Chapter 2

Urahara's Store was a small, out of the way place. The nearby residents liked the man in charged of it, Kisuke Urahara, who was a blonde eccentric. He was kind, funny, smart and a bit of a flirtatious womanizer, and many assumed that the store he poked about with was simply his retirement. In a way the neighbors of Kisuke Urahara were right, but not for the reasons that they thought.

"Ah, Miss Kuchiki, welcome," he said, overly happy dispite it being so early in the morning.

"Can it, Urahara," came the sharp tongue soul reaper's reply. "I knew you'd be up early because of the message you sent over my soul page. So what do you want?"

"Now now, Ms. Kuchiki. I wouldn't want a valued customer such as yourself to get angry. Why don't you go get a little of shopping done before we get down to business."

Rukia sighed. Urahara was well known for being oblique, preferring to manipulate the situation. Of course, that came as no surprise when one considered the fact that Urahara was an exile. "Please tell me that you at least have Chappy…"

"Sorry," Urahara replied. "Chappy is still the most popular one, and Soul Society gets it first."

"Well it figures," she said, more then a litte disgruntled. She knew what was in here, and his stock seldom changed. A few different kinds of candies and dried fruit, some strange looking biological components in jars that looked like they came from Squadron 12, and a few other curiosities that were interesting on a shelf but not something a Soul Reaper would need, much less actually want.

"Your stock never changes," Rukia said, picking out a few pieces of candy and giving them to Urahara. "Now that should satisfy the charade that you're a businessman."

Urahara smiled at her. "Of course," he said, totaling the purchase up on his small calculator. "That'll be 732 yen."

Rukia grumbled, taking out her small purse and pulling out the appropriate currency. "I'm glad to be of service. Now, does your gigai to have a checkup? My rates are very good for female customers."

That earned him a bag to the face. "Urahara! Are you going to tell me something I need to know or should I just go on to school were I can keep an eye on Ichigo!"

"All right, Rukia," Urahara said, leaning forward a little bit. "Today you'll be getting a new English teacher."

Rukia nodded to Urahara. "That's right. He's suppose to be an American college graduate. Why would that interest you?"

"Because of his spiritual pressure." Urahara said, giving Rukia a slight shiver. She was getting better at reading spiritual pressure, especially since she got out that gigai that was keeping her from regaining her powers. Each person's spiritual pressure was unique, like a finger print, and served as an outward indicator of their soul. Spiritual pressure could also tell a person how powerful another person was, since the more spiritual pressure someone has, the greater the power a person could put into a demon arts spell or a number of other things.

"What's different about his?" she asked.

"It's different. Defiantly stronger then a normal humans. Soul reapers have tended to neglect Western countries such as the European Union and the United States. I've found out in my time here that these countries have employed a number of different spiritually aware people into helping them with their hollow problems, as well as other supernatural phenomena that take place within their borders."

"You think the new English teacher could be one of these people?" Rukia inquired.

Urahara nodded. "I think so. Be careful, Rukia. He could be harmless or even helpful, but he's a new variable in this whole equation. But he's like Ichigo and his friends, only with the consent and power of organizations equal to the power of Central 46 in this world. So be cautious in your dealings with him."

Rukia nodded. "I will. Thank you for this information." And with that, she left.

Everyone was talking in-between class, passing notes about the various things that have happened over the weekend. The soul reapers were gossiping at one corner of the room, while Ichigo and his friends were in another.

Rukia walked into the classroom, knowing that she was a period late and not particularly careing. "Hey Rukia," Ichigo greeted.

"Ah, good morning Rukia. You look lovely as always," Keigo, the generally accepted class clown, complemented.

"Stop it, Keigo. I'm surprised that you haven't creeped her out yet." Ichigo complained.

"I don't mind," Rukia commented, putting on her modest schoolgirl act. "Although I am a bit embarrassed at the complement."

"Don't be," Mizurio, the baby faced playboy of the group said. "You actually try to do your work and you do look good."

"Oh stop it!" Rukia said in another well performed act of modesty.

At that particular point, the door was kicked in. "Good evening, class!" a person yelled in accented Japanese as it's owner walked into the classroom.

"But it's morning," Tatsuki, a tomboyish teenager, deadpanned.

"Ah, but it's evening somewhere in this great wide world, and that is all that really matters!"

Ichigo groaned. This guy was beginning to sound a lot like his dad.

Rukia, on the other hand, was mildly surprised by the man's appearance. He was clearly almost as tall as Chad was, although not nearly as broad. His skin was unusually pale, his hair a natural shade of dark brown. His eyes were green, something of an oddity in a country were normal was black hair and brown eyes. In fact, he kinda looked like a relative of Urahara, even with a few similar facial features that she had found odd in the first place.

The new teacher made his way around to behind the table in the front of the classroom. "Now, I don't expect you to know English perfectly, but I do expect you to do your best! So, to test the abilities of you, the vaunted products of the Japanese educational system, I'm just going to expect you to write a simple essay."

The class was, needless to say, a little bit shocked. All the usual rituals of introduction had been thrown out the window, and the teacher had instead started writing on the board. Everyone looked up there with interest. What he wrote in English floored Chad, Uryuu, and Orohime, three of the people in the classrooms with a working knowledge of English.

Many philosophies and religions think of hell as a fiery place were the souls of the wicked burn for eternity. Is the reaction that causes this heat endothermic or exothermic? Please explain your answer with supporting evidence.

The class was, once again, floored.

"I hate you…" Uryuu silently muttered, although it seemed booming loud with the way that a pin could drop and everyone could hear it.

The new teacher smiled maliciously. "I'm William Gregory. I come from Indianola, Texas in the United States. I've majored in Computer Science at Sam Houston State University, and am over here to help you kids learn my fine mother tongue and let you actually see a real life, living, breathing six foot tall foreigner." He said foreigner somewhat formally, using the full form of the word. "And if all of you do actually try your best and listen, then none of the questions in the rest of this class will seem as difficult as this one."

Author's note: For those of you who don't know, the words endothermic and exothermic are chemistry terms. Endothermic means that a chemical reaction absorbs heat. Exothermic means that a chemical reaction releases heat.

The city of Indianola, Texas was at one time a thriving port town. However, after the 1901 hurricane it was abandoned and Houston became the major port of Texas. Parts of it are still preserved as state historical sites, and to my knowledge it's still on the registry as an incorporated city. But for all effects and purposes, it's a ghost town.