A/N: If you liked the prologue and moved to the next chapter, welcome, and I hope you enjoy it. :)

-Kieran

Chapter One:

Five years ago. . .

It was anything but love at first sight. Their first meeting would actually lead to an array of choice words, and one of them walking away with a bloody nose hidden under the convenient black of their shirt. We're not quite there yet, so that situation will have to be put on hold for now.

Their story begins with one Ichigo Kurosaki, ready to begin putting his degree to use after having spent the last year gaining experience to better prepare himself for the tough road ahead. He knew from the word go that this line of work was not going to be easy. Nevertheless, it's been something that he's been rather passionate about from a young age, as ironic as that may be, considering his line of work will include helping fully grown adults restart their education, and start working towards actually making a career for themselves. Ichigo understands that a lot of these men and women lacked the drive during their schooling years, and therefore decided that picking up odd jobs and earning money had been a more rewarding venture for them at the time. Ichigo wants to encourage them to realise their own potential, and see that schooling really isn't all that bad. Granted, it can be boring at times, but it's more than worth it in the end when you achieve something that you, yourself, hadn't even realised that you were longing for.

As soon as he deemed himself fit to really start making a difference, the orange haired man utilised the skills of one of his friends, Toshiro Hisugaya, and within a week, he had a website up and running for his private tutoring business. Toshiro had done wonders with the template, and Ichigo had been extremely pleased with the results, internally thrilled that the short man had owed him a favour that he had finally cashed in on. On top of that, a few others assisted him in the grunt work of making the rounds around town to request permission to put up fliers detailing his business venture, which he had been more than appreciative of, taking them on a night out–all expenses paid–, and if their hangovers were anything to go by the next morning, it must have been good.

Not that he remembers any of it, which is probably for the best.

Everything leading up to this moment will all be worth it if he can at least make a difference in one of his client's lives. Speaking of which, last week he received his first email from a twenty-six-year-old woman requesting his tutelage. Despite one Renji Abari teasing him that she might just be looking for sex, Ichigo replied back in earnest agreeing to help her, and they set up a consultation for the following week. Ichigo had told the woman that the initial meeting would be to work out exactly what it is that she aspires to do, how much time she has throughout the week to work on said goal, and any and all limitations that Ichigo might need to know about in order to make this as comfortable for her as possible.

And, yes, Renji also had something to say about that. More than something, actually. Ichigo gifted the man with a sharp jab to his side, and he soon scampered off, moaning about how he was overreacting, and blah blah blah.

Now, Ichigo finds himself standing outside a rather. . . generous house, that he could never hope to afford on the money that he's going to make off a job like this. Unless he starts getting requests from the rich and famous, that is. Still, Ichigo made his peace with that when he first decided that this is what he wanted to do in life, so he has no regrets.

Sucking in a breath to still his nerves, Ichigo presses the buzzer situated below a speaking device on a protruding piece of wall next to the stark white gates barring his entrance to the house. When ten seconds pass without an answer, Ichigo repeats himself, slightly worried that this has all been a hoax, and he's about a minute from being met with vicious guard dogs that may or may not succeed in provoking him to make a mess of his new jeans. God, he hopes not.

That would be all too embarrassing.

The thought is shoved aside for him when a soft voice speaks through the receiver, letting him know that she'll open the gates for him, and that she's sorry that the house itself isn't closer. Ichigo assures her that he doesn't mind the walk, taking a step back to appraise the gates granting him access to the beautiful walkway before he begins the long trek up to the front doors. As he walks at a leisurely pace, he admires the foliage–hedges lined up one by one, scattered with an assortment of flowers, tinted with a collection of pink shades that really give it a nice contrast to the green surrounding them. The path is wide enough that a car can fit through it, giving Ichigo the impression that he's more than likely going to be greeted with a few nice models when he reaches the garage portion of this wonderland he finds himself in.

If he's being rather frank here, this woman has done very well for herself, considering her lack of education. A small voice in his head nags at him that it's perhaps possible that Renji may have been right about this, even if he had just been facetious–Ichigo chastises himself. It's not right to judge someone when he knows nothing about them, so he's not going to. For all he knows, her parents may have been wealthy and passed this property down to her or something like that. Yeah, there's no need to assume that he's going to be greeted by some lady in scantily clad clothing, holding some version of a cocktail and just waiting to seduce him or whatever.

That's what happens in films, not reality, he tells himself quite vehemently as he passes the final curve of this monstrously long walkway, drowning out the sound of his heightened heart rate to focus on the purity of the passing wind instead.

Before he has a chance to knock, symmetrical smokey grey double doors start to turn inward, and a stunningly beautiful lady peaks her head through the door, looking all too shy for someone with her attributes. She scans him from head to toe slyly, clearly making sure that he resembles the man displayed on the website. Ichigo is positive that it's not often you'll meet anyone with the same shade of orange that takes up residence on top of his head, and he's non-plussed when she quickly finishes with her analysis of his features, nodding unconsciously to herself.

"You must be Mr. Kurosaki," the lady clarifies, opening the door that little bit more. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Nel."

Ichigo extends a hand rather awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck out of habit with the other. "The pleasure is mine," he declares, a red tint gracing his already sun-kissed features. "And, please, call me Ichigo."

Nel smiles as though she prefers that idea, taking the offered hand and giving it an enthusiastic shake. She steps back in way of allowing him access to the house, which he accepts with a nod of thanks, giving the entryway a once over. He immediately spots a pair of shoes that wouldn't fit Nel's feet in this lifetime, which tells him that she doesn't live alone. Not that he has any plans to ask her about her personal life. As long as it doesn't impact her schooling, none of that will ever be any of his business.

"Would you like a drink before we get started?" Nel inquires, leading him into an intricately designed living room, accented with framed artwork, all inhabiting the same dark themes. Nel must notice him staring because she laughs nervously. "Sorry, my Brother painted those. I know they look a little disturbing, but it's his work, and I love it," she says unapologetically, offering Ichigo a seat on the platinum grey corner sofa, which he accepts gratefully, prying his eyes away from the highly captivating works of art to pull the strap of his laptop bag over his head, and set it down on the glass coffee table centering the room.

"You have a very beautiful house, Nel. It's, uh, incredible," Ichigo compliments her, unzipping the out-of-its-depth-in-a-place-like-this-bag, to take out his equally outshined laptop and place it atop the accompanying case.

"Thank you. I just make it look pretty. My brother keeps it on the ground," she replies with a giggle, shifting to make herself more comfortable. "That's actually what I would like to do–Um, interior design, I mean."

Ichigo smiles at that. "I'm glad that you already have something in mind. That's going to make this part a lot easier on me," he jokes nervously, allowing himself to sink into the memory foam of the sofa. "And, from what I'm seeing right now, I don't think that's going to be hard for you at all," he adds, flipping the lid open to bring up his Notepad application.

Nel flicks her hair out of her face, smiling.

"Thanks. You're not the first to compliment me, but I don't think I can just take pictures of my house, send them in, and suddenly I'm an interior designer, you know?"

Ichigo nods.

"You're right about that, but it's not going to hurt you, either," he assures her, making a note of what's already been said before turning his head to offer her his full attention. "As I said to you in the email, this is just to work out how much time you have, and what you might need to make this easier for you."

"That makes sense. I'm pretty much free always. My Brother is the one that works and puts money in to the house, and I, um. . ." Nel pauses, her head lowering, shoulders slumped in defeat. "I don't really have any friends."

Ichigo closes his eyes empathetically, wondering how a lovely lady like Nel could really be so alone in this world. Again, it's not his place to judge or ask questions that would clearly isolate her, so he chooses not to pry. It's also important that he remains professional here. . . Still, she's clearly someone who wears their heart on their sleeve, and Ichigo can't help but resonate with that.

"Well, I can't make any promises, but for now, we can be friends," he says simply, cursing himself out inwardly for sounding like such a nerd. "I mean, we're going to be seeing each other a lot for the near future–if you choose to accept my services, of course–

Out of nowhere, the young lady pounces across the sofa and snares him in a bone-crushing hug, breasts almost the size of bowling balls attempting to cut off any and all oxygen that he could wish to secure. She starts thanking him over and over again, expressing that she'll be the best friend that he's ever had, that she'll do her very best to make him proud–that he won't regret this at all, even if he kind of is now as he struggles to hold on to a life that might end all too soon if she doesn't give him room to breathe.

When his shoulders begin to deflate, Nel maneuvers him to arm's length, an expression of avid worry on her face and endless apologies in her eyes.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry, Ichigo. Are you okay? I'm such an idiot–I just got a little excited, please speak to me!" Nel exclaims, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll.

"Ne-Nel, I-I'm fi-fine," Ichigo manages to clip out, feeling nauseated as the room switches from one side to the other in a staggering motion.

"Oh, good," Nel proclaims, genuinely pleased with that as she stops her vigorous shaking, still holding him in place. "I'll try not to do that in the future–I'm, um, not really used to giving hugs and stuff."

Ichigo shakes his head slightly to clear the haze surrounding his eyes, offering a warm smile. "It's okay. Just, try not to kill me next time, okay?" he requests, laughing despite himself.

Nel returns the smile in earnest. "It's a deal."

With that aside, Ichigo and Nel spend the next hour working out dates that they can get together to work on this. Ichigo apologises that he doesn't actually have any experience in interior design himself, and therefore probably won't be the best reference moving forward into that type of career. He can, however, help her with her other subjects that are going to look good on her resume, which she's going to need to even get her foot in the door. Nel discloses to him that the reason for her lack of education is due to the non-existent funds when she and her brother were growing up, having lost their parents in an act of gun violence when they were very young. She went on to explain that her Brother looked after the both of them the best that he could, considering their circumstances, taking any and all employment opportunities that he could to keep them fed and watered, eventually making his mark on the world as a successful artist/art dealer.

A look of unabashed pride frames her face as she talks about her Brother finishing his first art piece, how he hadn't been sure about it from the beginning, and how Nel had encouraged him to sell it. She admitted that it had been disturbing, but there had also been something so unique and enriching about it that she felt the rest of the world deserved to know of its existence. When she takes a breath, her hand extends to wave in the general direction of the painting she's referring to, admitting that when her Brother started making a name for himself, she asked him if they could have his first painting hung up in their house as a memento, and he agreed.

"Your Brother is very talented," Ichigo admits, wondering just what could have inspired such a chilling display of brush strokes. "Art class in school was one of my worst subjects, so I can't help but be envious."

"If we're being honest here, it's the one thing that he's actually modest about," Nel says, a fond smile curving her thin lips, clearly lost in a memory. "He's good looking and he knows it, he's smart, funny, strong–he'll boast about all of that, but when it comes to his art, he seems unsure of himself. It's adorable, really."

Ichigo deduces that Nel and her Brother must be very close, what with the past that they've had and what they endured together, it's perfectly understandable. There's not a thing that Ichigo wouldn't do for his little sisters, so he can relate. Although they've never been without money, he was encouraged to start gaining his independence as soon as he had been old enough to work for a living by his overly dramatic Father, who he supposes he should thank, despite the man's odd ways of doing so.

Nel suddenly slaps a hand to her forehead, shaking her head shamefully.

"I'm so sorry, Ichigo–I offered you a drink earlier, and didn't even make you one," she reprimands herself, rising to her feet to start heading off in the assumed direction of the kitchen. Ichigo notices for the first time that she's wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt. She's really not like anyone he would expect to be in a house like this. "What would you like? There's a lot of choices, so anything you want, we probably have."

Ichigo bites back a grin at her does-that-make-me-sound-like-a-snob look, saving the page on his screen with their detailed plan. "Just some juice, please."

Tipping her head forward in affirmation, Nel ducks around the corner to complete her task, leaving Ichigo temporarily alone in a room he doesn't at all belong in. He clears his throat, leaning his head back against the sofa since he can afford to relax for a minute. The temptation to appraise the artwork again is far stronger than he wishes for it to be, but he silences it. He would hate for Nel to think he would admire it for any other reason than because he genuinely finds it fascinating. Earlier, he got the sense that she's very protective of her Brother, and Ichigo doesn't plan on stepping on any toes, not since his near death experience by the will of Nel's breasts.

Regardless of that, Ichigo is very much looking forward to getting started. He has no doubt that Nel is going to be a breath of fresh air to teach, and her willingness to learn is apparent from head to toe, so he has no anxieties where that is concerned. He's very fortunate his first client is as malleable as Nel is, actually. He thought the first few were going to be really difficult to connect with, and get them seeing what they can do with their life if they just try. Sure, it's possible that they might have some ups and downs along the way–still, he's confident that Nel will be his first success story, and most of that will be due to her own determination and grit.

Now that he mulls it over in his head, Ichigo wonders why Nel even wants to do this, when there's clearly no need to. Maybe she's just looking to be more independent? Relying on someone else can eat away at your own perception of yourself, so Ichigo supposes it makes sense that she would look for a way to be able to support herself, even if everything is quite adamantly covered on that front. He finds it admirable, actually. Not many in her position would choose to work if they didn't have to. Renji would jump at a chance to quit his job performing M. , even if he does have a passion for cars. Rukia would certainly stop being a reporter, as she would have more time to hang out with her friends and make some good memories. Ichigo really feels for her when she tells him she's flying out to some nondescript location to do a three-minute take on the current happenings that are deemed news-worthy, silently blessed when she messages him that she's on her way home. His group of friends can't help but worry about her when she travels from place to place, especially the ones that are known for their high death count.

Shuddering at the thought of it, Ichigo rights himself on the sofa, rubbing the small amount of lethargy from his eyes, reminding himself that he's here for a reason, and that he needs to be on full alert to ensure the complete satisfaction of his client. That voice from earlier that sounds suspiciously like a certain redhead he knows all too well flits back into his subconscious for a second, but he ignores it. He knows what he meant, and even if he happened to be in that line of work, she wouldn't meet the requirements of his client list.

Just as he's about to start contemplating what he's going to cook for dinner tonight, Nel appears at the door, holding a tall glass of juice, chilled by the cubes of ice performing a rhythmic dance in the orange-tinted water.

"I wasn't sure what juice you wanted, so I went with, well–you can probably tell," Nel says, placing the glass down on a coaster atop the coffee table.

Ichigo nods his thanks. "That's fine, thank you very much," he assures her, taking a sip quickly before settling back in on the sofa. "I guess the only thing we have left to go over now is where you'd like to do this. I'm sure that your Brother likes his privacy, and I'd hate to be a burden–"

"Ichigo, have you seen the size of this house?" Nel cuts him off, chortling to herself. "My Brother has all the privacy that he needs. But, if you'd rather we meet somewhere more public, I'm okay with that."

"I don't know why, but I kind of feel like I have to ask his permission," Ichigo admits, hating the blush that taints his cheeks. "It's his house, after all, and to my understanding, his money."

Nel slaps his arm playfully. Well, she thinks it's playfully, but it actually has Ichigo forcing himself not to rub it to soothe the pain.

"My Brother doesn't know about this, that's true, but I didn't want to say anything until there was actually something to say, you know?"

Ichigo nods his understanding. "I get that," he adds for clarity.

"Also, um," Nel begins, seeming unsure of herself. "Once we're done with the lesson, maybe we could, um. . . Hang out?"

It's asked with so much hope that Ichigo's heart nearly breaks for her. He has the sinking suspicion that he's going to find it incredibly difficult to deny this lady much when she makes a face like that which she's making now.

"Sure, we can do that."

Nel squeals and leans in to give him what he assumes to be another air-constricting hug, and is pleasantly surprised by how stripped back it is. Nel muffles into his shoulder that she's a fast learner, expressing her deepest gratitude, once again provoking him to ponder as to how she could possibly have no friends.

When a door opens in the background, they both move away from each other, as if they were about to be caught doing something scandalous. Nel jumps off the sofa and runs toward the sound, looking to all the world like Christmas just came early. Ichigo finds himself smiling fondly at that, casting his eyes over to the oncoming spectacle as a man who could quite easily have been designed in the image of Greek Gods themselves shrugs out of a perfectly fitted suit jacket, allowing Nel to take it from him as he kicks his shoes off and makes to continue further in when his eyes land on Ichigo's.

There's a stillness between them as they silently appraise each other. Ichigo can't seem to find the words to speak, due to the man before his eyes being so otherworldly attractive that any fantasy/or sexual partner he's ever had up until now pale in comparison to him, and he's fully clothed.

Willing his body to remain discreet, Ichigo attempts to smoothly cut off his admirations, instead focusing on drinking some more of his ice cold drink–at this point, he feels like he needs it in more ways than one.

A/N: It's surreal writing something you haven't written for five years. I just hope it didn't suck. Thanks for reading.

-Kieran