The Concept: A collection of Bleach oneshots, fifteen in total (perhaps more, if inspiration strikes), of all different pairings/themes/settings. The "inspiration word" for each will be the title of the chapter. Thanks to Riona Strife for the inspiration words.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor any of the characters, nor the plot. Only the crazy little situations they get themselves into.

-------------------

ONESHOT / 002: "Fan"

----------------------

"Huzzah, huzzah! Congratulations, Ichigo. You have passed the second test."

The teenager scowled, picking at a fragment of white--something--stubbornly sticking to his orange hair.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he growled. "I turned into a friggin' Hollow."

"Perhaps yes, Kurosaki-san, but did you notice..." the shopkeeper said lightly, gesturing vaguely with his closed fan at Ichigo's chest, his finger tapping it impatiently. "...the change in wardrobe?"

Ichigo gathered himself up, looking down and cocking an eyebrow. He plucked at the garment with two pinched fingers, clicking his tongue. A white chamise beneath a black kimono, with a stunningly-white length of cloth tied elegantly around his waist.

"I'm...a Soul Reaper."

"Quite right," Urahara said, in a tone far too cheerful for the moment, flicking his fan open in front of his face, his dancing eyes in shadow. "You have completed Shattered Shaft. Now...onto lesson three!"

He slammed the end of his cane onto the hardened ground, dust swirling from the impact. He picked it up again, but the body was left behind--

Ichigo stared as a zanpakuto emerged from the sheath, the sheath that had so remarkably masqueraded as a walking stick--and as a point of annoyance when its end was slammed into his konpaku's head on many an occasion. The end slid out and the sheath tipped over into the dust. Urahara kicked it away with one sandaled foot.

"...lesson three..." the man said brightly. He looked up at Ichigo.

"Knock this hat off my head. That is all. You have no time limit."

The boy stared dumbly at him, his mouth going slack.

"Your hat?"

"Precisely," Urahara said, the laughter in his voice gone.

He fluttered the fan nonchalantly before his face, his light brown hair rustling. He smiled in a paternal fashion, brandishing his blade.

"Aa," Ichigo said after a moment, a scowling grin appearing on his face. "I'll do that..."

"Very well. I wish you luck."

He smiled. A shrill whistle pierced the air as a far more intense wind than his fan had been providing swept over his face. He opened his eyes, looking down thoughtfully.

His fan lay in two on the dusty earth, a perfect, clean cut. Ichigo brushed the broad side of Zangetsu with one hand, dusting it off.

"A remarkable feat," Urahara admitted, kneeling to pick up the two pieces and stuff them in the pocket of his kimono. "However, that was not the task."

He indicated the striped atrocity on his head.

"...this is my hat. THIS is what you are to remove."

"I know that," Ichigo quipped, putting Zangetsu over his shoulder. "I just wanted your damn fan out of the way."

END

--------------------

Reviews will be rewarded with my undying gratitude! Or at least an e-brownie.