Chapter One:

I was minding my own business. Here I was eating a strawberry crème cake at my favorite bakery in Japan. I love college trips. Who knew japanese animation gave you so many opportunities?

I had Death Note fans asking for my autograph which were somehow just like L's. I have no idea how that happened, so don't ask. People were staring at the massive cake in front of me, but I ignored them.

I was having the time of my life. Eating cake. Sipping tea. Listening to L's theme on my iTouch. 64GBs. Only the best for L. Until my cell phone rang.

It was one of those amazing Japanese cellphones that were rectantle shaped and flipped open. You would expect it to be Death Note themed, but I decided I couldn't be all L or people would think I was crazy enough to think I was L. No. Instead of Death Note I chose... Detective Conan. Over 600 episodes, 800 chapters, 16 movies, and sponsered by McDonalds -don't eat there. It'll kill you. Cake is much more worth it.-. A cellphone charme hanged off the top left side of the infamous international criminal 1412. The one and only gentleman thief. That police annoying and magic loving thief called Kaito Kid.

Back to the point. I received a text message stating the following:

Dear Reader,

I hope you are actually reading this message and not just deleting it as spam mail as this will change your life. This text message will change your life in ways only fan fiction may and may change your views on life itself. I only hope your core does not change it's views on right and wrong. May you choose to accept this text you will be sent to an anime world and live your life with your favorite character. Again. I only hope you do not die in the path of justice. P.S. If you so choose to stay in the anime world you are in, your only available action will be to send a text back saying, "I am staying." Once again I implore you.

Have fun.

And

Don't die.

Right after that riduculous message a portal appeared under my chair and I dissapeared from the cafe shop at coincidently To-oh University.

I opened my eyes to see complete white. I could tell I was lying on the ground as I felt the ground on my back and no pressure on my feet. I don't know if blind people see only black or white so I lift my hand to my face and find that I haven't become blind. Good to know.

Now.. to the important question. Where am I. I could be in a coma for all I know and be dreaming. The text message could have sent my to Death Note as it was implying 'Justice' a number of times. But then again, Detective Conan deals with Justice as well. Both animes have no real correlation to white either so it can't be those... Where am I?

"Oh dear, it seems we have aquired another unanounced guest." A person with his brown hair slicked back with gel and cold, cruel brown eyes said looking down on my face.

I could feel the man's unrelenting gaze piercing my body. The worst thing this man has done was nothing but look at me, but I know what kind of person he is. I know he would kill off his own student. That he would kill his superiors. Betray his fellow comrads that were never comrads.

My last thought before drifting into the darkness was, "The fact of me being transportated in to Bleach was 100 % at the moment."

Aizen watched as the imsomiac closed his eyes from quite possibly exhaustion and noted to himself that he looked a lot like Ulquiorra. After sensing the boy slip into a deep sleep with Kyoka Suigetsu he ordered Syazel to look after his guest in his lab and to a full check up.

He wondered how this human managed to break into Las Noches without alerting any alarms.

Syazel ordered his fracion to carry the 'guest' to his laboratory and walked ahead of his edible servants.

I woke up in a very comfortable hospital bed... Scratch that. It's a laboratory bed. I slowly lifted myself up from my sleeping position and cracked the kinks out of my body. How long did I fall asleep? It couldn't have been that long since I don't sleep for three hours a night at most. I'm hungry.

This sucks. If this were an ideal fanfiction, my cake would have been transportated with me, but instead I had to have wasted thirty bucks on a noneated cake... I want cake.

Lifting myself up from the bed, I noticed I wasn't wearing my shoes. Good. I hate them anyway. I walked out of the creepy laboratory with specimen jars surrounding every available space. Syazel fucking Grantz's laboratory. Great.