Disclaimer: See page one.

A/N: The song in which the drumline does it's trick section is called, "Morris Brown", by Outkast. I myself don't care much for rap, but this song makes me want to get up and dance. Plus, it talks about Marching Band. What else do you need from a rap song...?

And thank you all the folks who reviewed and favorited and alerted. It's the most I've ever gotten for one chapter of something; you guys pwn.

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Five minutes before Karakura High School Marching Band was to take the field in class AA competition.

Any last words?

Ichigo desperately wanted to leave. He was tempted to tell his section leader, who went by the name Pickle, that he wanted to go immediately. But how badly would that hurt his reputation? Wimping out at the Marching Band competition because he was afraid? What was he, a man or a mouse? He had to toughen up. No one was allowed to be afraid on the drumline. If you're afraid, you'll march like you're afraid, and the judges will know you're afraid.

Unacceptable.

You must hit every drill spot, don't miss a beat, make sure you know which drum is which, stay in time, roll your feet when marching... Ichigo had to go over a mental checklist for fear of messing up at the very first competition that his band was to attend this year. He could hardly believe it, but what he was feeling wasn't fake or exaggerated.

He was nervous.

But then who wouldn't be? Tatsuki, Orihime, and yes, even Rukia were nervous. Orihime had to be convinced twice now to stop noodling, or playing out of turn, on her instrument by the drum major, Tony. She fidgeted and bit her lower lip, even though you could see excitement dance in her eyes. Tatsuki was flipping her sticks, one over the other rapidly, which was a clear give away to anyone that knew her personally. Rukia was drawing hasty sketches of rabbits and Mellophones in her dotbook, which usually held her drillspots and told her how many counts she had to get there.

This was what everybody had been waiting for; competition. This was what everybody had slaved over at band camp for, this was what everybody blew out their chops for (meaning that they played until they physically couldn't play anymore,) and what had caused weeks of terrible pain in the lower foot area of a good portion of the band. They were going to march, and if they were any good, they'd be getting one's and two's by the judges. Ichigo just hoped a Hollow wouldn't attack during the show.

That might be a little difficult to explain.

But now, that wasn't the main issue. The band that had preluded them, the Blue Marching Devils or something, had just finished their closer. That meant that, within the next two minutes, Karakura was to take the field in Class AA competition. Ichigo's fellow bandmates shivered in their mostly black uniforms. Chains clinked against brass instruments, sticks clicked, and then all was still. Tony was standing at the front of the two lines that the band had been arranged in. Percussion was in the back, meaning Ichigo would be among the last to walk out, and high woodwinds in the front, meaning Piccilos, flutes, and clarinets would be the first to be seen. Rukia was somewhere in between, where the mid-voice section was, behind the saxophones and in front of the trumpets. No one spoke, no one moved. Then, Tony clapped, and shouted,

"Band, Ten-Hut!"

And the band answered him, "Hut!", as winds raised their instruments to eye level and the drumline clasped their sticks double handedly.

After surveying the band to make sure no one spoke or moved after being called to attention, he turned on his heel, and clapped a slow, four count rythym. The snares played a tap to march the band to the field.

"Mark-Time-March!"

And the low chorus of nervous voices answered him.

"Check and one, two, three, four..."

"Forward march!"

The snare drum tapped on counts one, three, five, and seven, and the band proceeded to forward march across the track to the football field, with Tony leading.

Ichigo, who had started to sweat under the thick, black uniform, glared ahead at anyone who would make eye contact. His fingers were already stinging, and they had hardly warmed up underneath the stands of the football stadium, awaiting the previous band to finish their show. With each tap the snare played, he accented with a rimshot, or a hit of the metallic rim that encircled the drum head, and he felt the vibrations echo all the way up through to his shoulder. But he showed no weakness. Pickle would not allow it.

And so he walked solemnly to his drill-spot for page zero of The Opener, surverying the large crowd that always assembled for competitions, and was comprised mostly of band students. All those eyes watching him... made him nervous. He didn't like to be in the spotlight, and, out on this large feild, under the stadium lights, it felt very much like that. He fidgeted and checked his stick bag, which hung from the left-most drum on the quads (Or quints, technically; there were five drums mounted on the halter). Yep, there were enough sticks, in case he dropped or broke one on the move. He would just have to leave it 'til the show was over. Now all that was left was to get the show started, and not miss the drill spots. Or the right accents, rim shots, flams, rolls...

Focus.

Then, after the announcer proceded to tell the audience about the theme of their show- Modern Times, with the songs "Morris Brown", by an American group named Outkast, "The Medallion Calls" and "The Black Pearl" from Pirates of the Caribbean, and "Powdered Milk Man", by an American ska band. He then proceeded to name the section leaders, and ask the drum major Tony Kelly and assistant drum major Jerreane Jackson if their band was ready, while the former and the latter called the band to attention once again. No one spoke, no one moved. It was the calm before the storm.

And then, Tony whistled for three counts, held one count, and whistled three quarter notes; the drumline was off, marching in four-four time to the fifty yard-line. The four snare players continued ahead as the rest of the drumline stopped and marked time in their drill spots, and waited as the winds made a decidedly good crescendo, then dropped back down to a more quiet sound, or Piano. Thoughts flew through Ichigo's mind- Was he in the right drill spot? He didn't just miss that paradiddle, did he? How was Rukia doing? She hadn't tripped? Was she breathing right? How come he couldn't hear her sound over the size six bass drum that was two steps away? But no. He didn't have time to wonder about her anymore- the jazz and trick section was coming up. So without further ado, Ichigo marched forward, rolling his feet, to fill the gaps between two of the four snare players, who faced towards the five quad players, lining down the fifty yard line so that the audience got a prime view of this part of the show.

Suddenly, a single trumpet played out, a complex mix of sharps, flats, all played in the upbeats of seven-eight time. Ridiculously cool, though you'd never hear that escape Ichigo's mouth. And, with the cue from the drum major and the trumpet, the wind and pit sections stopped playing altogether, but posed with some members kneeling, some with horns popped to the judges booth, and some leaning to the side with their hands in "push" motions.

And the drumline began.

It was a complex mix of rolls, accents and rimshots, at first, and Ichigo grinned as he hit most of the beats correctly. But now the hard part began. In back-slapping motions, he and the other quad players began playing the snare drums, while the snares began playing the quads. They rolled, and reached around each others sticks to hit the right drums, all playing in the upbeat of five-four time, when the snares began a grinding motion with their instruments. The quads players had to reach back to hit the snare heads, which were now dipping between each drummer. About a measure after that, the quads (with Ichigo included, though he was embarrassed to do this part at practice) began the same grinding motion, but on the downbeats of five-four, so that when the quads went down, the snares came up, and vice versa. Then two of the bass drums, who had previously been flanking the outermost quad players, faced each other from opposite ends of the line, and began swinging their drums back and forth, right to left, but perfectly timed so that when a snare went down, the bass drum was over his or her head, and when a quad went down, the bass drum was over their head.

All the while they played, most of them didn't miss a beat. Ichigo cursed when he heard the bass drums fall out of time, causing phasing between the rest of the drumline. They were gonna get point deductions for that, for sure. Ichigo gripped his sticks with numb hands, making sure to continue the grinding movement, and was relieved when the drumline got back together, almost two measure later.

And, in Ichigo's opinion, the best part of the show began now.

The marching cymbals began dipping their symbols in and out between the snares and quads, and the players of these instruments began hitting the cymbals that were opposite them, with the blunt end of their sticks. They did twirling motions to get the right end of the stick to the right instruments, and it was tiring Ichigo, though he endured with his usual stubbornness. Only a few more measures of this and it would be done, not to mention the crowd was loving it.

In the back of his mind, where his subconsious dwelled, Ichigo wondered if Rukia was watching. If she was, did she enjoy it? Was she watching the whole drumline, or just him? Was she proud of him? The blush rose in Ichigo's ears, he knew, because they were suddenly warmer than the rest of his upper body, with the exception of his burning arms. He couldn't feel his forearms anymore, and his biceps were on the verge of giving out, but just a few more counts...

And then the drumline scattered, to the back of the field, as the rest of the band began playing loudly, or at Forte. It was the beginning of "The Medallion Calls". As he ran, he caught sight of Rukia, who, like the rest of the band, knew that the drumline would now play a minimal part of the show, just playing the basic beats and rythyms until the Closer. Then they would do one more show of tricks, though not as extravegant, and the show would be over. Ichigo searched Rukia's face closely, and she felt it, so she took her eyes away from the drum major, and met his gaze. And for a moment, time seemed to slow, as Rukia gave Ichigo the slightest, most heartfelt smile he had ever seen to grace her lips.

But at the back-hash line of the field, time seemed to speed up again as Pickle began shouting orders over the drumline to stay in time while marching, and watch the drum major, and Ichigo, did you just miss that flam? He glared at her from under his shako, as she played her snare expertly, using the traditional grip as opposed to the rest of the snares, who used matched overhand grip. Her hands were now blue, as Ichigo's were undoubtedly, from the cold and the striking of the drums, but she had a feral grin on her face, and, to Ichigo's distaste, it was highly infectious.

He found that by the time they marched off the field, his hands were blue and his face was split in a grin that would make a Hollow shiver.

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After the band had put away it's instruments and re-dressed in it's street clothes, Ichigo found Rukia with her section, which consisted of two American girls and an American boy. They were congratulating eachother on a job well done, when Ichigo snuck up from behind and hugged Rukia.

And then he came to his senses.

Rukia jumped when he grabbed her, but he was warm, so she didn't beat the living hell out of him where he stood Not to mention that there were witnesses around. Besides, almost immediately after hugging her, he let go of her, and stood and scowled, with folded arms. She would let it go this time.

What the hell was he thinking? Ichigo felt the blood rising to his ears again, but he still glared off into the distance. He couldn't let these losers (and Rukia) know what he was thinking. So, still scowling, and glaring and trying to look intimidating, Ichigo muttered something to Rukia, so that only she could hear.

"Do you wanna go sit with me?"

Rukia, who was still slightly disturbed that he had hugged her, now raised her eyebrows at him. Had he lost his mind? Had he accidentally swallowed Kon's mod-soul pill? He glared at her and added, "idiot," under his breath. Okay, so he wasn't possessed, and he wasn't crazy, judging from the use of the word idiot and it's accompaniement of glare and scowl. And it was pretty cold... so she decided to sit with him. If he so much as thought anything funny, she would just add on to the red color of excitement in his face with her own colors, like blue and purple. Besides, he had his precious reputation to protect.

But her crowd of followers wouldn't let her sit alone with him, so she sat next to him, with Keigo, Mizuiro, Orihime, Tatsuki and Chad sitting in various places directly around her.

They made a giant huddle, and Ichigo found himself uncomfortably close to Rukia as the awards ceremony started.

Their band had performed last of three bands in AA competition that day, so they were awarded after both of the other bands. The announcer had started speaking, and everyone grew quiet. Tension was in the stands, and whether it was because he was so close to Rukia or whether it was his own nervousness at his section's ratings, Ichigo shivered slightly.

"Karakura High School, Colorgaurd with a rating of..."

The crowd held it's breath.

"Three."

A pained, "Ohh..." sounded from the winds and percussion as the guard started sniffling. The same kind of "Oh" that you hear when a guy gets kicked where it hurts.

"Drum Major, with a rating of..."

Utter silence.

"One."

The section of the stands that the Karakura band occupied erupted in cheers. As the announcer started talking again, the stadium resumed it's silenece.

"Drumline, with a rating of..."

Ichigo held his breath.

"Two."

And let it out, sighing. They would have to hear the recording of the judges comments to see where they went wrong. He secretly glared at the judges booth, vowing vengeance.

"Auxilary Instruments, with a rating of..."

Rukia held her breath.

"Three."

She bit her lip, furrowing her eyebrows. Ichigo looked at her strangely, trying to figure out what she was thinking to make such a face. With a start, he realized that that was her equivalent of scowling. This did not bode well. She would be hell to deal with when they got home. But the announcer, who didn't know that he was possibly in danger of a good feirce mauling by band students, continued on, completely unaware.

"Overall Band, rating of..."

People muttered curses under their breathes.

"Two."

And so the band suffered through the rest of the awards ceremony, freezing, wishing they could just take their trophies and go home. All of them, except Ichigo. He was still huddled close to Rukia, and the ever-helpful and well endowed Orihime, who had so generously provided a Chappy the Rabbit blanket for the three of them to use, while Chad, Mizuiro and Keigo all huddled behind them, trying to capture some of the warmth. But Ichigo was tired. He was tired of holding his head up as the open-class, that is, bands with over one-hundred and fifty members, recieved their awards. Discreetly, he laid his head on Rukia's shoulder, and when she looked at him with something akin to confusion, he just glared at her and muttered, "Shut up, I'm tired."

"So lean on Orihime."

He continued to glare, but soon found that he couldn't quite keep his eyes open. He fell asleep, on her shoulder, and found that even in his dreams, he still couldn't get Rukia off his mind.

And even in his dreams, he still couldn't get her.