Screams of "Kawaii!" echoed down the hallway, and Tatsuki smiled her best I'm-always-here-for-you smile and nearly dragged Orihime along toward the classroom. They crashed haphazardly toward the classroom, and Tatsuki felt her fingers lose hold.
"Shit!" she muttered softly as she toppled to the ground, clawing at the wall for balance next to the someone she'd collided with in the doorway. Almost unhealthily lanky, with a sleek blue tie and black hair that she instantly decided was the perfect visual representation of the word "flop:" Ishida—was that his name? She cursed under her breath again. Tatsuki tugged desperately at Orihime's hand and glared at the boy, daring him to apologize. With one thin finger she saw him slowly and precisely push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
In the split second between the moment she registered his name and the moment she thought to be angry, Uryu Ishida was gone, faster than she thought possible, the tail of his white shirt whipping around the corner.
The radio in the hallway burped out soft strains of jazz, and standing alone in the entrance to the classroom, Tatsuki shivered.