Author's Note: This is more of an unconventional Bleach story, more of an concept. I challenged myself to write the Bleach characters out of the roles set out for them yet still retain their essences. In order to keep my creative juices following, the chapters will be short but still dramatic. Happy reading!
CHAPTER ONE
A black shiny train, lighted by a full moon in a hazy but calm sky, roared towards me. The wheels protested against the rusty tracks as the mustard colored caboose turned on its broken axel.
I sighed.
Actually, there was no train. Unless you counted Ulquiorra's snoring. He could inhale the half-glued, half-falling off diamond shaped ceiling tiles if he really tried. I wanted him to try. At least then, something exciting would happen.
My pillow vibrated as my alarm sounded. As I rubbed my eyes, my poor little cell phone crashed down the side of the waterbed. I glanced over at Ulquiorra. He coughed in his sleep and rolled unto his stomach, revealing more pale white skin.
I scooped up my cell and headed downstairs.
"Morning," said Yumichika, reading the newspaper. "Your usual is in the fridge next to the margarine."
I nodded and found my favorite breakfast treat: French toast sandwich with horseradish and spaghetti noodles.
"Orihime," said Yumichika.
I arched an eyebrow and munched on the cold slippery spaghetti noodles. "Yes, Yumi," I said in between bites.
"You sure you aren't pregnant?" he said.
I nearly choked on my sandwich. Yumichika's eyes widened. "Oh Yumi, you're so silly," I said, adding a touch of shrill to my voice which seemed to ease Yumichika. His muscles relaxed and he returned to reading his morning paper, although his jaw remained firmly set.
Yumichika noticed my awkward staring. "You don't like the hair?" Since converting to Catholicism from "a life of vagrant homosexuality leading to hell and unhappiness" (his own words, yes.), he had gotten a military cut and personality transplant. Instead of quoting the Humanist Manifesto and going to rallies, he now quoted scripture and went to daily Mass. All that seemed left of the carefree, flamboyant Yumichika was rainbow tattoo on his left palm and an index finger that unconsciously twirled air, searching for a soft hair strand to caress.
We had all changed after Grimmjow's death.
"It's different," I said.
"Woman," said Ulquiorra, walking the downstairs in his football boxers. "Where is your eyeliner?"
"In the left drawer," I said. Ulquiorra went back upstairs to finish his morning ritual of Goth eyeliner, green contacts, and blank stares. "Who is he today?" I said to Yumichika, poking his newspaper with my thumb.
"Pete Wentz," he replied.
"Adam Lambert," I said.
"Brett Michaels," Ulquiorra said from above. For all I knew, he was serious. That damn monotone never revealed anything juicy. "You're late."
I threw out the rest of my sandwich. I grabbed my belongings and bolted towards school, my dread increasing with every step.
Today I'd see Ichigo Kurosaki, the man I could never forgive.
Author's Note: Pete Wentz is the bassist for Fall Out Boy. Brett Michaels is the lead singer for Poison (an 80s hair metal band) and now a reality star in "Rock of Love" on VH1. All wear guy-liner.
EDIT: Adam Lambert has now replaced Brendan Urie. Lambert is from "American Idol" Season 8. Thanks, Mizu-chan!