"We have normality. I repeat; we have normality. Anything you still can't cope with is therefore your own problem."

- Douglas Adams

…And Justice for All

Act I - Enter the Unforgiven

Chapter I - Normality is Overrated

Wednesday, 20th of April

Kurosaki Ichigo rolled over on his bed with a dull groan as he realised he was awake. Throwing a forearm over his eyes, he tried to protect himself from the harsh glare of the sun, the early morning rays invading through the window next to his bed through the gap in the curtains. Off in the distance he could hear the birds chirping out a song together, gliding across the cloudless sky as they rode the morning breeze.

A strong, delicious scent wafted up to his room from the kitchen downstairs. The most likely culprit for the heavenly smell was none other than Yuzu - no doubt hard at work preparing the family breakfast as she did every morning.

Nevertheless, the teen just couldn't be bothered. He put it down to the fact he hadn't been sleeping well as of late. And with his father still due to drop by for his routine 'early-morning-wake-up-call' - nothing more than a flimsy excuse to attack his own son in his sleep - he'd only get grumpier as the day wore on if his usual luck was anything to go by.

"Onii-chan, breakfast is ready!"

Ichigo just grunted in response. Not that Yuzu could hear him all the way downstairs in the kitchen. Throwing his arm away from his face, the former Visored forced himself to sit up in bed, knowing he had to get up eventually anyway. Sighing, he ruffled his wild mane of spiky, shoulder length orange hair. Hippy, my ass… he scowled, recalling one of his father's newest, and current favourite, taunt.

"He can insult me when he gets rid of the stupid-ass goat beard," Ichigo grumbled to himself, throwing his legs over the side of his bed as he threw back the covers, planting his bare feet on the cool floorboards below. Sighing, he looked over at the wall beside his desk, a calendar hanging from the wall with the days crossed out as he counted down to summer vacation - which was months away still, the school year having only started at the beginning of April.

Hanging his head, Ichigo buried his face in his hands. I can't believe it's been seventeen fuckin' months already. Seventeen overly long months in which life had been nothing more than a boring blur as Ichigo dragged himself through the day. Feeling utterly useless all-the-while. If this is really what normality feels like, then it sucks.

He knew he shouldn't feel bitter over the whole ordeal of losing his powers - but he just couldn't help it. He felt as though everyone had left him behind in some odd fashion. Sure, he still hung out with Inoue, Chad and even the Quincy bastard Uryû on a day-to-day basis, but no longer was he there whenever one of them went off to fight some pesky Hollow or even the odd Arrancar left over from the Winter War who thought themselves strong enough to topple those that had defeated Aizen himself. I'm just dead weight now. The load.

The shoe was finally on the other foot. And I hate every single never ending second of it. It just wasn't fair. Even Karin had more spiritual power than he did; hell, probably Yuzu too, by this point.

Despite all the life threatening danger, he'd take being a Shinigami over being a boring high school senior any day of the week. At least when he was a Shinigami he could protect those that mattered to him – he'd been doing some good.

Grunting in frustration, he stood up and pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind as he stretched, allowing himself a moment to just stand there in his sleeping shirt and a pair of boxers. He shook himself off when he felt the tension drain from his joints.

Grabbing his old grey school uniform off the back of the wheelie chair tucked into the metal desk he had stationed next to the head of his bed, he headed for his bedroom door and from there he would take the risky journey to the bathroom. All the while, he was alert for any surprise attacks that would be coming his way.

Poking his head out of his bedroom door, Ichigo's gaze flicked back and forth between both ends of the corridor, on the lookout for his father. Where is that crazy old bastard? He's usually pounced at least twice by now… it didn't sit right with him. But then again, if his father had indeed miraculously forgotten to follow through with his usual morning ambush then he would make the most of it whilst he could.

But as soon as he entered the overly colourful second floor bathroom, he could have sworn he heard a soft snigger echoing out from the cracks in the walls. Pausing as he closed the door, Ichigo couldn't help but be on full alert. I wouldn't put it past the old man to attack me in the bathroom… but after scanning the pale blue titled room at least twice, he let out a sigh of relief and closed the door with a sharp click.

And that's when it happened.

"Super-special-awesome-father-shower-curtain-sneak-attack!" Kurosaki Isshin cried, tackling his son through the shower curtain, having been hiding on the other side for the better part of ten minutes. In his mad attempt to surprise Ichigo, he ended up forgetting to move the shower curtain first and pulled it down with him as he tackled his son around the waist with all his might; sending them both crashing to the floor.

Whilst the first round of the daily Kurosaki father-son battle royal ensued upstairs in the main bathroom of the Kurosaki Family Clinic and home - slightly behind schedule compared to most other days - downstairs in the kitchen, the two Kurosaki twins swapped looks, one of exasperation and the other of worry. Things seemed to be running just as they always did. Now all that was needed was the-

"Damn it, you old bastard!" Ichigo's outraged cry echoed throughout the entire house. No doubt half of Karakura heard it: it was a better wakeup call than any mass produced alarm-clock that was for sure.

Like clockwork… Kurosaki Karin, the dark haired twin, thought with a sour expression. She honestly did feel sorry for her older brother at times. Then again, she felt sorry for herself for having to put up with a man like Kurosaki Isshin for a father. Nobody should have to endure that kind of torture…

"How much do you wanna bet that if someone looked up the definition of dysfunctional family in the dictionary, they'd find a picture of us?" she said, deadpanning as she leaned back in her seat and gazed across the table at her twin. Following her question more roars of rage and bangs could be heard from the floor above, prompting her to roll her dark eyes. She really felt sorry for Ichigo. "This is ridiculous. I bet you Ichi-nii can't wait to go to college so he doesn't have to worry about Goat-chin attacking him every other ten minutes of the day."

Shaking her head, she pushed her bowl forward towards her sister, attempting to ignore the ghost hovering over her shoulder; she'd gotten used to it after nearly three years. Her sister, Yuzu, on the other hand, just smiled and nodded her understanding. Pushing away from the table, she moved to refill Karin's bowl. Meanwhile, Karin gave the ghost a quick punch, sending it flailing through the wall and out into the hall.

"You know daddy, Karin-chan," Yuzu offered in a knowing fashion, smiling to herself at the thought of the antics her father got up to when he wasn't supervised. It was difficult to tell who the real child of the household was these days, seeing as Kurosaki Isshin could act in a manner that made six year olds look mature beyond their years.

Not five seconds after Yuzu handed Karin back her bowl a loud thumping noise began to echo throughout the house, a large shape crashing to the bottom of the stairs with a high-pitched yelp. The blacked-haired twin just ignored it. Instead she picked up her chopsticks and began to eat her breakfast, knowing the heap would be her father; the idiot hadn't won a fight with Ichigo since their brother had hit puberty. With an annoyed sigh she blew some loose bangs out of her left eye, her raven hair no longer cropped but straight and smooth, pulled up into a loose ponytail at the back of her head.

"You never learn, do you?" was all she said to the child trapped in a man's body, turning a deaf ear to his wails of self-pity as he dashed into the room, throwing himself in front of his wife's memorial portrait. Yuzu, on the other hand, was torn, unsure whether to try and comfort the overly-dramatic man or not. A serving ladle in one hand, she held out the other in front of her, as if reaching out for her father. Her sister just shook her head, however, prompting her to retract her hand sharply.

"Don't encourage him," was all Karin had to say, spinning her chair around so she could watch the man now crying like a baby. Crossing her arms and legs as one, she tapped a sock covered foot off the hardwood flooring, causing the ends of her pleated navy school skirt to flutter with the movement. She and her sister had already dressed for school in their traditional white and navy sailor outfits. "You really did it this time, didn't you, Goat-chin?"

"Me?" Isshin cried in outrage, springing up from the floor and pointing at himself with an indignant look on his face. His spiky black hair swayed about as he recoiled at the look his tomboyish daughter was giving him, almost as if she'd slapped him silly. His deep amber-brown eyes welled up with tears again. The idiot was still dressed in his baggy sleeping pants and plain shirt, Karin noticed with disdain. Doesn't he have to open the clinic in half an hour? "What did I do? Your delinquent brother only has another year with us before going off to college! As man of the house it is my sworn duty to impart upon him as much of my knowledge as I can in that tiny time frame!"

"…You're an idiot," Karin stated blankly after pausing for a moment. Her comment was all it took to set her father off again. Meanwhile, she herself could only frown in annoyance. Shaking her head, she spun her chair back around and resumed her breakfast. At least she'd have plenty of experience for whenever she finally had kids - if any. Living with Isshin was more than enough.

"Oh, my dear Masaki!" Isshin almost shrieked, tears sprouting from his eyes like fountains as he clasped onto his knees, throwing his hands onto the picture of his beloved wife. Hands high in the air, his fingertips brushed the surface of the portrait. "All I ever do is attempt to help them become better people and they return my undying love and affection with scorn and abuse! Wherever did I go wrong?"

"Where do you want me to begin?" Karin threw back, looking over her shoulder at her father. In response the childish man only wept harder, his shrieks of despair barely audible anymore. Yuzu shot her younger sister a disapproving look.

"That was a little harsher than necessary, Karin-chan," she chided with a small frown. But Karin just shrugged back and returned to her breakfast. She honestly didn't understand why people thought she and Ichi-nii were the weird ones in the family. Clearly, they had not yet met Kurosaki Isshin, a fact that they should be eternally grateful for.

But Karin was soon dragged from her thoughts as her brother came stalking into the room, dressed in his usual grey school uniform with black t-shirt underneath. The older of the Kurosaki children quickly lifted one leg so their father, who was already in mid-tackle, came to an early stop when his face connected with Ichigo's sock-covered foot.

"Not in the mood, old man," Ichigo said, his brow twitching as his father crashed back to the floor, before jumping back to his feet and rushing towards the poster - sobbing again. The orange-haired young man could only let out an agitated sigh as he walked over to the table, taking the seat opposite Karin, who couldn't help but notice her brother looked much more worn and weary than usual. But nonetheless he smiled weakly as a sign of gratitude when Yuzu handed him breakfast his breakfast. "Thanks, Yuzu,"

"Anytime, Onii-chan~!" She beamed back, twirling on the spot before heading back to fetch her own breakfast as Isshin finally decided to give it a rest for the time being, taking his usual seat at the head of the table and quickly ravaging the breakfast his daughter had prepared for him. Getting constantly beaten senseless by Ichigo was a great way to build up an appetite. The family breakfast finally began to take a sense of normality as the minutes ticked by.

Or rather, everyone else had a sense of normalcy besides Karin, who could only glare into her bowl of half-eaten steamed rice and broiled fish with natto and soy sauce. The damn ghost was back again, and he would not shut up. This wasn't fair. She'd never asked to be able to see these damn things in the first place, and now that Ichigo couldn't see them, they were always coming to annoy her instead; moaning about their apparent problems. Sure, some were nice enough and could take a hint when needed. Apparently not this latest ghost. The short, plump, bespectacled man with greasy black hair just didn't seem to accept the fact she was trying her hardest to ignore him for all the good it did.

"Ah, don't be like that!" he moaned childishly, as though talking non-stop for the past five minutes was nothing for him. "I know you can see me~ C'mon, is it so bad I just want to talk to someone after so long? You're such a rude little girl, you know?" And Karin's resolve finally crumbled.

Snap. SLAM! "Will you just shut the hell up already!" Karin blinked in utter horror as the ghost recoiled like a wounded animal. But she hadn't even had a chance to open her mouth yet…

Casting her gaze across the table, she saw her brother standing over it, his cracked breakfast bowl having been slammed against the table, its contents spilling onto the wooden surface and his snapped chop sticks clutched in his other hand. And he looked utterly furious.

"Onii-chan, nobody was talking…" Yuzu squeaked, looking slightly fearful at her brother's sudden outburst. But Karin looked over her shoulder in horror, staring at the ghost now cowering in the corner. Can Ichi-nii hear him, too? she wondered, mouth slightly agape.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the table Ichigo did a double take, pushing away from the table, knocking his chair down with a clatter. He could only stare at his shocked family. Yuzu was right, there was only the four of them currently present and no one had been saying anything. Am I hearing things…? Have I finally cracked and gone batshit crazy like everyone said I would?

Ichigo's gaze briefly meet his father's, Isshin's expression caught between being furious over his son's outburst and worried because of it. Shaking his head, the former Visored quickly bent over and picked up his chair, pushing it into the table and fleeing from the room.

"I've got to get going to school, I'm going to be late!" he called over his shoulder, unable to deal with anyone else right now. He just needed time to think.

"Ichigo!" his father called after him. But it was too late. Ichigo had already grabbed his school bag from the base of the stairs, slipped his Converse on and was halfway out the door. "See you all after school!" he called, slamming the door behind him. Hanging his head, Ichigo ran and hand through his mess of spiky neck-length orange hair. Just what the hell is happening to me…?

On the edges of the Mitsumiya commercial distract of Karakura Town, a lone man stood outside a battered-looking building which was in need of some rather dire, and expensive, touch ups. The name Urahara Shõten was slapped across the white sign above the sliding door in painted in black kanji, the paint beginning to peel after years of neglect.

Leaning against the dark stained wall of the rickety old building, a traditional pipe perched between his lips, Urahara Kisuke watched the world pass him by from behind the shadows cast by the brim of his favourite green and white striped bucket hat. The smoke from his pipe danced playfully in the morning breeze. His usual black haori was draped over his shoulders, shielding him from the bitterly cold touch of said breeze.

As he took a slow drag of his pipe, he heard the door to his shop and home quietly slide open to his left. His steely grey eyes flicked to the side, offering a small nod of acknowledgement to his new companion as they stepped out, sliding the door closed behind them.

"It's good to see you again," he greeted in his usual jovial tone, a goofy smile tugging at his lips. But, after a moment's pause, he let his gaze return to the morning sky, waiting to see if a cloud would pop up as a means of distraction. Whilst on good terms, he and his companion hardly shared the perfect history with one another.

"It's good to see you again too, Urahara," was the reply. Then a beat of silence. "Thought I'd have liked it if it could have been under better circumstances." Urahara merely offered a soft hum of agreement. No doubt his companion was probing for information, scratching at the surface to see if he knew any more than they did. "The higher ups within Soul Society are very concerned over what's been happening over the past few weeks: both here and the occasional incident within Rukongai, too."

"And with good reason." Urahara nodded in grim agreement, though he had a hard time repressing a chuckle after taking note of his companion's annoyed expression out of the corner of his eye. "I've never seen anything quite like this before. The Reiatsu is most particular. It doesn't bode well." The way the man spoke, he could have been talking about the weather of all things.

His companion merely gave an undignified snort, folding their arms over their chest and rolling their eyes. How un-lady-like of her, he sniggered to himself.

"The Captain-Commander has requested that if you possess any knowledge on the situation that you please share it with us. I am also to inform you that the Central Forty Six has ordered your full cooperation."

Is that so…? Urahara thought with a bemused smile, though he quickly adjusted his hat to hide his offending smile. I was unaware that my full pardon brought me back under the command of the Gotei Thirteen and the Central Forty Six. Instead he just decided to cup his chin in a mock-thoughtful manner, shaking his head slightly. I guess it goes with the territory of all the reforms taking place within both the Central Forty Six and the Gotei itself. Now that's something he never thought he'd live to see - let alone both happen at the same time. But as he pushed the brim of his bucket hat upwards and made to take a drag on his pipe, he could quite clearly see his fellow Shinigami watching him with interest.

"You're assuming I do know more than Soul Society," he said after a moment of supposed thought, tone childishly airy and rather condescending. All he got for his dry wit was another roll of the eyes. You forget, I don't have the resources I once did and I was only prepared as I was for Aizen because I knew he was going to turn eventually. I don't have that this time. "Assumptions like those have been known to get people killed in the past. I wouldn't like to see that happen again, and to you of all people."

"Yes. But when assumptions about knowledge which involve you are almost guaranteed to hold true to the idea that you know more than you let on, Urahara."

The Shinigami Captain turned shop-keeper gave a sheepish chuckle. The barb did not go unmissed, and he felt the strange need to pull the brim of his hat back down hide his eyes. He probably deserved that one, though, he mused. "Personal experience aside, I'm sure you know something. Even if it isn't much more than what we already know, you wouldn't really be Urahara Kisuke if you weren't at least a step ahead of everyone else."

"Please, you make too much of me," Urahara waved off the praise with a feminine flick of his wrist. Though his devilish grin did not hide the fact his ego did enjoy the stroking - he was a man after all. All men liked a good stroking - in more than one way, he sniggered to himself. But the fake cough from his companion sent his perverted train of thought screeching from the tracks. "…I might have one or two theories as to what is going on. Nothing concrete, though." It's all speculation for the time being. But I pray those speculations are wrong.

"I thought as much," was the reply. His companion was by no means stupid. Far from it. Though she was a little sceptical of Urahara at times, it wasn't like the man gave her reason not to be. She trusted that he knew when it was time to joke around and when it was time to act his age…metaphorically speaking, anyway. But that made her think, just how old was Urahara really?

"Ah well, there'll be plenty of time for idle chit-chat later. I believe you have somewhere to be, isn't that right, Lieutenant?" He didn't miss the slight widening of her eyes, nor the flush of her checks. Oh yes, he knew about that. "I would say congratulations are in order, but that would be a little premature of me, wouldn't it?" he teased with a chuckle.

"I'm sure that's not the only time you've been premature, Urahara." He couldn't help but smile at the indignant grumbles from the other Shinigami. He'd never pegged her as one for little innuendos such as the number that she had retorted with. But then again, Urahara mused with an amused expression, a year and half did a lot to change a person.

But as the grumbling relented, Urahara produced a phone from the pocket of his green pants, quickly pulling out a ring binder stuffed with information from nowhere almost immediately afterwards. The young woman took them and muttered a weak "Arigatõ, Urahara."

"Thank me later." Urahara shook his head, smiling to himself. "All the details concerning the Shinigami currently on duty in Karakura are stored in the folder. You'll no doubt run into them before the day is out. I've also chosen to include some of my test data concerning the strange occurrences that have taken place over the past four or five weeks. You yourself might not find them very useful, but if handed to the Twelfth, I'm sure someone could put them to good use. I've also upgraded your Soul Pager: it's now capable of detecting these strange portals, or whatever they are, should one appear within range of you. But," he added, seeing her turn away from him. His voice lowered and his face became unusually serious as he chanced a glance around them for a brief second. "I suggest you exercise extreme caution if you do opt to investigate whatever is coming out of these portals. The readings and information I've gather so far suggest whatever they are, they're more dangerous than your average Hollow; much more… Now run along or you're going to be late~!"

She could only blink at his sudden change in demeanour. One second Urahara was having one of his serious moments, and the next, he was back to being the jovial fool she knew him as, whipping out his stupid fan despite the cold morning breeze. It was probably just him showing off, she concluded after a moment.

Nonetheless, she offered a thankful nod for his words of concern and the information. Tucking her Soul Pager in to the pocket of her grey pleated skirt, she hid the folder insider her shoulder-bag, quickly making sure it fit inside with all her books and supplies before zipping the back up. Meanwhile, Urahara just watched her out of the corner of his eye. She'd definitely changed since the last time he'd spoke to her personally: there was just something about the way she carried herself now. "You might want to fix your tie," Urahara said casually, pointing his folded fan at the tangled mess around her neck, which had been done in a rush.

The Shinigami just nodded, quickly untying and retying the red material around her neck, making sure the collar of her white shirt was straight. She wanted to make a good first impression, after all. "Gomennasai, Urahara, but you're right. I must be off now or else I'll be late." She gave a quick bow and Urahara nodded his understanding, sliding his fan back up his sleeve for later.

Taking one final puff of his pipe, the shop keeper watched the young Shinigami disappear from sight around the corner. Humming to himself softly, he emptied ash onto the ground at his feet and pocketed his pipe, deciding it was time to return to business as usual now that everything had been taken care of.

"You certainly have a way with people, Kisuke," a masculine voice comment from around his ankle, prompting the shop keeper to look down, seemingly befuddled by the sudden arrival of yet another familiar face. Though said face was covered in black fur and had whiskers…

"Yoruichi~!" he sang, grabbing the black off the ground and lifting her into his arms. "Who's a good kitty, who's a good kitty~?" he cooed, tickling the cat's belly. Smirking as he elicited a content purr from his feline companion, the platinum blond could only chuckle to himself in victory. Though in the back of his mind, he knew that Yoruichi would get him back for this humiliation later.

And part of him couldn't wait. After all, Yoruichi could be rather… creative, when it came to thinking up new punishments for him.

"If you weren't you, Kisuke, I'd scratch your face off," the cat muttered, trying to wriggle out of the tickle-fest and regain some measure of dignity. The former Captain of the Twelfth Division gave an exasperated sigh of betrayal, allowing his face to fall into a childish pout.

"You can be so cruel sometimes, Yoruichi."

"Why don't we test your theory and see how cruel I can be?" the cat rebuked with something akin to a smirk. Yep, he was definitely going to get it later. But the pair of old friends shared a small chuckle, Yoruichi curling up against Urahara's chest, allowing him to scratch behind her ears. "You're playing a very dangerous game. You do realise that, don't you, Kisuke?"

"My dear Yoruichi," Urahara tutted, the condescending noise lost on neither of them as he shook his head. If he wasn't holding me I would have bet good money on him having pull out that ridiculous fan of his by now…the cat thought. "What other way is there to play?"

"Touché, Kisuke, touché…"

"…and it was just so totally awesome! Can you believe it?" Asano Keigo announced, waving his arms around frantically in a vain attempt to make his rather dull story seem much more dramatic than it really was. All it did in reality was make him look like a bigger fool than usual. "…Ichigooooo, are you even listening to me~?" he whined in that simpering tone of his, pouting like a five-year-old who'd just had a toy taken from them.

"Yeah. Awesome. Totally unbelievable." Ichigo grunted, his mind still stuck on his outburst that morning during breakfast. He'd have to apologize to Karin and Yuzu later for scaring them. They'd both looked so freaked out - and it was all because he couldn't control his own temper and was letting himself get riled up over seemingly hearing voices in his head.

Keigo just groaned in defeat, tears running comically down his checks like a faulty fountain as his shoulders sagged dejectedly. "Why does nobody ever want to listen to me when I have a story to tell…?" he whimpered. Life was so unfair to him. What had he ever done to deserve such ridiculous treatment?

"You say something, Keigo?" Ichigo asked. He shook his head as he finally came out of his daze only to find Keigo lying on the floor next to his feet curled up in the foetal position, rocking back and forth as he sucked his thumb like some giant baby. "…the hell?" the former Visored asked himself, utterly lost as to why his friend was crying on the floor.

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo grabbed the collar of his friend's jacket and hauled the overgrown child down the hallway to their classroom at the end. As if dealing with the old man wasn't bad enough… But after a few moments of hauling Keigo along, he finally reached classroom three-three. With a grateful grunt, he ripped the sliding door open and threw the other teen in headfirst; watching him crash to the floor and slide along it, face first, of course. Wincing slightly, Ichigo realised he'd probably overdone it and decided to take pity on the idiot and help him up.

Stepping into the classroom and making a beeline for Keigo so he could haul him to his feet, Ichigo heard an obviously fake cough come from the front of the room near the teacher's desk. Ah crap… Ichigo groaned inwardly, knowing that his already bad day was about to get ten times worse, and that was if he was lucky.

Keigo, unsurprisingly, sprang back to his feet with more vigour than should have been possible, dusting himself off as he muttered complaints under his breath about being unappreciated. In fact, he was so worked up in his own self-pity to realise the entire class was now staring at him and Ichigo.

"Pray tell, Kurosaki-san, but do you care to explain why you and Asano-san are both late this morning and you're throwing him around the school like a rag-doll?" Hanging his head, Ichigo turned on the spot to face the speaker. Shizumi Lila was the teacher who had taken over Ichigo's homeroom at the beginning of the semester due to the fact that their previous one had to go on maternity leave at the end of the previous school year.

Shizumi clicked her tongue impatiently as she stood before the blackboard, half-written scribbled notes decorating the surface behind her. Ichigo's lack of response prompted her brow to crinkle in frustration, her oval shaped glasses sliding down her nose as she frowned at her student with orange eyes over the top of her spectacles. She was a woman of average height, with platinum blond hair that reached her neck in length. Currently, she'd pulled it into a messy bun at the back of her head with a few messy strands hanging down over her face.

Shizumi herself was dressed in a rather plain white blouse, which just happened to be see-through, allowing everyone to easily see the rather lacy purple bra she wore beneath - and just for good measure she'd left the top few buttons undone to give the boys a look at her decent cleavage. In addition to her knee length skirt, with small triangular slits cut into the sides, she wore a large, purple belt with a gold buckle she wore slanted across her hips which seemed to serve no real purpose. Just how the hell does she get away with wearing this stuff?

She was the kind of women that knew that men, especially hormone driven young men, drooled over and she revealed in it. The definition of vanity. She had nearly all the boys in the class wrapped around her little finger and they loved it whenever she took five seconds to spare them any attention. Not Ichigo - he despised the woman. Well, she is out to get me. Or it seems like she is: she's not happy unless my school life is a living hell. Ichigo just stuffed his hands into his pockets and decided it was about time to face the music. I still don't get what she's got against me…

"Well, Kurosaki? I'm waiting…" Ichigo just glared at the woman. He honestly didn't care at this point. She's such a vindictive bitch. What had he ever done to her? Exist? Did he somehow piss her off in a previous life, her spirit still holding a grudge against him and no one got the memo to him about it? Apparently so…

But he knew he had to say something. So, shrugging his shoulders he opted for the truth. "Keigo was being a moron and it was either be later than we already were, or I drag him here. I went for the latter."

"So it would seem…" Shizumi pursed her lips, letting out an annoyed sigh. "Very well, you and Asano-san can make up for the time you've missed and time you've wasted just now in detention with me tomorrow after school." The woman made to turn back to the blackboard and continue her writing, but Ichigo just couldn't help himself.

"That's bullshit! I gotta work tomorrow!" he roared. He didn't care if this would only make things worse for him - it wasn't like they could get much worse to begin with at this stage. He was just tired of being the bitch's chew toy.

"That's not my problem, Kurosaki." The look Shizumi gave him made any retort die in his mouth. Ichigo could only close his mouth and bare his teeth as he felt the pressure of his homeroom teacher's unfaltering glare, neither even trying to mask their utter loathing for the other."Now close the door and get to your seat. I've honestly had enough of this. No back talk."

Ichigo just turned around to face the door, his teeth grinding against each other as he tried not to slam the door shut. It would do him no good at this point. He was convinced now that someone out there was out to get him. And it wasn't like he could go out and find some helpless Hollow to pound on until he felt the anger and stress drained away completely. Nope, now he was just stuck as an ordinary person and couldn't even see Hollows in the first place - much less beat the snot out of one.

Dragging his chair out from the desk at the back of the room, Ichigo dropped into it, aimlessly dropping his bag down alongside him. Resting his elbows on the desk, he buried his face in his hands as Shizumi rambled on about something to do with English - being an English teacher and all. But after a few minutes, he heard the classroom door slide open again, everyone bar him turning to see who had showed up.

"Sorry I'm late sensei. I'm-" Why does that voice sound familiar…? Ichigo thought, quirking an eyebrow behind his hands.

"Yes, yes. I was told you'd be returning to this class. Seeing as you're transferring back, I don't think introductions are necessary." Ichigo could hear a round of whispering run through the room. Clearly, whoever the transfer was, he wasn't the only one that recognised them. "Just take a seat so we can move on. The one next to Kurosaki is free." Said teen could only groan into his hands. Just what he needed, getting stuck with the transfer student.

But as the seconds dragged on, he heard the chair at the desk next to his get drawn out and someone sitting down in it. But then the newcomer spoke, and Ichigo's blood ran cold. "Hello, Ichigo, it's been a while." He knew that fake sweet, cheery voice! Even after all this time, it still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.

Lowering his hands away from his face, Ichigo looked to his right. And to his horror, his suspicions were confirmed. Sitting at the desk next to him, seemingly short as ever, was Kuchiki Rukia, dressed in the grey jacket and matching pleated skirt, with white blouse and smart red tie. Her raven-black hair was pulled into a ponytail that hung between her shoulders, with the same old strand hanging between her violet eyes.

"It's good to see you again. I hope you don't mind having to sit next to me again." She smiled at him, eyes twinkling and he knew she was enjoying every single minute of this. If it wasn't for everyone else present and Shizumi, she'd probably be laughing herself hoarse.

But if Rukia was here, then what the hell was going on? Well, at least this was a sure sign that normalcy was out the window. Good thing too, because in Ichigo's professional opinion, it was seriously overrated.

And there we have chapter número uno; not what everyone was expecting, I'm sure, and for that I apologize. Rest assured however things might not be very fast paced to begin with, but there is a lot of underlying detail in these first half a dozen chapters that might seem throwaway but will be very important further down the line. Nothing is as it seems, I promise you that.

Another note, the final arc of Bleach officially began this week, I'm kind of sad to be honest, but also excited for what's to come - given some of the details I've picked up from friends and other sources on this here interwebz it does sound like it could be a damn awesome final arc and the send off Bleach deserves.

Oh, something I probably should have cleared up last chapter: everything up until the end of the Arrancar saga is classed as canon within the versus of this story, however any elements introduced by Kubo himself during or after the Lost Representative arc may or may not be included at my discretion. I've already worked out massive amounts of details and theories for this story on my own months ago and all the fine details are final and are not open to change regardless of what Kubo does in the up coming arc. Please understand that this has story has been in the works for nearly two and half years and to wait and hope canon will clear up things now when I already worked out my own answer months ago would be counter productive on my part and most likely only screw with my overall plot. This does not mean things introduced in canon as we go along won't be included or ignored complete, I will include what I feel works for the story if it doesn't harm the overall plot of my own work or contradict something I've already done should the canon explanation come after I've already done my own take on the subject.

All I ask of you my readers is that you bare with me and I promise you, I will do my utmost to make sure this is the best damn story it can be can for your viewing pleasure.

Well, that's my part said, I'll see you all next time, on February 25th, with Return of the Dead, and remember, me love reviewers long time.

Dobi Boushi's blasting off again~!