We're back to our Sunday meeting. Another short update – really sorry. The idea just wouldn't leave me alone until I added it.

I can't believe this story has got 100 reviews – and not even a flame! I'm so happy I could burst!

Thank you, people. Thank you very much for all your kind words, it meant a lot to me! I never got so many reviews over one story – I'm really grateful to all people who went out to leave their comments and especially to the regular reviewers. Thank you. Thank you very much.

But now, enough blabbering….

XVI: COLORS

Author's note: I've arbitrary christened Chizuru as "Sayuri" – only a little pun. If somebody actually knows her name, please let me know and I'll correct it.

One month and two weeks ago

Arisawa Tatsuki was fairly plain – and she was well aware of that.

She didn't particularly care about physical appearance, either.

However, it was a fact that around her revolved a world of unique people. Everybody she knew had a distinctive trait that made him or her stand out – everybody carried a distinctive color. Sado-kun with his flashy shirts, Ishida with his obsession on blue-and-white, Rukia with her blue-violet eyes, Orihime's light brown hair that had caused so much distress in the past – not to mention Ichigo's unique and unbelievably natural hair color.

Then, of course, there were the red-heads – Chizuru and Abarai.

Red had been a long-time constant in Tatsuki's life.

It was pretty rare as hair color – especially in Japan – yet she had met a lot of red-headed people. With each and every single one of them she had built a very strong relationship: either she adored them or she loathed them.

Her first sensei at the dojo, Mizuno Ninsei, had been a red-head. She greatly admired the older man and still went to visit him every once in a while.

She also remembered fondly Urameshi Natsumi – they had been classmates at the local elementary school, until Natsumi's family had moved to the States. Now they were pen-pals. She had recently received a photo of her old classmates: her red hair still looked like a sunset.

Furukawa Tomiko wasn't such a good memory: she had been one of Orihime's tormentors. The two of them never missed an opportunity to insult each other.

Neither had Isozaki Arata – the boy who used to live near her grandmother's.

These were only the main examples: she certainly didn't have time to recall all of them – the stern woman from the bakery, that nice girl she had met at the finals, the boy she had danced with at Kunieda's birthday party two years before and so on.

Yes, red had always fitted into Tatsuki's life – in one way or the other.

She had long since concluded that red-heads weren't normal.

Slowly, she turned to glance at the two red-haired people that now occupied her life.

Chizuru Sayuri and Abarai Renji.

She had no doubts about Chizuru – she was definitely going on the "People With Red Hair I Despise" list. The girl was absolutely exasperating.

Renji, on the other hand…Renji was pretty difficult to pinpoint.

Tatsuki sneaked a glance at him.

Yes, definitely more difficult. But that was just the way he was – Renji would never fit in any stereotype of sorts.

Another fleeting look stolen out of the corner of her eyes.

She really couldn't tell where she should place him.

Or so Tatsuki said to herself, ignoring the small voice in her head that insistently stated otherwise.

Author's note:
Red-heads of the whole world please don't feel insulted. My mother has got red hair and I certainly haven't anything against her – in fact, I wish I had hair like hers…
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