Chapter One- The Girl in the Street

"GOOD MORNING ICHIGOOOOO!" The most irritating sound in the world was coming closer and closer.

Damn! Ichigo flipped out of his bed to avoid two feet from a potential landing on his face. With his permanent scowl of annoyance, he turned to face the culprit of the ruckus.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?" He yelled. With a swift kick to the stomach of someone he might as well deem his daily human alarm clock; he ignored the thundering impact as his father fell flat on his face one floor down in the flower bed. How he managed to miraculously survive each time, Ichigo did not know. He yawned lazily, ruffling his bedhead and ambled slowly to the bathroom to get ready for school.

"Good morning, Ichigo!" Yuzu chirped happily, carrying a tray of hot pancakes and setting them down on plates at the breakfast table where Karin sat, her legs swinging steadily under the table. Ichigo picked up a pancake and shoved it into his mouth, avoiding a scowl from Karin who had been reaching from that same one, and looked at the news on television.

"And once again the teenage boys were found unconscious in the back alleys of Karakura Town. Authorities are unsure as to whom the culprit is, but they have assured the public that they will find and capture him or her soon." The television displayed the image of a group of three boys lying on top of each other in a heap. Ichigo wasn't unnerved in the least; he could protect himself well enough to be unconcerned. He went to the door, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he trudged out.

The road to school was quite empty, with an occasional bustling street attached to it, but none that he had to go across. Ichigo hated crowds. No, that wouldn't be an accurate description. He detested them. And not the crowds, but the people. Guys picked fights with him because they thought he bleached his hair which implied through a strange series of logic that he was in fact a gangster of some sort. Bleached his hair. Ichigo wanted to laugh. This was his natural hair color, for god's sakes, so why couldn't people just leave him alone? He scowled at the road beneath him and almost missed the movement in his peripheral vision.

Ichigo couldn't remember what urged him to look; he wouldn't have on a normal basis, but something was out of the ordinary here. He looked to see a deserted back street where five ungainly boys were invading what could be called the personal space of a teenage girl about Ichigo's age. They were getting close; too close, with uncomforting leering grins and freak show expressions. But what surprised him most about the situation was that the girl did not look in the least bit afraid. In fact, she looked almost annoyed. She was unusually small with raven black hair, almost two heads shorter than Ichigo and of a delicate build, but Ichigo knew better than anyone never to judge someone by their looks. One of the boys put a hand on her shoulder, his face drawing closer to hers as he whispered something in her ear. Ichigo couldn't stand it any longer. He needed to do something before things got out of hand. He took one step towards the group, and then stopped in his tracks as a most bizarre turn of events took place.

One moment the girl was sighing irritably in the middle of a group of boys and then she was suddenly above them, using the boy's shoulders as an anchor to launch herself over his head in one swift motion, bringing down the full weight of her leg right onto the back of his head. He swayed slightly and then fell, his face kissing the ground. The rest of the boys stared at the girl in shock, who was indifferently dusting invisible linen off her skirt.

"You know, I really hate boys like you," She grinned devilishly. The boys charged at her. She deftly ducked a first blow, swiping her legs under the boy, causing him to flip over and hit the ground, clutching at his head. The second boy jumped at her and she dodged to the side and he skid across the pavement, turning to face her. She kicked the boy on the ground in the head and turned just in time to knock the living daylights out of the other with one quick punch. The last two boys of the bunch had retreated and were staring at her in shock. One yelled wordlessly and ran at her and the other quickly followed suit. She smiled as they sprinted at her. She actually smiled. Ichigo watched with a mild sense of admiration as with a spinning kick to the face the first one flew back into the next one and his companion had to scramble out from underneath him. He hobbled towards her stupidly, and she aimed a swift kick to his groin. He fell and gasped in pain and from a lack of air, holding his privates and making faint choking noises.

Ichigo was surprised at the last part; it was almost childish of her, like she was having fun with them. But one look to her face, and a different story was told. She looked irritated, angry, and perhaps even frustrated. She kicked the last boy in the stomach, and he wheezed, unable to account for another place to hold onto in pain. She booted his face, putting him out of his misery. With one final glance at the group of unconscious boys lying on the ground, she walked away from the scene smoothly. Ichigo could only stare at the scene that had just unfolded before him. How could a girl so small take out an entire group of five large boys?

Puzzled, he walked away slowly away from the scene, taking a look at his watch. He swore as he realized he had been severely delayed by the commotion, and sprinted the rest of the way to school.

Ichigo stepped through the front door of his house with his eyes closed, fatigued from the mundane drudgery otherwise known as school, and met a much unappreciated kick to the face from his father. He flew against the wall and slid down to the floor, clutching his head in pain and gritting his teeth.

"Why so forlorn, my dear boy? Never fear, daddy's here! Give me some love!" Isshin stood with his arms open wide and a large idiotic grin spread across his face. Ichigo got up, rubbing the back of his head and turned his attention to his wide-eyed younger sister.

"Yuzu, I'm not hungry. Put my food in the fridge. I'll have it later," Ichigo trudged up the stairs, ignoring his father's wails. His family stared after him until he disappeared into his room.

"What's up with him?" Isshin demanded to know.

"Well, he's been having problems at school lately. The teacher has been picking on him because of his hair." Karin explained.

"What? How do you know what daddy doesn't?" Isshin cried. "When will Ichigo ever learn to tell me anything?" He pounded on the wall in grief.

"Maybe when you grow up," came Karin's cynical reply as she sauntered off.

Ichigo threw his bag on the floor and fell onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had a rough day in school, with his teachers picking on him. He had already been doing his best to try and make him see he wasn't the delinquent he was made out to be. He studied hard, scored well on his tests, offered to help the teachers bring books to the staff room or stay on for extra cleaning duty since he started high school, but it didn't seem to change anything. Why did people have to judge him just because he looked like he would cause trouble? Why did his hair colour have to stand out? He would never dye it, it was a part of him and he didn't see why he had to change it for the sake of other people. Still, they really were a pain in the ass.

Ichigo looked out the window at the night sky… and a swallowtail butterfly. Ichigo jumped up from his bed and ran to the window, just in time to watch it flit out of sight. He hadn't seen one of those for a long time. He was about to return back to his bed when something caught his eye. Was that a black shoe dangling from the roof above his window? He craned his neck out the window to see the sole of the shoe disappear from sight.

What on earth?