"I quit."

"Excuse me?"

Ichigo Kurosaki stood coolly in front of his boss' desk, hands in his pockets. Yuuto Watanabe, founder and president of Shin'ō's Digest, bent over a single piece of paper in the center of his desk. Titled in fine print, it read: 'Letter of Resignation'.

"I quit."

Yuuto sat up straight in his desk chair, staring hard at his subordinate.

"What do you mean you quit?" Yuuto gawked at Ichigo, hanging on his response. "You're our top sports marketer! You brought in every brand name we've got, for Christ's sake!"

Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm sorry, sir, but I need to do what's best for me."

"Like hell, best for you! This company is what's best for you!"

"I hate to say it," replied Ichigo, grimacing, "but it isn't. I'm very grateful for the support you've given me as a writer, and for my time here, but it's come to an end and I was hoping to give you my notice respectfully."

"You were offered another job."

"Pardon me?" Ichigo shifted uncomfortably; he had not expected such an outward reaction from his boss.

"Who was it?" Yuuto demanded. "Nakuri Monthly? Hokutan Beat? The Dangai? Or was it those bastards at The Maggot's Nest?"

"Sir, I don't have another job lined up. I only feel as if my time at this company has ended – it's all right there on the letter – I'm truly sorry."

There was silence for a moment, before his red-faced boss spoke again.

"You're not quitting."

"Sir"

"You're not quitting, because you're fired."

"What?"

Yuuto stood from his desk, striding up and over to Ichigo.

"Sir—!"

"You're done! Pack up your things and get the hell out."

Yuuto was practically chasing Ichigo out of his office at this point, pushing him through the doorframe with sheer force of will. Ichigo stepped back, uncaring for the idea of a physical altercation with a former employer.

"But—"

"NOW!"

With that, he slammed the door to his office in Ichigo's face. The ginger turned around, embarrassed to find nearly everyone in the office was peering over their cubicles, struggling to watch the squabble without being obvious. Ichigo swallowed hard on the way to his smaller office. He certainly hadn't expected Watanabe to react in such outward anger. Of course, he was in a high enough position to be given an office, but he definitely wasn't irreplaceable. Plenty of capable journalists and marketers sat in those tiny cubicles, many of them probably even more deserving of their own space.

Ichigo picked up an empty paper bin and began placing the things on his desk inside of it. After some time, the office was empty, save for a small bookcase, desk and chair. He took out his phone, passing off a quick message to his ride home. Ichigo grabbed his electronics and stuffed them inside of his messenger bag. He swung the heavy bag around his shoulders, and picked up the paper bin with one hand, propping it against his side. Shutting the light off, he stepped out of the office. A few stragglers still tried for the transitory curious glance from behind their workstations, but Ichigo paid no mind. He was about to step away, just before placing the paper bin down for a moment. He faced the door, and slid his metal nameplate from the slot in the middle, pocketing it.

On his way out, he passed a brief wave to those in the office who may have still been staring, though he didn't turn his back. He'd never made many friends within the office itself; even the secretary, Mahana, had spoken very few words to Ichigo during his time at the company. He looked around the lobby of the main floor when he arrived, but disappointingly, he saw no familiar face, and proceeded to his exit.

"Finished your notice already?" came a familiar voice.

Ichigo turned to see Sado Yasutora, the building's day security. He was a large man, who towered even over Ichigo, who was quite tall to begin with.

"I actually just handed it in," said Ichigo, "but Watanabe wouldn't take it, and fired me instead."

"Never liked the guy." the tall man said simply. It was quiet for a moment, before Sado spoke again. "I'll miss seeing you around, Ichigo."

"We'll stay in touch." Ichigo smiled warmly at the man, who he had grown to like very much. On his first day at the magazine, the elevator had broken, and the only way up was through the split staircase, which had proven quite troublesome when Ichigo was unable to find his particular office floor. Wandering around lost, he'd stumbled upon the security guard, who had shown him where to go. Since then, the two had been friendly, making conversation whenever time allowed, and hanging out when the workday was short and lenient.

Ichigo passed his phone number onto Sado, and they spoke quietly amongst one another, until a sleek, black sedan pulled up in front of the doors.

"Well, that's my ride," said Ichigo, gesturing towards the luxury vehicle. "I'll see you around?"

Sado nodded, and held the door open for the man. "See you, Ichigo."

Ichigo nodded back, grateful for the hand of help, and walked up to the car. The door seemed to open on its own, though behind it, was a slim, pale female, leant over to push the door open. She blew upwards, pushing dark strands from her eyes to reveal clear, amethyst eyes that shone warmly.

"Thanks, Rukia," he said, stuffing the box into the floor of the passenger's seat. He climbed in, holding his legs close, cursing her brother's choice of a small, efficient vehicle for her birthday. "This car isn't made for someone of my size."

"You could've put that in the trunk," she replied, putting the vehicle in drive and pulling out of the lot. "How'd it go?"

"Terrible; Watanabe threw me out."

"I was wondering why you were packing up so early," she said, eyebrow cocked though her focus remained on the road. "I thought you were quitting."

"I was in the middle of it when he fired me."

Rukia made a curt noise of understanding. "Well, you've got great timing, because I'm on my way to work right now."

"Isn't my apartment on the other side of the city?"

"We're not going to your apartment." she replied, smirking. "I have a few people I want to introduce you to."

"Wait, what? What does that have to—"

"Are you forgetting what I do for a living?"

Ichigo took a moment before light bulbs began flashing in his head. Rukia was a head hunter for Konso, a popular magazine, far more renowned than minor Shin'ō's Digest.

"You're fucking kidding me."

"Why would I be? I got Orihime a job, didn't I?"

"Orihime's more qualified than I am. This is Konso, Rukia. One of the biggest magazines in the country. As in, I have no potential in that kind of environment."

"Who are you trying to kid, Ichigo? You get this business. You know sports, you're an amazing writer." she said, finally turning to look at him while stopped at a light. "Look, simply put. I know you. And I know that you're good at your job. That's why you quit, isn't it? The company wasn't fulfilling you anymore. Don't you want something more challenging?"

Ichigo was left speechless as she began to drive again. Sure, he was a little unsure of his skill, but Rukia was right about one thing – he craved challenge. He sat soundlessly for a minute before turning to her again.

"I need to change my clothes."

"Like I'm going to drive you over to your apartment so you can change," Rukia replied sarcastically, smirking. "You look fine."

"The office is too far from my new place."

"Your car's in the shop, it's not going to be gone forever," she sighed. "Come on, Ichigo."

"I don't have a resume."

"I've told them everything they need to know."

"I didn't brush my teeth this morning."

"Stop making excuses, dumbass. We're here, anyways."

Rukia pulled into the underground parking lot, flashing her ID card at the parkade security. When they were finally parked, the raven-haired girl glanced at Ichigo, a grin plastered on her face.

"You ready?"


Genryūsai Yamamoto sat behind his desk, listening to about the hundredth person hoping to fill the position of being the new sports section art director of Konso, the magazine he headed. Editor, Yoruichi Shihōin, leant back against the wall, arms folded, listening raptly. Her golden eyes appeared lacklustre, filled with boredom.

Against the complaint of many, he was going to go with an outside hire, though he was aware the hunt would not be easy. Now, he was sitting and listening to some man rambling on about how he would be the best for the magazine. He stared for a second before standing and speaking.

"I want to thank you for coming, but there are others who wish to be interviewed. You will be contacted by either myself, or editor Yoruichi Shihōin. Good day."

Yamamoto escorted the young man out of his office. He breathed deeply as he sat back down, thinking.

"Every person who has come through this door has been an idiot," Yoruichi spoke bitterly, rather brash. Yamamoto did not acknowledge her as she continued to speak. "Either that, or simply incapable of the job. Damn, Shiba was one of a kind."

"Kaien's resignation is of our least concern at this time."

Yamamoto spoke with finality; Yoruichi had nothing more to say.

Going through the rest of the files, Yamamoto sorted them into the usual labelled baskets – simply categorized by NO, YES, and SECOND INTERVIEW. Yoruichi snorted at the dangerously low YES pile.

The only one in the stack had yet to be opened. Upon emptying the file, Yamamoto came across a name that seemed familiar. 'Ichigo Kurosaki' was the name.

"Rukia Kuchiki's reference," said Yoruichi, speaking aloud what Yamamoto had been thinking. "Are we still waiting on her to bring him in?"

The man in the chair reorganized the file, placing it neatly in front of himself.

"She left message with Hinamori at the front desk, approximately twenty minutes ago," he said. "He should be here any moment now."


In the elevator, Ichigo could not stop fidgeting with his tie. Straightening it, loosening it, tightening it – a nervous habit. Rukia slapped his hand in an attempt to quell his anxious twiddling.

"Calm down," said Rukia, who looked as complacent as ever. "It's no big deal. They're going to hire you, anyways."

"You don't know that," said Ichigo, who had now stuffed his hands into his pockets. Rukia smirked at him as the elevator doors opened, leaving Ichigo worried. Stepping out of the small compartment, Ichigo took in the grand office space. It was much more aesthetically pleasing than the old, dreary building he was just in. Large windows took up great wall space, and with whatever wasn't covered by glass, had a print-size magazine cover framed upon it. The floor was large, and with what couldn't fit on just one, a spiral staircase ascended to the next floor, where Ichigo could only assume more workspace was accrued.

"Good afternoon, Rukia," spoke a woman who Ichigo could only assume to be the receptionist. "And guest. Is this the one you were talking about?"

Rukia greeted the receptionist back, smiling convivially. "Yes, hopefully our new sports director."

Ichigo waved at the girl, feeling somewhat awkward. He wanted to berate himself, nervous for a job interview. He was a grown man – this was no time for the jitters.

"Hey, Rukia," came a voice from an approaching man. He was tall and lean, shaggy, pale blonde hair falling just over his eyes. He looked over at Ichigo, something mischievous hiding in his grey eyes. "This the new meat? Urahara, nice to meet you." He extended a hand towards the orange-haired man, who took it in a firm shake.

"Don't make him nervous, Kisuke," chastised Rukia. Kisuke only continued to smile at Ichigo, who almost shrunk into himself.

"Yoruichi's gonna fry him like a steak, I can already see it." Ichigo blanched. "Nice meeting you, Ichigo."

The man disappearing, turning off somewhere in between the workspaces. Rukia sighed.

"Don't pay any attention to him; he just likes to start trouble."

"I can see that," muttered Ichigo.

Rukia began walking towards a set of double doors at the end of the office, and Ichigo followed suit. They stopped in front of the entrance, where she began to take her leave.

"I have to start work now, so it's all on you, got it?" she said, trying to sound as encouraging as possible. "Just be yourself. I set everything else up for you, so try not to worry as much. Yoruichi can sense that kind of stuff."

Ichigo felt somewhat less heartened, especially after all of this talk of 'Yoruichi', and whoever that was, they sounded rather intimidating. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

Underneath his fist, the door yanked open, mid-knock. A tanned woman stared out from behind the door, her golden eyes piercing into him. She stared for just a moment before a cat-like grin spread across her face.

"You must be Ichigo," she said, "Come on in."

To Ichigo's surprise, she grabbed him by the wrist and actually pulled him in. She closed the door behind him, then rounding off to the other side of the desk. An elderly man sat poised in the desk chair, staring forward.

He looked around cautiously. It was a large room, with tall windows covering almost the entire surface of the opposite wall, quite similar to the general office space shared by the rest of the employees. A wall on the left side procured an impressive display of library shelves to match the stateliness of the office. Behind a polished, redwood desk, an elderly man sat, looking dignified.

Ichigo could only assume the man sitting behind it was the one who Rukia had wanted him to speak with, and possibly his future employer. The man didn't appear to be very concerned with getting up and greeting him. The woman in the corner, whom Ichigo thought to be this daunting Yoruichi, stared him down, her grin remaining. Behind the fire of her eyes however, Ichigo felt she was calculating him, evaluating his worth.

Ichigo cleared his throat.

"Rukia Kuchiki referred me to this company, and I am willing to take whatever position you may offer," he ventured.

"How unambitious," Yoruichi mumbled. Ichigo recoiled slightly, embarrassed. "Any position? Have some grit, boy."

"Come further, I haven't got all day," said the man behind the desk. Ichigo stepped forwards, taking the seat in front of the desk.

He felt nervous. "I haven't prepared a resume, to my apologies. I was unaware that we would be conducting an interview under such short notice."

Yoruichi clicked her tongue.

The man picked up the papers before him, examining them carefully.

"Kuchiki has made me aware of your skills, work experience and your relevant talent. I have also learned that you are currently employed as the top sports marketer at Shin'ō's Digest. Very impressive, however, to ensure that we do not waste time, I must ask of your capabilities as an artistic director for our sports section."

Ichigo swallowed, this was it. The deciding factor.

"I actually resigned today, in search of a new challenge. I am always looking to expand my horizons, which is why I passed on my time at Shin'ō's. I'm a very fast learner, very organized, though I have little experience as an art director, I would be willing to learn as much as it takes in the limited amount of time this industry presents."

Yamamoto leaned back in his desk, eyeing the papers in his hands. Yoruichi looked on intently, before walking over to the desk and leaning on it.

"When will you be able to begin working?" he asked finally. Ichigo almost sighed in exultation, before settling on a polite smile.

"As soon as I am needed."

Yoruichi's grin returned. "You can start tomorrow. Why not meet your higher-up though, eh? Got a moment?"

"Of course," replied Ichigo, nodding. He got out of his chair, finally able to breathe. Yoruichi picked up a landline phone, which Ichigo assumed connected to the receptionist's desk. "Yeah, Momo? We hired the guy. Yeah, that one." Ichigo watched Yoruichi as she continued on the phone, and the man at the desk remained an unreadable slate. She made a few noises of approbation, before chuckling. "Yeah, send him in. I'm sure he's dying to meet his new assistant."

Was that sarcasm in her voice?

Ichigo thought deeply to himself for a moment. He supposed quietly to himself that his nerves were just fried for being held in anticipation for so long. A short moment passed before the door opened, footsteps entering the room.

"Ah, Grimmjow. Meet your new best friend," said Yoruichi, her voice sweet though her face roguish. Ichigo turned, to see a tall, muscular man with the most shocking head of hair Ichigo had ever seen. His face was twisted into a sneer, hands shoved in his pockets. Ichigo's brown eyes met sky blue.

"Who the fuck is this guy?"