A/N: *coff* Yeah, I'm a lazy pile. WASSUP. XD I'm still not sure about the title of this fic but eff it for now! Anyways, I just finished my very very late chapter of my Pokémon fanfic and thought I should at least start my veryveryVERY late chapter of this! If you wanna see why it's so behind schedule, go on and read chapter 5 of that other fic.

Anyways, I only got one comment saying who should be in this chapter XD Thanks JaegerJaquezlover101 for reading my author's note XD

And with that, we introduce the first TIME SKIPPUUU of this fic. It won't be much, but without further adieu, here's lil snowy Hitsugaya's chapter! (and the first chapter with a non-latin title name…the French sounds much better than the latin one)

Warning: Copious amounts of shota…I mean— language.

Also, I take this opportunity to mention I started a sequel to my old Bleach Roleplay site. Message me if you'd be interested in more information.

Chapter Three

Au Contraire

The marker made light squeaks as it was pressed on the dry erase board several times, descriptively writing out "Toshiro Histugaya" on its pure white surface. Similarly, the writer of the characters was just as pure white, from his porcelain skin to his naturally spiky hair. The shaggy homeroom teacher was clicking away on his brand-name laptop with some strange fruit on the back cover, and stood.

"Class, please be courteous to your new classmate. He's a transfer student from Dangai junior high school." Zangetsu said as he adjusted the collar of his baggy dress shirt. It was a Monday, and even the teacher had no intention of dressing up for it. The miniscule white student in charcoal attire bowed as Zangetsu gave him class rules on a sheet of paper to avoid having to speak any more. The short prodigy treaded back to the end of the classroom, the available seat was near a group of white-clad males (much taller than him) which left him slightly concerned, but not visibly so.

A pair of strange red-headed boys looked back at him as he took his seat, nearly falling into it. Toshiro still averted his icy eyes from the other stares, pulling out his organized binder—which contained his schedule.

Being a forwarded student, all of his classes were at sophomore level. Hitsugaya himself was slightly insulted at not being elevated further, but the vice principal Aizen remarked "They are mandatory". Curse college and its requirements—they should be praising him by now. Even as an elevated student, Toshiro would not take part in academic competitions; he was smart for an eighth grader, not a high schooler.

Not that he would say he was average in this setting: Proficient-And he would keep it that way.

"To-shi-ro, eh? Can I call ya Shiro? Maybe snowy?" A vile, nails-on-chalkboard voice snapped his vapid thoughts of success away. Toshiro turned his vision on the sickening face of the vertically profound youth—wearing the equally sickening color of white.

"Hitsugaya will suffice." Hitsugaya himself replied with his cool indifference.

"Keh, all these Karakura nerds are uptight enough, princess. A hello would suffice too, right Tes?" snake eyes shifted to his shivering partner, Tesla Lindocruz, who nodded. The taller one snickered, flashing a wide toothed, classic grin at the lower seated boy.

"Hello." Toshiro again gave no interest in speaking to them. If he hated something more than he hated white and tall people—it was grins. A warm smile would soften most hearts, but only begin to thaw his disinterest. A smirk invoked challenge, one Toshiro would accept.

A grin showed evil intentions, none he could calculate.

These were the truly unreadable people. And he would never trust someone that fit his list.

The nightmare growled, looking back at his blonde friend. Hitsugaya could hear all he was saying, but found it too immature to give his rebuttal. Toshiro would ignore it, but he was right there. Still, he did his best not to let it boil his rising temper, reading his schedule until he could memorize it. A few more voices began whispering in seats ahead of him, before the orange haired kid (that he'd mistaken for a red-head, like his friend) turned around.

"Jiruga, can't you go a day without harassing someone?" The orange boy scoffed, looking back at the sneering face of Nnoitra Jiruga.

"I tried once, 'bout died. Torment is in my blood." Nnoitra snickered, almost shrilly. The orange head rolled his eyes but had to force resisting a chuckle.

"Too bad almost doesn't cut it." The long red haired male next to him started to laugh, and Jiruga glared.

"Fuck off, Pineapple. You too, Strawberry!"

"Is there a fascination with fruit and you, Jiruga-senpai?" Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow at the towering one to his right. Strawberry started to grin again.

"He's a real fruit, neh Jiruga-senpai?" Now Ichigo was starting to tease, making the snowy student frown. Jiruga huffed, leaning forwards in his desk to lay himself down as much as he could.

"The Berry is more of the fruit!" Jiruga snorted, glaring over at the shorter transfer student. "But if you say so, I need to think of a fruit to call you, tiny."

The bastard.

Hitsugaya glared, crystal orbs wanting to stab the taller one who dare call him tiny. He went to give a retort, but the pineapple red head scoffed.

"Just leave the kid alone Jiruga, give him a week tops before you start harassing him. First day is the worst."

"Second is the worse," Ichigo sighed. "Jeager Jaquez pushed me down the stairs successfully last week." Hitsugaya looked at the calendar as the orange strawberry re-informed his friend of some giant demon cat throwing him down a flight of stairs after lunch. School had started a week ago, officially, and when Hitsugaya would normally be getting used to his new year at middle school, he instead surpassed classes in 5 days. His ego got the better of him, starting another self achievement rant when fingers snapped in front of his eyes.

"Yo, Blueberry get yer rear in gear!" Jiruga started snickering at his cleverness. Hitsugaya looked up at him but stood quickly, pulling his binder up into his arms.

"Blueberry?" Hitsugaya raised another snowy, scowling eyebrow. Nnoitra nodded, ruffling the spiky youth's hair.

"Cuz of yer eyes. There ain't any other blue fruit— But there ain't white ones either, little snowy~" The tall one scampered off, Hitsugaya seriously considering destroying him, in a very painful way if possible. He frowned, scowling as the tall one exited the room, having learned to duck in the doorway. The strawberry kid (Ichigo, maybe?) followed him, waving to his other friend as they disappeared down the hall.

Toshiro paced down the hallway, keeping his steps light as to not add to the clamor of first period. He saw the tall one over the entire wave of people, and then bright orange hair escaping through the crowd next to him. "They must have class together." Hitsugaya thought to himself, heading to the main stairwell.

A monumental mistake, as he started to ascend two flights of stair with cows. Incredulously, they pushed and shoved and snorted just like a pack of herded animals. Okay, granted it was Monday, but they were such inconsiderate people. And he thought middle school was rough. As if maneuvering through this rodeo wasn't difficult enough—Toshiro was small. Really small. Most people in high school hit puberty and had their own growth spurts.

Toshiro, not so much. Making it to 5 foot was already a decent challenge, as 4"11 and 7/8ths was troublesome enough to say and stand.

Grandma really needed to start counting his hair as actual height if he spent so much time perfecting it.

"Watch it, kid!" Toshiro moved just in time to miss a giant brick of a jock dashing down the up-moving stairwell. He frowned but finally pushed and shoved his way onto the third floor. The halls cleared as most people got where they intended to quicker than most would on their first day, and Hitsugaya was no exception—even if he memorized the room number.

Room 312 had many sinks and laboratory stations equally aligned, beakers and burners neatly displayed on each. This half of the third floor was dedicated to the science department, the other for the mathematics. Really, in short sense: it was a heavily academic area, as if actually getting to that floor was not difficult enough. He looked around, near to one of the last few to arrive he wanted to simply take a vacant seat in back, but went up to the mahogany desk next to a larger lab table up front.

The teacher sitting behind the desk was wearing baggy and wrinkled black clothing, looking almost like a hakama or shihakushou from those old manga books Hitsugaya has seen (but not read). He also had a green and tan hat lying loosely on dusty blonde hair and shadowed his eyes.

"…Excuse me," Hitsugaya said after a moment of not being noticed. The teacher looked up, taking his feet off the desk and stood. Thank goodness he wasn't overly tall.

"Good morning, little one!" Annoyance was obvious on Hitsugaya's face. To avoid speaking in said tone, handed a green slip of paper to the teacher. He took it, reading it over a little and lifted his hat up, revealing chestnut eyes with some dark circles beneath them. "Ahh, little one is the new transfer student from Dangai I've heard about! Welcome…I'm Urahara, Biology— and Algebra— teacher."

"…Pleasure to meet you, sensei." Hitsugaya forced politeness. Urahara seemed to find that tone acceptable, and pat Hitsugaya on the shoulder.

"Great, let's see…" he scoped out the classroom, gently nudging Hitsugaya in the direction he wanted him to go. "There's a free seat over here, Toshi-kun."

"Toshiro." He corrected, sitting on the free stool. The hatter clomped away, not even listening. He mumbled a little something to himself about how too carefree this teacher was, especially if he had two classes to teach. The bell rang, the other stools being occupied by now and Toshiro already felt eyes looking at him from all angles. Urahara gave no mind to any of this, deciding to start a review on their previous chapter about asexual reproduction in organisms.

Toshiro sighed, considering this was a review from his earth science class in 7th grade. He still pulled out his binder and opened the first notebook in it, writing down a few notes and avoiding the stares. Most students had gone along with what they were supposed to learn; others were a bit more distracted at why Toshiro hadn't been publicly introduced.

Urahara didn't let them think about it much longer, making his students read a section and answer the questions at the end. Hitsugaya got straight to work, reading the words on the page as quickly as if it was his own name, every stroke of the pen known in an instant. Nearing the end of the hour, students shut their books and returned them to the basket under the desk, either having finished their homework or didn't intend to. Hitsugaya looked around the room before copying what they were doing, returning his binder to his bag. Students went about talking amongst themselves (Hitsugaya wasn't deaf, he knew what the popular topic was), when hands went over his eyes.

"Guess who!" The female voice chirped. Hitsugaya's aqua orbs widened.

"Hinamori-chan?"

"I told you to call me Momo!" The delicate fingers were removed from his eyesight, and Hitsugaya turned to see his old friend standing behind his stool. "I haven't seen you in so long, Toshiro-kun…I didn't expect to see you here!"

"I didn't even realize you were in high school…" A smile finally started to appear on Hitsugaya's face. Momo was a true friend; she lived next door to Hitsugaya's grandmother and brought leftovers over frequently. He especially enjoyed when during the summer festivals she would take him to the carnivals and markets for fun and fresh watermelon.

God, he loved watermelon.

He hadn't seen her since she had to go to the Rukon middle school, Hitsugaya being left in elementary school, and once he'd finally gotten out of that place, he ended up going to another middle school—not Hinamori's. Thankfully, his middle school career ended abruptly, and he hadn't seen Momo since last summer, and certainly hadn't heard that she was going to the new joint school. But he could only imagine she was genuine in saying she didn't expect to see him in the same grade as her.

A little insulting, but Momo knew Hitsugaya. If it was too much work, he probably wouldn't have transferred.

"I'm sorry we couldn't see each other this summer…I was in Okinawa to visit my grandfather for 3 months. I barely got on the flight to make it here when school started."

"I understand, Momo. If we hadn't met now we would have the next time you baked."

"Right!" She smiled through the ringing of the next bell. She looked over at the clock and pulled on her backpack. "I'll see you at lunch?"

Hitsugaya nodded. "I'd like that."

"Great, seeya then!" She waved and headed out the door. Hitsugaya couldn't hide the small, childish grin he was wearing as he pulled on his bag and exited the room. It soon disappeared when a long, spindly hand ruffled his head hard. Toshiro turned in the hall to see that tall-fucker Nnoitra waving his hand and fingers at the disgruntled boy. Next to him was a shorter (but still tall) blue haired male, grinning like some feral animal that needed to be put behind bars with a "Do not feed" sign taped to it. Equally obnoxious was his electric blue and rebellious hair, almost mimicking Toshiro's.

"Why couldn't he be the blueberry?" Toshiro found himself snapping at the lanky student. Nnoitra looked at wildboy, and burst into hysteric cackling. Hitsugaya's lips turned into a line, resisting a pout at the older boy's reaction, and the confused-as-hell look the blueberry gave his friend.

"You're retarded, Jiruga."

"Must be why ya' git along wit' me so well."

The bickering continued down the crowding halls while Hitsugaya headed back to the main stairwell. He found it convenient that he had climbed three flights of stairs, and now had to go back to the basement, only to go back to the third floor for Algebra later that day, and then to the basement for lunch and gym class. The stairs were a disaster once more, and going down was just as awful as the trek upwards, this time he was focusing on not falling into people.

He headed down into the basement, passing the kitchen where the voluptuous women of various heights prepared the lunch of the day, "Cheesy Breadsticks or Eggroll with rice." Taking a left, he found a long hallway unlike the other's he'd seen. The walls were not very decorated, a sign at the other end of the hall giving notice to the family living and foods classes being down there, but he wasn't looking for that. Walking down the corridor there was an abrupt left turn going up a ramp. Quirking an eyebrow, a plaque said: Room B 7-8. Hitsugaya wasn't looking for basement floors either, but from what his school directory said was there was a secret stairwell to a third floor classroom.

The contractor must have forgotten rooms or something.

He went up the ramp, students disappearing into a criminal law class further down it. To the right was a thin, narrow staircase in a doorway, the sign next to it saying: 333-334 and an arrow pointing upwards. Toshiro headed up the stairs that would have barely held two people passing each other; they weren't too long, meaning it couldn't go all the way to third floor. Honestly, the contractor should have just put this on first floor and given it different numbers.

He took a right turn into room 333, a long class room with 5 rows with up to 10 desks in each. They were not all filled, in fact barely half of them were. A doorway was in the back of the class, leading into another room with no lights on. Avoiding meeting any other student's eye, he went to the tall, steel desk at the front of the extravagant, hidden classroom with a perfect view of the courtyard and the front of the school.

Hitsugaya looked up to his teacher, freezing in his spot as said teacher was already in front of him, looking down with a wide, toothless grin. Toshiro would describe his eyes if he could, but they were pursed shut in a fox-like manner. His silvery hair shaped his head perfectly, glistening under fluorescent lights but parted away from his eyes. Wearing a mixed white and black uniform, a white dress shirt with black pants, Hitsugaya could not tell which school the teacher had originally been from, if he even had worked for either school.

His grin widened, fox eyes opening only a shred to show the brightest color of blue he'd ever seen, even after looking in a mirror. Toshiro's eyes almost widened and considered taking a step back from the leering man, but couldn't, as a boney hand pat him on the shoulder.

"Pleased ta' meet ya', Snowy-kun. Take a seat, anywhar ya' like." His grin, if possible, grew, giving Toshiro the biggest wave of unease he'd sensed in his short life.

Tall, white, and a grin.

He hated this man with the sin of a grin. He could barely look away. It was scary.

He nodded, pulling away from him and put the scowl back on to replace his agape expression, going to the back of the room to be as far from him as possible.

Ichigo paced through the halls, going down into the basement and cutting through the cafeteria tables to get to his locker quicker. He stashed away his English book in the small space and retrieved his gym clothes. He had gym after lunch, but since he had this period before lunch free—he started to hang out in the gymnasium. Sometime he did Kuchiki's homework, other times he watched the games unfold. A few times Kenpachi-sensei offered him to jump in, and depending on his mood—he would.

Today, he was ready to warm up before gym. The teacher said that Mondays were either workout days or group events, like Matball or Survivor or Dodgeball. Ichigo wasn't a fan of the last two (he couldn't throw, and senselessly running for your life wasn't a strong suit) but Matball, an alteration of kickball, was his new favorite gym activity. He hoped it was Matball day, but at the same time, he wanted to save his ass-kicking strength for his own class. Sophomores never beat the seniors, but beating juniors was just a kick below the belt to them.

The orange haired boy headed down the history and weight room wing of the school. The bell sounded as he went up three steps and onto tiled flooring, passing a screened opening and countertop used for concessions at games. Ahead of the stairs was the possible pride of the school—Zanpakutou Gym, named after Yamamoto Zanpakutou, the founder of the original Karakura high school. It was renovated and restored, wanting to keep the space the same as it had always been, even with the additions to the school as a whole. It was definitely a remarkable gym, and that was only the larger of three in the whole school.

Ichigo walked past the plaque giving a history of Yamamoto and his achievements, pushing the doors open to the gym. No one was present, probably getting roll call and finishing dressing out. Ichigo sat on his spot on the bleachers, sitting a row or two up to avoid any projectiles that may come his way. He set his bag down and leaned back so his ass was on the foot space of the row behind him and his seat was under his knees. He pulled out his notebook for English, not really wanting to do his homework. He decided he'd only play Matball if Kenpachi-sensei asked, and refuse if it was anything else.

Tapping his pencil on his notebook, he really didn't want to analyze the author's meaning of life through the color sienna. He started scribbling and making little doodles on the side of his notebook, one including a stick figure with hair in disarray and sharp, pointy teeth. He snickered at his work, making another, taller figure shaped like a spoon to bother the other one. Ichigo wasn't an artist, but damn it looked good enough for him.

The doors of the gymnasium opened with a squeak as Kenpachi, a tall, well-built man with black spiky hair and a whistle around his neck entered the gym. He could only be matched in height by that tall bastard Nnoitra, but Ichigo had to assume it wouldn't be by much. Behind him trailed his sophomore class, among it was that bowl-hair-cut kid Ichigo had English class with, wearing sweats and a baggy shirt. Ichigo wasn't sure, but he remembered his name was something along the lines of Yamada. A few other members of Ichigo's classes filed in behind the tall gym teacher, but most Ichigo was unfamiliar with.

"Alright guys, Monday means Matball. We're gonna play the juniors and we're gonna win, a'ight?" Kenpachi said over his shoulder. His class gave simultaneous nods, and a few kids went and gathered the mats to use as bases. Kenpachi looked over to Ichigo as he watched the class, Ichigo giving a short nod and went back to writing. The gym instructor let him do what he was doing, uninterrupted.

The door creaked once more as the three other gym teachers entered—one woman and her two breasts. She was tan skinned, not in a fake way, and had luminous blonde hair that hung over her smoldering, sea foam green eyes. She had white shorts and a tight white athletic shirt with the number 3 over one of her assets on a small pocket. Her class of juniors was well built, not nearly as scrawny as the sophomores Ichigo was used to aiding. They were so screwed.

Ichigo didn't bother watching the rest of the juniors walking in; afraid he'd end up staring at a few too-hot guys. As deep in a closet full of shit he was, he was bi, not gay. Boobs were awesome, but nothing could match a really hot guy. Even with Renji being a bastard and telling him to stop complaining and get laid, Ichigo had to agree that now, seeing high school and only being there a week, he really needed it. It was all people talked about, and was starting to make his skin crawl.

He heard the teachers meet and speak, the juniors going to kick first. Kenpachi did a head count quickly, having to point and do so once everyone stood still.

"Yo, Kurosaki!" Ichigo's strawberry head looked up from his notebook quickly, the star-headed teacher across the gym, pointing at the juniors. "Halibel's class is 5 short. I don't think their ego will make up for that, right?" He grinned, feral. Ichigo blinked, not really wanting to join a side that would win anyway. Hell, the only way they could lose is if they couldn't run around the bases twice in time to still have someone up to kick.

"Well, Kenpachi-sen—" He stopped, spotting a familiar, equally feral grin in the group of "disadvantaged" juniors. His eyes narrowed, observing the wild blue hair of his newest rival. Grimmjow had not ceased to vex him this whole first week of school, and he'd be damned if he let him see him pussy out of playing a manly ball game.

"Sure." He corrected himself, closing his notebook and climbing off the bleachers and going to the front of the gym. Kenpachi gave him a hard pat on the back for being a good sport, but whispered something about not making his class feel bad.

Ichigo didn't care if the sophomores were his classmates—he was going to fucking kick ass if he had to play when he had homework due tomorrow.

"Like Berry can make up for us being down players, 'might as well've given us a goat as a teammate." He heard Grimmjow jeer from the head of the line. He must've been one of those "star player" guys that always budged to the front for his reputation. Ichigo glared up at him, earning the flash of white canines and his signature grin he gave Ichigo at every pass in the hallway on the way to their Algebra class. Ichigo resisted his cheeks heating up from it, having seen the smirk so frequently in the halls and right next to him in class, he couldn't get over it. It suited Grimmjow, and if he wasn't such a douche, Ichigo would've called it sexy.

He probably would anyways, seeing as he had to look away from his slightly-tan skin under a ripped t-shirt and basketball shorts. He was sculpted in every way that was so good it should've been illegal. Cyanide thoughts were disrupted from Kenpachi's whistle, signaling to start the game as he and the busty Halibel seated themselves on the bleachers closest to the kicking line. The Yamada kid, not wanting to show his clumsiness out in the field, acted as the pitcher and rolled the navy foam ball at the junior that looked ready to destroy the gym.

Grimmjow waited for the precise second before kicking the ball through the air, making it go sky high. It bounced off the air conditioning vents and fell back to earth, a lanky and nimble blonde kid bouncing across the field and caught it. Kenpachi blew his whistle, not even looking up from his attendance sheet.

"Out." The female said calmly, her arms crossed over her wide chest. Grimmjow spat and his posse behind him, a short boy with bad teeth and another spindly male with greasy black hair and slanted eyes, snickered. The latter could've been in relation to Nnoitra with that face. The short boy before was wearing a white baseball cap, sideways, and couldn't keep his ugly teeth hidden behind cracked lips.

"Fuck off, Roy." Grimmjow clapped the back of the hatted boy's head, spinning his cap around. He snickered again (he could mimic Nnoitra too, apparently) and readjusted it, going up as Grimmjow went to the back of the line—and Ichigo.

Ichigo didn't want to talk to him, at all. He was focusing on the character known as Roy pull at his shoelaces to prevent the entire shoe from flying off and giving them a second out. He felt aquamarine eyes on him regardless, shifting his eyes to his left and saw the sinful smirk down at him.

"Nice kick." Ichigo said, making the smirk instantly turn into a scowl. Kurosaki got a grin on his face at being able to rile up his Algebra partner so easily, hearing a huff of frustration from the bluenet. He heard a sound similar to a 'whump' as Roy's foot collided with the foam ball, his shoe barely staying on in time for him and a girl with black curls in the running line going to first base. He reached the base easily with the girl and tightened his slack shoelaces again while the girl made sure her curls stayed in pigtails.

"Well it was better than our new girl on the team can do." Grimmjow's gruff tone cut in as they shuffled forward in line. Ichigo frowned slightly, but he was used to Grimmjow's insults and honestly, he'd done much worse than calling him a girl.

"We'll see." He said simply, watching the reedy male behind Roy saunter to first base with another girl (the running line was full of them). A few more boys made their way through the line before the bluenet decided to speak again.

"So, Berry, about that—"

"No."

"Fuckin hell, It's not like I want to take your car for a weekend in Vegas, just take yer homework for that clog-shoes' class."

"I do my homework; it shouldn't be too hard for you, right?"

"Ha, yeah right."

"Good point, since you sleep all the time or miss half the lecture for getting breakfast."

"Shuttup!" Grimmjow growled, leering down at Ichigo as the kid in front of him ran off and a few came back to home base. Ichigo smirked but went up to the plate. Hanatarou (he just remembered his name) looked him over slightly before rolling the ball surprisingly quick, the foam ball bouncing a few times on the way to Ichigo's Converse. Ichigo kicked it on the bounce, the ball popping up a couple feet before hitting the ground and rolling to Kenpachi's feet.

"Foul." He kicked it back to his team, Yamada scrambling after it. Grimmjow was snickering behind Ichigo, making his blood boil. Think of the ball like it was Grimmjow's head. That'll work. Yamada finally recovered the ball and went back to the pitcher's spot, rolling it once more—no bounces. Ichigo kicked it again, a hook to the left. It flew over their heads, just missing the ceiling, but also missed the marker on the back wall for home runs.

Still, after Ichigo deemed he couldn't get out from someone catching it, he took off to first base, a girl with black hair and big glasses following him. Reaching first base, he ran to second, dodging the throw one of the sophomores threw at him. He cursed, shouting something to the sneaky blonde from earlier. Ichigo got to third base when the tall blonde was pacing over to block his path from third back to first. With a piano-toothed grin, he handed Hanatarou the ball, and went back to his place.

"Move in, e'rybody!" He grinned when he saw Grimmjow next in line, and was promptly flipped the bird. Halibel and Kenpachi either ignored it or didn't see, but it was certainly expected of the blue-haired punk. Grimmjow still scoffed, kicking the ball fairly and ran to first base. Ichigo ducked out of the balls way as it got close to his person, then ran to first base for the second time. He nearly ran into Grimmjow, who must've been planning on stupidly running towards the ball just to get to second base.

"Watch it, Berry." He snorted but stood, ready for the next chance to run. Ichigo huffed, readying himself as well.

Several rounds later, the juniors were clearly ahead, easily taking out the sophomores and then getting numerous runs when they were up. By the time Kenpachi and Halibel both whistled at the same time, it was the end of class, and the juniors had won by a: we-don't-need-to-keep-score margin.

Ichigo sighed and went back over to his bag, making sure everything was in order so he wouldn't have to worry about it at lunch. He headed out of the gym, taking the opposite hallway as the students as they went towards the locker rooms, Ichigo doing his best not to look at Grimmjow. The slender blonde sophomore was currently making some smart ass comment to him, and Jeager Jaquez looked about ready to beat him into the wall. He'd seen the blonde kid every time he came to gym for his free period, but he never passed him in the hall or had class with him, so his name was a mystery. He certainly looked more like a senior rather than someone Ichigo's age.

Walking towards the cafeteria so he missed the crowd of people that would soon come, Ichigo turned the corner towards the locker bay. Walking past a few aisles of the maroon lockers, he spotted inky black hair and pale skin, his locker shut and emerald eyes were on Ichigo instantly. Ichigo stopped his walking, waving with a small smile.

"Hi Ulquiorra." He'd run into the shorter junior often and had been given permission to say his name normally.

"Kurosaki-kun," Ulquiorra nodded, he'd been given permission but didn't take advantage of it. "I need to speak with you for a moment. Can you spare the time?" He asked, quiet and calm. Ichigo nodded, walking over to the short emo boy.

"What's up?" Ichigo asked, waving for Ulquiorra to follow him towards the commons area where the lunch tables were. The boy seemed to mull things over, Ichigo had learned how to read the boys expressions—or rather lack of.

"I am hosting a party Friday evening at my house. You and one guest of your choice are invited." He said after a while. Ichigo stopped, standing next to the table he and Renji had claimed.

"A party?"

"Yes. Music, food, games, whatever you like," he dug in his pocket and handed Ichigo two, business card sized papers with an address and phone number on it. Ichigo smiled and took them; obviously they were going to serve as tickets. He wondered what kind of house the cute junior had, but from how proper he was, he could only imagine.

"Thanks!" Ichigo smiled. "I'll invite my friend Renji, and I'll make sure he'll behave."

"I would appreciate that." Ulquiorra smiled only slightly, nodding and heading to his own table in a dark, shady corner.

Ichigo was giddy—he hadn't been invited to a party that wasn't at some pizza joint for a birthday party and cake. He hoped it was as great as what he heard the troublesome students talked about, music, dancing, and lots of fun. Alcohol wouldn't be a problem with Ichigo, he preferred to stay clean.

He got a jab in the arm as his flaming red-headed friend approached.

"Yo, you allergic to sitting or something?"

"Oh shut up," Ichigo went around and sat on his side of the bench, Renji sitting across from him. "Hey man, Ulquiorra invited us both to this party Friday."

"The short, emo kid?"

"Do you meet anybody, Renji?"

"None of your weird acquaintances…" Ichigo frowned at realizing most of his new friends were all from Hueco. The same school he'd been worried sick about and the same guys that almost beat him up on the first day of school.

"Well, yes the short emo kid." He handed the card to Renji, who looked it over before pocketing it. Ichigo took that as a sign that he'd go, but Ichigo would call him anyways to remind him. Renji started going off about his Foods class that he hadn't signed up for and thoroughly despised. He apparently was getting scolded every day for staring at the blonde teacher's giant breasts even if he claimed innocence. Ichigo knew better.

"—I mean there's this guy with tattoos and black hair that stares way more than me." Ah, Ichigo took that as a confession. He smiled, looking to check the lunch line and see if he should join it. It had shortened, but his attention was drawn away from it right away when he saw blue orbs cutting through his sienna ones.

He gulped, trying to look away but only resulted in eye-shifting nervously. The owner of such bright blue eyes looked back down at the shorter classmate, thumbing over in Ichigo's direction. Emerald eyes and inky emo hair looked back to Ichigo before looking at Grimmjow and nodded. Grimmjow seemed to contemplate, but took a card from Ulquiorra between his fingers and wandered off.

Ichigo couldn't believe what he just saw. Whatever conversation took place, he didn't want to know. But why would Ulquiorra be talking—no, inviting—the guy that had nearly broken his face to his home for a party.

Kurosaki was suddenly very, very worried.

A/N: Longer chapter than I would have liked, but length doesn't matter, right?

R&R please. Reviews make me happiez.