and I graduated from Tokyo University with master's degree in Literature, major in Asian Literature—"
Keigo Asano's hand quickly shot up.
"My, my, questions already?" She smiled and motioned for Keigo to speak.
He removed the icepack from his face to reveal the bandages. A few students snickered. "Yeah, uhm, how old are you, anyway?"
From the corner of her eye, Rukia could make out Uryu Ishida shaking his head in exasperation. There was a curious but quiet mumble from the class that obviously came from the male population.
"—I'd bet you she just turned twenty-seven—"
"Nah. She looks more of twenty-three to me—"
"Well, I don't give a damn. She's so f—!"
So immature. Rukia couldn't help but scoff.
To everyone's surprise, the smile on Ms. Unohana's face didn't falter at all. "Well, sorry to disappoint you guys, but I'm honestly old enough to be your mother."
Ha! Take that, chums.
Orihime giggled. "She's so pretty…"
A few boys made a sound that Rukia would translate from boy-talk as: 'I don't friggin' care, `cause, well, you are just way too hot to waste!'
"O…kay, so, here's your seat plan," she said as she raised the piece of paper and handed it to the student nearest her. "Right legibly, family name first, then your given name. Now take out your textbooks and turn to page forty-four. It's best not to waste time!"
A wave of groans reverberated across the room as the sound of flipping pages filled the air. Following suit, Rukia took out her own copy of Tales of the East and opened it at the said page.
"Today, we will be discussing a very popular heroine, one of my personal historical-slash-fictional favorites, Hua Mulan," she began in a loud and clear voice. "Now, tell me—"
Ms. Unohana was cut short when the classroom door unexpectedly swung open to reveal a tall, carrot-top figure with a demeanor that would've melted the Artic or frozen up the Sahara. And, inevitably, in was the girls' turn to swoon this time.
(With the exception of Rukia, of course. And Orihime, because the girl was just always too innocent and distracted to notice.)
"Uhm, good morning. Sorry, I ran a little late, ma'm."
The girls giggled and blushed for some reason that Rukia and other more intelligent members of the female specie were oblivious to.
Still smiling, Ms. Unohana nodded briefly before motioning for the Ichigo Kurosaki to choose a vacant seat among the class. As he smoothly made his way down the middle aisle, he gave one of his fan girls a wink. He then took his seat, which was coincidentally in front of Rukia's.
No! Not there! I can't see the damn chalkboard! she mentally yelped as she craned her neck to look over Ichigo's shoulder.
"So, as I was saying. What does anybody here know about Hua Mulan?"
Renji proudly raised his hand. No doubt it was one of his tactics to impress the new (and very hot) professor. "She's the chick who pretended she was a guy to join the army, right?"
"That's very well-said, Mr.… Abarai," she said after looking at the newly-returned seat plan. "I can see you're an avid Disney fan, but their animated adaptation was very inaccurate and loose. Though you answer is indeed correct."
There were chuckles from the guys again. Renji looked put-out.
"Hey," she whispered to Ichigo, tapping his back with her, er, Chappy the Rabbit pen. "Can you slouch a little?"
The orange-haired, self-proclaimed teen prince turned around slightly to look at her. "Why?" he asked her.
"`Cause I can't see the board," she supplied for him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Ichigo sneered. "That's not my fault. Why don't you just get taller or something?"
Rukia felt like she was washed away by a giant tsunami.
No one, and by that she meant no one made fun of her height (or the lack of it) in front of her and gets away with it.
"Well, that isn't my fault, too, so why don't you just chop of your head so I can see the damn board?" Ha! Chalk one up for me!
"No can do, little miss shortcake," he shot back, reclining on his seat. "I don't think my ladies would appreciate that move. And I don't think you'd wanna be chased down by an angry mob now, wouldn't you?"
What? Oh, wow. "Heh, I'd personally rip off your face and put it up for auction on eBay."
"See? You just said that my face is worth a fortune—"
"What? I didn't say anything like that, you egotistical freak!"
"Oh, just admit that you're one of those women who'd want to get on a guy's good side from the bad side."
Did he just say that she was hitting on him?
"You'd be a complete and total idiot if you think that I'm interested in someone like you."
He jeered again. It gets more and more annoying each time he did that. "Sure looks like it, Shortcake," he said, grinning back at her.
"You are the most obnoxious man I've ever met—"
"Kurosaki and Kuchiki. Do you want to share something to the class?"
Ms. Unohana's voice brought Rukia back to reality. It was then that she realized she had been almost yelling at Ichigo's provoking comments. She had completely forgotten she was in a four-walled classroom with a professor raising an eyebrow at her.
"No, m'am," Ichigo immediately replied, feinting simplicity. "Little Miss Shortcake here was just asking me for a pen."
The female professor looked dubious. "Can you repeat what I'd just said about Hua Mulan, Mr. Kurosaki?" she asked the carrot-top, her voice dangerous.
"Uhm… No, ma'm. I, uh, can't," Ichigo weakly.
She focused her equally purple eyes to Rukia. "How about you, Miss Kuchiki?"
Damn it. She was screwed.
Rukia sighed in defeat. There was no use in faking it. "No, m'am, I can't." Great.
"I see," Ms. Unohana said, her expression was actually scaring her. "Well, since both of you seem to get along quite well and seem uneager to participate in this class, why don't you just write a five-hundred word, handwritten essay about this famed heroine."
A breath escaped Rukia's lips. That was a close one. From the sound of it, it almost looked like she was doing to give them both—
Author's Note: So… What did you guys think? Was it amusing enough to be a comedy fic? Or was it as lame as I predicted? LOL. R&R and let me know what you think. :)
Another Note: Why Karakura Lions? Isn't Kon, like, Bleach's mascot or something? He's a lion, right? LMAO.