Author's Note: It's been a while, hasn't it? That's because I wanted to have the entire story's first draft (and some amount of revisions and rewrites) all done before I started to update. Which means this story is 'finished', and just needs work before each chapter is posted. Yay!

I can't promise quick or consistent updates, but updates will be coming much quicker than they were before. There's that, at least!

That said, I hope you enjoy- it's going to be an interesting ride. :)

The second day of classes brought with it the wonderful knowledge that summer break was closer than it was before- by exactly one day.

Rukia clung to that fact with whatever willpower she had at five-thirty in the morning,

She blearily smashed a hand on her rabbit-shaped alarm clock to silence it. It would take some time to get used to going to classes once again. With a final lament at leaving the comfort of her bed, she rose for the day.

Fighting the last vestiges of sleep, she made her way into the spare bedroom-turned-home gym. A large mirror covered most of one wall. Workout mats covered most of the wooden floor. A punching bag hung in one corner, with pieces of tape left up from the various pictures that had been hung there over time. The people featured there changed depending on her mood. A pile of past targets was kept nearby, giving her a handful of options at any time. Usually villains from dramas or obnoxious video games characters.

It wasn't as if anyone else would ever see it. Not really, anyway. Miss Okabe didn't care about Rukia's private life when she did her tidying up, and Mr. Minamoto didn't enter that part of the house. In fact, no one else ever entered the building.

Rukia took a deep breath, starting with her warmup stretches and exercises. Then she slid into a fighting-ready stance, weight on the balls of her feet, nimbly moving about with her fists raised. Punch! Punch! With her shoulder and arm, not just the hand. She switched to the other side, then shifted between techniques and movements smoothly and rapidly. It was a mixture of Krav Maga and other select elements of martial arts, courtesy of her classes over the past years.

Of course, the fights she had as a young orphan also helped.

She spun on her heel, kept her fists up by her face against a phantom opponent. She dodged, turned, practiced a move that involved elbowing an attacker; then mimicked disarming a knife out of someone's grasp with a snake-like twist of her hand.

Twenty minutes later, she was panting from the effort with beads of sweat on her brow. After she showered, toweled off, and brushed her teeth, she entered her large walk-in closet.

On each side of the closet were long racks of clothes, from two separate worlds, practically two separate people.

The right side was an assortment so colorful it would have made My Little Pony look bland by comparison. It was filled with pastel shades- jewel tones, mostly- accented with whites and other shades in soft cottons and cheap flannels. There were loose hoodies with rabbit ears attached to the hoods, pink t-shirts, light yellow dresses, and everything in-between.

On the other side, all color had been banished. It resembled a 1940s film. The color was drained in favor of whites, greys, and blacks. Everything had crisp edges that were expertly ironed or steamed by her housekeeper. Pleated skirts, of modest lengths; necklines that went no lower than the collarbone. Silks and flowing chiffons which billowed gently as one walked. Each and every one of them with a label of some name or brand, most of them foreign. Although she didn't know the difference between any of them. She only knew they were expensive.

Rukia looked again to her right, her gaze lingering there despite how foolish it felt. She allowed herself to indulge in the view, in the many bright shades- before turning to the other side and plucking out a dull white shirt and long gray skirt. That skirt was more fanciful than the others, she thought sarcastically- it had a black trim design along the bottom.

Once dressed and ready, she quickly ate the breakfast left on the table by Miss Okabe and made her way to the garage. Mr. Minamoto was waiting by the car.

"Good morning, Miss Kuchiki," he said with a partial bow, as a semi-elderly person was wont to do. "Ready for another day?"

"Good morning, Mr. Minamoto. I believe so." She climbed into the back seat.

As they drove away, Rukia began reviewing her schedule on her phone, this time looking at class locations and checking them on a map. The first day had gone well- barring the overly opinionated professor of her last class of the day- but nothing truly out of the ordinary. Minamoto dropped her off slightly off-campus as usual, and she started the day in earnest.

She went to class, listened to explanations for what to expect for the semester, then moved on. Then, she did it again, and again. The day was uninteresting, predictable, and entirely normal in every way.

That was, until she reached her literature class.

"I realize it's the first day," the professor said with an apologetic smile, the kind that told students to brace themselves for the loss of free time, parties put in jeopardy, and sleep deprivation. "But I have an assignment I'd like to give out. It's a partnered assignment with something due each week." His smile didn't waver in the least.

A not-subtle wave of groans passed through the lecture hall. Rukia resisted the urge to close her eyes and sigh in frustration. Instead, she carefully kept her expression calm, focused.

The idea was repellant. The very thought was rejected in her mind outright. Maybe there was a way to avoid it- she could do it on her own, perhaps. It would take extra time and effort, undoubtedly, but it would be worth the peace of mind of being partner-free. Free of having to mind what she said. Not worrying about drawing too much attention or forming rumors.

It was more than troublesome. If she could talk to the professor and explain her situation-

"Working with a partner is absolutely mandatory," he said. "Working alone will result in a failing grade, which will make passing this course impossible. There are milestones due from each of you every week. So, I do hope you'll work together." The man smiled again, and Rukia doubted it was genuine.

Dammit.

"You must have your partners selected before the start of next class. If needed, please contact me for assistance," the professor said, still smiling. "That is all."

The class was suddenly a wild free-for-all as students roved and claimed one another. The brainiacs went first. Then, the charismatic hard workers who coasted on their people skills and flexibility. The most attractive students were snatched up after that, because at least if someone wasn't going to share the work evenly, their partners were allowed someone pretty to look at. Finally, the leftovers searched the lecture hall for one another. They darted between rows, bobbing their heads for a better look.

All of this happened within the span of a minute.

Ichigo blinked. He'd been sitting in the back of the room, got distracted by the information and due dates on the overhead screen- and it was practically over already.

"What?!" he breathed, eyes darting around for someone- anyone- who looked like a semi-decent person.

There was a gap on the other end of the row; an almost bubble of students giving a wide berth to a small woman in the center of it. Like insects avoiding an area out of instinctual self-preservation. He thought it was weird. She looked harmless enough, especially how small she was-

Recognition struck. She was the girl from yesterday, the one with the annoying voice and lack of self-respect for herself. But that wasn't any kind of reason to avoid someone so pointedly. There had to have been something else going on. She looked pretty enough, he supposed. Clean and well-dressed (enough even for Ichigo to notice), and someone he'd expect desperate guys to try and pair up with. Even if her personality left a lot to be desired.

"Hey," he said, nudging the random guy next to him who was already chatting with his partner. "Uh. Who's that over there?"

The man made a scoffing sound and shook his head, which made Ichigo even more confused. "You don't know Rukia Kuchiki?" the man asked, his brows raised in disbelief.

"No, I just transferred in," Ichigo said, making a note to stay calm.

From the man's voice, It sounded like he was talking about some mythical creature instead of some girl.

"What's the deal with her? How come she doesn't have a partner?" Ichigo asked despite himself. Maybe she had a boyfriend who everyone feared, and they all knew she would be paired up with him. Someone like would probably have a boyfriend.

"That's the sister of Byakuya Kuchiki, CEO of the Kuchiki Corporation," the man said with a shrug. "Brother's loaded! But she keeps to herself. Everyone knows about her, though. It'd be a pain to get involved with her because of all that. If we've got one celebrity on campus, she's it. Well, next to that fashion internet guy."

Ichigo looked again across the room. The woman was frowning, glancing about and obviously in need of a partner. From that distance, she seemed normal enough. He didn't know much about celebrities or rich people, but it certainly wasn't what he would expect. Not as frustration-inducing as yesterday, and part of him even felt sorry for her.

But then he saw a man fighting against the crowded rows, making a beeline for her. A certain man from yesterday that nearly broke Ichigo's 'no fighting' streak.

Rukia quickly scanned every single person within her immediate area, seeking out any of the tell-tale signs of looking for a partner. Perhaps she would be lucky, she thought, and there would be an odd number of students in the class. She'd be left on her own to do the assignment. Just as she wanted in the first place.

She started to pack up her laptop into her bag when a shadow formed over her, a shape blocking the overhead fluorescent lights. "Hey."

It was a man's voice, somewhat familiar. Looking up she found the man from yesterday- not the annoying savior one, but the first greasy one who started bothering her in the first place. He still wore an oily smirk that made her clench a fist reflexively. "I'm Taji Yoshinaga. We met the other day, remember?"

Rukia reminded herself to be a Respectable Japanese Woman.

"Ah… Yes," she said politely, fighting the growing sense of dread. Hoping that he was asking for the time because he lost his phone, perhaps. "Can I help you?"

The man leaned forward with an arm placed on the desk, all but towering over her. "Looking for a partner, right?"

Reflexively she shifted backwards a step to add space between them. Her carefully placed smile twitched. "Ah… I'm-"

"She already has a partner," Ichigo said from behind, drawing both their shocked stares.

"She does?" Taji asked.

"I do?" she asked absently.

"Yeah," Ichigo said with a resolute glare at the other man. "Leave her alone, okay?"

Rukia was torn between being thankful or indignant that he assumed her to be helpless, that he needed to rescue her in the first place.

"Yes… That's right," she said with extra helpings of forlorn regret, clutching a hand to her bosom, smiling sadly at Taji. "I'm sorry… But I already have a partner…!"

Taji winced in confusion. "What, this guy? Aw, man…! Shit." He shook his head and sneered at Ichigo as he stomped away.

Seeing him truly up close, Rukia noted several things about the mysterious man who brought it upon himself to 'save' her. He had a strong, chiseled jaw, which seemed to match his tanned skin. Cleanly shaved face. He was lean but not in a weak way. Hints of muscle could be seen in his broad shoulders and under his fitted long-sleeve shirt. Strong arms were hinted at his wrists, just where his sleeves had risen slightly.

It was another moment- at least two moments, really- before she remembered the situation at hand. And noticed that his outfit- while fitted and accented with a studded belt at the waist- were less than ideal shades of blue and light green.

"Ah…" she started, forcibly clearing her mind as well as her throat. She mustered a bubbly tone. "Thank you! That's very kind of you to lie for me. However, I must be going, now." She grabbed her bag with precision and made to exit the row down the opposite end.

"H-hey. wait!"

She froze, her scowl hidden with her back turned to him. A cheery smile was on her face when she turned around. "It's alright, really… Although I thank you for your kindness!" She even curtseyed for good measure.

"Don't you need a partner? He said everyone has to have a partner, otherwise you can't do the assignment," he said.

She paused in thought. Deep, deep thought. She weighed the cost of failing the class and graduating late against working with him for a few weeks. Wondering how much it would bring down her grade average.

She continued mulling it over for several moments. Torn.

"…Yes, that's right," she finally said with a smile. Defeat and resignation coursed through her; the idea no longer entertained. "Ah, how silly of me!" She gave a brief giggle, raising a dainty hand to her mouth. "Of course, we could always tell the professor we worked together, even if one person was responsible for the work."

Ichigo only could take the cheery, bubbly way she spoke for so long. Five seconds was apparently his limit. His familiar scowl started to creep into his expression. It took him a second to separate her shallow tone of voice from the dubious idea she suggested. "Just one of us, huh? And which one would do the work?"

"Why, it would be you, of course. I'm afraid I'm not very good at these sorts of things… I always get so nervous, especially if someone is depending on me…" she shook her head, now forlorn, looking down at the ground as if in shame. Ichigo's eyebrow twitched. He was going to tell her to get lost with that kind of bull, that there was no way in hell he'd let her take advantage of him like that, her confidence issues be damned, her wimpy attitude no excuse. She'd have to deal with it so they could get the work done. He didn't come all that way to risk a failing grade over something so petty.

But Ichigo didn't do any of those things, because he remembered they were in a still half-crowded lecture hall of other students. And there were people all around them, and the professor standing down at the front.

So he took a breath- discreetly, he hoped- and put extra care into his words, just slightly tinged with annoyance instead of overflowing with it. "I'm sorry, but that's not how this will work. We can work on it together. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"If you're sure… I wouldn't want to mess anything up," Rukia said timidly.

"I'm not- Stop saying things like that! You need to stand up for yourself instead of just getting pushed around. Like that guy, yesterday."

Her voice remained solemn, her eyes downcast. "I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to offend you. I was only trying to be a good partner." Her lip quivered, just briefly, her voice soft and almost pained.

"Don't-" he made a frustrated sound. "I didn't mean it that way, just calm down!"

"I didn't mean to insult you, or your ability to work on the project," she continued, eyes downcast. "I just thought… You looked so capable and smart, and so certain of yourself, I thought you would have no trouble with the assignment…" She gave a brief, dainty shake of her head. "I didn't realize you were so worried. If it's beyond your skills…"

"I- What? Wait- No! I didn't say that." He let out a grunt in frustration and raked a hand through his hair. "I didn't say that. I can do it, okay? I'm good with books and things like this."

"Oh, so you'll do it after all?" The sorrow drained rather quickly from her voice, her expression clearing to hope and joy, and something else that Ichigo couldn't quite grasp. It gave him a suspicious feeling. "I'm glad- You had me worried, for a moment! It sounds like you have it all under control," she said with an airy sweetness. With a deft bow she smiled while readjusting her thin leather backpack straps. "I'm confident in your skills!"

Ichigo blinked. "Hey, wait-"

But she was already halfway down the row, in the aisle, and on her way out of the classroom. Her smile never wavered for a second. Rukia gave a graceful wave. "Thank you! Have a nice day!"

Ichigo recovered in time to make it two steps forward. By then, she disappeared out the classroom door, lost to the crowded hallways and the maze of campus. He stood there, dumbfounded at what had happened, and trying to understand how it did.

She didn't even know his name. Maybe she was really that vapid and self-conscious that she forgot to ask.

But he could have sworn, for the briefest of moments, that her smile had turned to a smirk.