DISCLAIMER: I don't own Bleach. Never will.

A/N: Welcome to my fourth fic ever! Yeah, I know the concept of amnesia has been used way too much, but please just overlook that fact for now. -does puppy eyes- And anyway, if you think about it, the idea of some high school/junior high kid fighting monsters is pretty clichéd too. And yet? Bleach is still awesome!!!

One more thing. I'm really sorry for not updating since…um…like a million years. Or something. My apologies. -bows head in shame-

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"Hey."

"Hey yourself," Rukia answered. She was lying on his bedroom floor, reading something. Ichigo wasn't quite sure he wanted to know what it was.

He walked over to his bed and picked up a book of his own.

Rukia's face appeared over the top of her book, looking suspicious. "What are you reading?"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream."

"What's that?"

"It's a play by William Shakespeare."

"Who's he?"

"A guy."

"What kind of guy?" she urged. Ichigo felt a twinge of annoyance.

"He was a guy who wrote a lot of plays and poems," he said flatly. "Now stop bugging me."

"Tell me more!"

"Why?! Go check him up yourself."

"I need to know to expand my knowledge of this world."

"Yeah, so go find out yourself!"

Rukia glared at him but disappeared back behind her book.

Ichigo sighed and went back to his own book. Or he tried, anyway. He couldn't help but notice her eyes grow huge whenever she read something that shocked her. It was kind of funny, actually. Ichigo failed to suppress a laugh.

She looked up irritably. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he quickly said, still laughing. "You're just so…so…"

"So what?"

"Never mind."

"I wanna know!"

"I said never mind!"

"Tell me!" she shouted, dropping her book and lunging at him. Ichigo stopped laughing. "I…hey! What're you doing? Get off me!"

"Tell me first!"

"God…you're really annoying, you know that?"

Her eyes narrowed but she still clung to him persistently.

"Okay…fine. I was laughing at something I read."

"Ichigo…" Her voice sounded a bit threatening.

"Okay, okay! I was laughing at you."

"Why?!"

"'Cause you looked funny."

Rukia's hand instinctively flew up to her hair. "Is my hair messed up?"

"No, it was your face. You were…you were just freaking out like every five seconds." He looked over the edge of the bed at her. "Seriously."

"Ichigo!" He felt a sharp jab at his arm before she got up and walked into his closet.

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He'd realized just a few nights ago. He had been lying in bed, just staring up at the ceiling when she popped into his head. He couldn't seem to get her out of his mind recently…no matter how hard he tried. As a result, he was zoning out during class a lot and while trying to work on his homework.

But how was he supposed to tell her? He wasn't like Keigo, who confessed his love randomly to the prettiest girl nearby. And wasn't a master at sewing like Uryu, so he couldn't just sew her some plushie to make her happy.

I was…so close last night. He had been dying to tell her, and it had seemed like the perfect opportunity…but then again, so had all those other times.

Ichigo was repeating last night in his mind, over and over again as he walked down the stairs to the kitchen to get some food for Rukia. Unfortunately, his dad was sitting at the table, reading a newspaper. "Hey Ichigo! How is my favorite son?"

"Shut up, old man." He was in no mood for another "loving" father-son conversation.

Isshin looked hurt. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothin'."

"Aw, come on. Don't say that. I know something's bugging you."

Ichigo looked at his father's grinning face. Sure he was stupid…but…how had he told Masaki?

"Hey…Dad…when you first met Mom, how did you let her know you liked her?"

Isshin was about to say, Ahhh, girl problems, eh? when he saw the dead-serious expression on Ichigo's face. "Well, son…I know it's not always easy to just go up to a girl and tell them you like them. And you'd feel stupid if you just walked up to them and handed them a gift in front of everyone. What if she rejects you? So what I did was I left her a note. No one else had to know about it, just the two of us." He leaned back in his chair and grinned, remembering.

Amazingly, Ichigo didn't roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment. "But how did you give it to her?"

"I slipped it in her pocket, hoping she'd find it later." He laughed loudly. "I remember worrying all that night, imagining what would happen if she didn't."

"Thanks, Dad," he said, quickly scooping some rice into a bowl and some sushi. He'd suddenly remembered that Rukia was probably upstairs, still waiting and wondering what the heck was taking him so long.

"Anytime, son." As Ichigo dashed back up the stairs, Isshin went back to his newspaper, chuckling. "Young love…"

"Here's your food, Rukia," Ichigo yelled, setting the tray in front of the closet door before returning to his desk. As usual, the door slid open and a small hand reached out, grabbed the tray, and disappeared back into the closet, closing the door after it.

Ichigo sighed and ripped a piece of paper out of his math notebook. Let's see…how do I write this…

Dear Rukia,

Too formal, he thought. He crossed it out and wrote:

Hi Rukia,

And then he spent another ten minutes staring at what he wrote.

His mind had come to a complete blank. What was he supposed to say? 'I love you'? 'I think you're pretty'?

"Ichigo?" A quiet voice snapped him from his thoughts.

"Yeah?" he called back, trying not to sound flustered.

"Thanks for the food."

"Stupid, I bring you food everyday. Why are you only saying this now, ungrateful brat?" he joked.

A Chappy pillow hit him squarely on the back of his head.

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Okay, I know so far this has absolutely NOTHING to do with the summary, but don't worry. It'll get there…maybe in chappy three? It'll make more sense then.

As for now! Please review, but PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't tell me how clichéd this idea is! I know that this idea has been used a lot, and I fully admit that. If you don't, I'll give you a gold star. XD – Kuchiki-chan