Rukia, perched on the side of her desk, fingers the ends of my hair absently. "You could really use a trim, Ichigo. You're starting to get a mullet."

"Maybe mullets are cool." I mutter, more concerned with getting my homework done before the bell rings than the state of my hair.

"I'm serious." she insists. "You should really get it cut. Maybe dyed, too." She swings her legs, impishly kicking the leg of my desk and then my thigh. "Hey. Are you even listening to me?"

"I'm trying to freakin do my homework, here!" I snap at her. "Go bother someone else!"

She reaches over and pokes my temple. "But no one else makes such cute faces when I tease them."

Seriously, I do not need this right now. "Rukia, go away before I throw you away."

"I can't. This is my desk. I'll get in trouble if I'm not sitting here." she says, mock innocent. I go back to my work, determined to ignore her at any cost. It's only been a few weeks since she started attending my school, and already I've had enough of this particular soul reaper. I mean, besides going to the bathroom, I don't think there's one minute where she's somewhere that I'm not. She sticks to me like glue-and more often than not drags me into her insane schemes and weird fantasies. Between battling Hollows and putting up with her, it's a miracle I even remember that I have homework.

I scribble a few random answers down for the last three math problems on my pre-calc worksheet and tuck it into my homework folder just as the final bell rings. There's the usual din of scraping chairs and rustling paper as everyone stands up to begin the day, and I easily slide into the same old morning routine, all crises on temporary standby.

Then the note lands on my desk.

This is you with a mullet. It isn't cool. Beside the words is a childish scrawl of a stick figure, with messy hair colored in an orange crayon. I glance at Rukia. She beams and mouths haircut. I pretend to be very interested in the teacher.

The problem with Rukia, I've learned, is that she is not familiar with the concept of letting things go. At lunch she announces, "Ichigo wants to look like an eighties rock star." Whoever taught her about rock stars, I want to murder, because every eye in our group turns to me, even Ishida, who was up until now pretending that he was just happening to eat his lunch near us.

"Why?" Orihime asks the obvious.

"I don't." I growl. "Rukia just thinks she's clever."

"Haircut!" my annoying roommate sings out. "I'm telling you, it'd be a real improvement!"

And now everyone is looking at my hair. Chad makes a noncommittal noise-traitor-and Keigo shouts out, "She's right! You look like you have a lion's mane or something!"

Ishida sniffs. "Unkempt hair is the sign of a poor student." Now that was just uncalled for. And why does he care? He's the one with the inky broom on his head.

"It could use a little shortening . . ." even Tatsuki joins in the madness, leaning forwards to grab a hunk of my hair in her fingers. I sigh. Why is this so fascinating to them?

"Not that it's anyone's business," I say loudly, "but I'll go and get my hair cut. Everyone happy? Can we go back to eating lunch now?"

"You should totally shave your head!" Keigo cries, apparently not happy and not returning to his lunch. "Then no one would give you a hard time about your dye job."

I can't punch my friends-I can't punch my friends-I can't punch my friends- "For the last time, my hair grows this way!" I yell. "Now everyone shut up about hair!"

Everyone shuts up. Rukia crosses her legs and takes my lunch box, digging in like it's her own. "There's no need to get so touchy." she sniffs. "I just wanted to help."

And now they're on her side.

"Yeah, why're you so cranky, Ichigo?" Mizuiro asks. "Rukia was just being nice."

"If Ichigo doesn't want to get his hair cut, that's his business." Orihime defends me, beginning a whole argument on my hair.

"He does have a duty to the student body to be presentable." Ishida goes.

"He can have whatever hairstyle he wants." Chad grunts, no doubt more defending his own curly mess.

"Some people have religious reasons for not cutting their hair." Orihima says, randomly. Tatsuki gives her a look. "This pertains-how?"

"Well, maybe it's against Ichigo's religion or something." she explains.

Rukia snorts. "His only religion is his fist, if you ask me." Which no one did.

"Do you have a religion?" Keigo asks me, like it's something scandalous.

"Isn't that the Jews?" Mizuiro asks Orihime, who shrugs. "Maybe the Muslims?"

"No, the Jews have circumcision." Ishida leans forwards to explain.

"What's that?" Orihime asks him.

Cue silence and a lot of eye blinking. I break the awkwardness with a loud, " I am not Jewish, okay?! I just haven't had time to go and get my hair cut!"

"Trust me, Ichigo isn't circumcised." Rukia mutters to Orihime, and I have to literally restrain myself from throttling her. "But what is it?" the other girl asks.

I groan. "Rukia, a word?"

"Bunnies." she says promptly.

"I mean, can I speak with you for a second?" I ask through gritted teeth. She immediately gets up, and we walk a ways off from the group, where a scowling Tatsuki is trying to answer Orihime's question in a non-embarrassing way. Keigo keeps looking at Rukia and me with that eyebrow-waggling expression people get when they're idiots who want to imply something's going on.

"Can you try to not embarrass me in front of my friends?" I hiss, once we're out of ear-and-eyeshot. Rukia looks up at me innocently. "I was just trying to help." Like hell she was.

"Really? By implying-" I can't get the words out without blushing. "That you've peeked at my . . . stuff . . .?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Sorry?"

I duck down and hiss the explanation in her ear, so as not to give passersby anything else to gawk at. Rukia's eyes go wide. "Oh. Is that what circumcision is?"

"You didn't know?!" I seriously want to kill her. "Geez, before you go around opening your mouth, ask me first! Now my friends think we're sleeping together, and all because you won't let go of that stupid haircut idea!"

She reaches up and fingers my hair again. "It really is getting long." she sighs.

I clench my hands into fists. "Rukia?"

"Yeah."

"Run." It's all the warning I give before I charge her, screaming bloody murder. She dashes up a tree, flips out-showing the world and I her underwear-and scrams, which is good, because if I catch her, I might just have to kill her. There's no way, I tell myself, no way I'm going to survive much longer having to put up with this bratty girl. I'm just counting the days until she's gone for good.

I swear I won't miss her.