A/N: HURP. Finally did that Pokémon chapter and…it's been a long time XD I've had drawing/paper-writing homework coming up/due, so nothing was really accomplished. My drawing projects come first because the OCT I'm in has deadlines. Sorry guys =/

I don't really know what to say so…onwards.

Chapter Seven

Disce aut Discede

Saturday—4 a.m.

"Shirosaki-kun."

A groan rumbled in his throat.

"Shirosaki-kun…Hichigo…" the same, smooth voice protruded the albino's sleeping mind.

"SHIRO-OOO! Wake yer skinny ass up!"

"Fuck off!" Shiro cringed, rubbing his head before lifting it. He was embarrassed to see a thin layer of drool over marble countertops, and plenty of booze around him to explain what had occurred. Before him his two tall friends giggled away, while his host remained stoic.

"Shirosaki-kun, good to see you conscious." He smarmily commented, causing the other two's riot to become louder.

"Ch, Ya got a comfy counter, Schiff." The inky young male shook his head lightly, dark locks skating over his eyes. Shiro wouldn't resort to those girlish nicknames everyone else called the emo, Yora or Ully. Schiff sounded at least a bit more masculine, even if the owner of said nickname was not physically. Like if someone said Smirnoff a little too quickly.

Oh, the last thing he needed was more alcohol.

"Ya were pretty fucked up, Shiro. Clean knocked out while everyone ran out of here." Nnoitra's voice got his thoughts off of his unpleasant stomach, grinning like an idiot. His bandana that normal folded neatly over his eye was instead around his neck, his shirt slightly disheveled as well.

"Yeah, an' what were ya doin' while everyone left?" His negative colored eyes darted between his shirt and neck, a smirk creeping over his face. Nnoitra glared, zipping up his half-undone hoodie so the sleeves weren't hanging off his thin shoulders.

"Fuck off."

"So kind, Nnoi." Shinji, the second one in front of the marble gave a grin that mimicked Shiro's. Obviously he knew something Shiro didn't. He didn't even doubt that, even if Shiro would've been sober and awake he'd be three steps behind the Ramen noodle. Shinji was all-seeing, and that was probably along with the effect of his uncle and twice-over teacher, Urahara.

"What fuckin' time is it?" Shiro interjected again, sitting up and cracking his back, steadying himself on the stool so he wouldn't fall backwards.

"About four," Nnoitra huffed, retying the bandana under his sleek hair, masking whatever he didn't want the world to see. "You've been out since about two, after Berry left."

"Well, the fuck did Grimmy run off to?"

"Ully-chan suckered him into fixin' the mess he made of the livin' room with his mad-ass dance party."

"I volunteered, you bean pole." Grimmjow's gruff tone came from behind Shiro, the flipping of switches heard before a vacuum. Shinji's smile couldn't be broken even if Grimmjow had a fist in his face. That's why Shiro liked the guy, probably. He was a smartass, flirtatious little shithead with a sense of humor like his own. And he had a pair and the power to back it up tucked away somewhere in his lithe form. Shinji and Shiro had been friends for years; they'd gone to the same school their entire life. When Shinji was expelled from their middle school and moved to a foreign class, Shiro was left as the awkward kid again, not only going through "the phase" but his own skin coloration drew unnecessary attention.

He should be thankful Shinji moved away from him for those years. He wouldn't have learned to throw shit back at people if he hadn't had to learn himself.

Then sophomore year he'd officially given himself his status for high school. He'd dealt with enough of the stares and whispers to shout back terms of endearment such as "The fuck ya talkin' about, cockface?" when overhearing said things. There was of course one instance he couldn't quite get over.

The second day at Hueco high he happened to say this phrase to someone a bit bigger than him. In all cases, Shiro wouldn't back down.

"Wash yer mouth out with some soap, ya fuckin' runt." The large, piercing-eyed boy in Shiro's home base class grumbled. Shiro scoffed, unfortunately being placed in the seat diagonal from him. He'd been talking to some skinny-as-shit guy that reminded him of Shinji—wearing a grin constantly. That was gut-wrenching enough to hear them talking about how much of a freak he was.

"Yer soap is probably flowery as that bitch's," his highlighter yellow eyes flicked to their home base teacher with curling chestnut hair. "and I don't want anythin' of yers down my throat, freak." In retrospect, he'd been pushing a few buttons probably. He didn't have any qualms with, well, what he was implying.

Not that he would! Back to the story…

Needless to say, once homeroom ended and Shiro was basking in his cocky disposition, he got a fist to the jaw and was punted into the wall. The scratched-up number over the door nearly fell on him from the impact, clenching his jaw in shock. The other student scoffed, his friend giving a few cackles behind him. Shiro got to his feet and socked him right in the nose just as Halibel, the gym teacher, put him in a choke-hold in her attempt to stop the fight.

"Git off me!" Shiro cursed, held firm by the brawny woman (and her breasts). The blue-haired punk was in a similar situation with a dark skinned man with tinted glasses and torn white dress shirt.

"Both of you to the office, now." the man uttered lowly, spinning the feral sophomore down the hall. Halibel shoved Shiro in the same direction, shooing him when he glowered back at her. He grumbled, trudging down the hall to the clearly distinguishable principal's office. He heard the larger man following him after a while.

"Lil' shitface." He heard him grumble. Shiro just shook his head, pushing the doors of the office open, not really holding it open for the one behind him. The other wasn't very amused, but took a seat in an uncomfortable school chair lined up against the wall by a large door with a golden plaque.

"I'll wash yer mouth out with soap, bluey." He snickered at the irritation on the blue-haired boy's face. It made him look even more dangerous, and Shiro just looked at him dead-on. A feral growl escaped him as a petite woman with glasses stepped in front of them both, looking grim.

"Both of you can enter the office now." She briskly returned to her desk, short heels clicking. She looked like she took her job as a secretary much more seriously than anyone else in the school. It made her seem misplaced, especially in her black skirt and blouse. The blue-haired boy kicked Shiro's chair, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he stood in front of him.

"Lis'en, we both tell him it was just some' fun-an'-games, he'll let us go. Clear?" He spoke like some military official, already planning the enemy's next move.

"How do ya' think he'll buy that?" Shiro scoffed, getting to his feet and standing with his normal slouching pose.

"We're friends, tha's how. And if ya land me in detention I'll fuck yer face off." Shiro suppressed a girlish giggle. That sounded like something Shinji would say, a bit more cryptically, likely, but Shinji-like in the same. The other appeared dead serious, his vicious blue eyes piercing his own.

"Gotcha, so whatcha called?"

"Grimmjow."

"Alright Grimmy, call me Shiro."

"Call me Grimmy again an' I'll really wreck your shit."

The rest of the story didn't matter. Even as an act, Shiro couldn't keep himself away from the dangerous Grimmjow, and he continually called him Grimmy. A few bruises later, he'd relented, and their endearing terms lasted the year. Turned out that Grimmjow couldn't get a write-up at the beginning of the year because his scholarship could've been revoked, and apparently he needed to stay in this school. Neither of them could've predicted that they'd be moving schools regardless of their records their junior year. With Shiro on Grimmy's good side, he'd met people like that slinky fucker that also reminded him of a darker Shinji, as well as the short emo whose home they now relaxed in.

"Yo, Earth to Shiro! What the hell, man?" Shiro blinked a few times, his chin on his hand before he looked up at Shinji as he leaned over the albino.

"Sorry, jus' took a lil' nap."

"Ch, jerk, totally missed the best conversation ever."

"Well, tell me."

"Oh, no, it's not that great." Shinji smiled teasingly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Shiro rolled his eyes before giving a yellow-toothed yawn. Nnoitra snickered in a way that sounded more like a signature hiss.

"Does mommy Shinji gotta put Shiro-chan to bed?"

"Ch, I'll send ya to a hospital bed." Shiro got off his stool. The vacuum stopped from the other room when he stood, drawing the young men's attention to Grimmjow reentering the kitchen.

"Good 'nuff," he grumbled, rolling his shirt sleeves down. The other boys nodded for lack of something better to say. Shiro was always one to strike up new conversation anyways.

"So Grimmy, didja see that one kid?"

"There are lots of kids here." The brawnier man huffed, not meeting Shiro's eyes. He hadn't done that all night, as a matter of fact. Shiro made a pouting guise before stomping in front of Grimmjo, putting his hands on his forearms and shaking him.

"The kid tha' looks like me! Ya know him, you tol' me about him! Ain't it weird?"

"I know, that's why I told you. I don't wanna talk about it." Grimmjow stated quite smoothly.

"But ain't it—"

"Shiro, I said I don't wanna fuckin' talk about that shit, got it!" Grimmjow snapped abruptly, locking eyes with Shiro's and boring azure holes into him. Shiro's childish grin dripped off his face, before he took a step back.

"Yeah, really weird…" He said under his breath.

"Let's go." Grimmjow said after a few moments of silence, the jingling of his keys being heard in his jeans.

"I'm with ya on that." Shinji stretched, giving an over exaggerated yawn and bumping his arms into Nnoitra purposefully. The taller boy with the white hoodie looked him over before shaking his head, a grin on his face.

"Thanks fer' lettin' us in, Ully." Nnoitra gleefully praised the shortest member of the group, who blinked his eyes longer than average instead of actually nodding. "C'mon beanie, I need a lift."

"I got'cher." Shinji grinned, twirling his keys on his fingers.

"Shin, can ya still drive me home?" Shiro looked back at his mysterious friend, who gave him the look as if he'd forgotten he was there.

"Oh, er, Nnoi was gonna let me borrow some of his shit. It might take a while." Shiro frowned, not pleased with seeing Shinji at a loss for words.

"Ch, whatever." He turned to look at Grimmjow to see him pulling a hood over his unruly hair. He remembered he must have taken his bike that probably didn't want to share it. Shinji drove him to Ulquiorra's, why the hell would his best friend bail on him for that snake bastard now!

"I will give you a ride home, Shirosaki-kun." Ulquiorra finally spoke up for the first time in a while. Everyone seemed to have forgotten he was present, or at least thought he was elsewhere in the immense home.

"I'll just walk."

"I've heard your address before; it is a fairly distant place. I will drive." Shiro shook his head, cursing Ulquiorra's good hearing and memory. He hardly even knew that Ulquiorra could drive or reach the pedals.

"A'ight, thanks." Shiro was more grateful than he sounded as Schiff got his keys off a hook, waving Shiro towards his garage.

"Good night everyone. I am glad you all decided to attend."

"Night, shorty." Nnoitra pulled the hood over his head.

"Nighty night, Yora." Shinji waved his fingers while Nnoitra also gave an upwards flick of his chin in the other's direction. Grimmjow left without a word. Nnoitra didn't even bother looking for any of his leftovers drinks, figuring some other guests probably smuggled out what they'd found and Shiro had already downed plenty of it himself. His head was throbbing now and he needed to get some sleep and take a long shower in the morning, maybe after a manly purging of the drink. Within a few moments he was sliding inside of Ulquiorra's car, a white 2009 Charger, nearly sinking in the seats. Ulquiorra took the effort of wearing his seatbelt before backing out of the garage and driving onto the main streets.

"I apologize for Jeagerjaquez's outburst, Shirosaki-kun," Shiro was jolted from a momentary nap by the sudden voice. Ulquiorra kept his liquid emerald eyes on the road, having no difficulties with traffic at this hour, but still attentive.

"Why, ya don't babysit him. Somethin' musta just crawled up his ass," Shiro reclined back in the leather seats. Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed even more than they usually were. He hit the brakes on a red light, jolting Shiro slightly. He didn't say anything about it.

"Certainly," He replied, his voice carrying some unusual tone to it. Shiro watched him continue driving as the light turned green. Within ten minutes of silence he slowed to a stop in front of Shirosaki's home. It was a simple small-family home of white and black shingles. The screen door had a few tears in it, and the lawn was undecorated, but it was otherwise quaint. It did fine, since Shiro only lived with his mother.

"Thanks Schiff." He sat up, his hip numb from his slouching position. Ulquiorra gave a nod, watching him slide out of the seat and glance back into the car.

"Be well, Shirosaki-kun," Shiro nodded slowly, shutting the car door with a quiet 'You too' before heading up his sidewalk. The car drove off slowly until he had his keys out, fumbling them into the small lock. He swallowed, and crept into the house quietly to not disturb his mom. He slipped his shoes off, at the door and peeled off the layers of clothes in his room, adding them to the pile next to his bed. He slid under the covers, getting comforting shivers from the cool sheets. They were clean and crisp, like water, smelling fresh. Mom Nel always had problems with his room smelling like "reckless teenage boy" and took the liberty of washing his sheets regularly. It was at least a sign that he wasn't alone. He told himself to shower in the morning and rid himself of the beer smell staining his bed. Mom would have to wash them again, scold him a few times, but get the job done.

His eyes drifted closed regardless of some of the regret he was feeling. Something was wrong with his friends, and he would find out just what when he found out what felt wrong about himself.

Saturday, 10 a.m.

Toshiro pushed the squeaky screen door of his grandmother's house with his shoulder and shut the wooden door behind him with a bag in his arms. She'd asked him to go to the grocery store only a few blocks away, and she insisted on bringing the reusable bags too. They were a real pain to carry and fill, but they wouldn't rip on the walk back, at least. He headed down the sidewalk of a mildly busy street lined by old residential homes and diners.

He yawned within two blocks of his home. Hitsugaya had barely gotten any sleep last night because of that damn creep! There he was, minding his own business and getting home from school, when Ichimaru-sensei was in his posh little car staring at him. Had he never seen a kid walk home before or something? Regardless, he couldn't get that damnable grin from the back of his eyelids to let him sleep in peace. He would never trust that tall man in white with the crooked smile.

Waiting for the crosswalk barely took any time at all while his thoughts were distracted with his next course of action. Ichimaru knew that Toshiro had caught him, dare he say, stalking him to his home. But what about Monday when he would have class with that monstrosity? What sort of ways can you ask "Hey, what the fuck were you doing creeping on me after school" in the middle of class? Oh, he could just imagine the look on that bastard's face all throughout class, giving him sideways glances and just plain knowing it would ruin his young student.

Within another two blocks and a crossing of a parking lot he entered the store's sliding gates. He glared at the carts, figuring that acquiring one would only get him into some embarrassing situation, like "Where's your mother, young man?" He instead grabbed a couple baskets, keeping them stacked for the while and slid the handles over into the bend of his elbow, walking further inside. Toshiro put the reusable baggies into the baskets before withdrawing the list his grandmother had written for him: Milk, eggs, bread, ibuprofen, and a few other odds and ends. The bottom of the list was Toshiro's own handwriting, adding his own little things that he needed for classes, such as a pencil sharpener or a stapler. This grocery had a decently stocked dollar section he hoped contained these things, but more importantly he wanted to get food…and watermelon.

He knew it was out of season but watermelon for him was good at all times.

Grandmother always told him to go through produce lastly, that way it says fresher and doesn't get carried around through the whole store. Hitsugaya headed to the dollar area first, finding a suitable kit that contained school supplies he'd find useful, his sharpener and stapler included. He mentally checked it off his list, going down more aisles getting the items not in the freezer sections. First basket full, he lifted it out of the second and carried it over his other elbow. He sighed, thinking about the next catch-up day he'd need to spend with Ichimaru while collecting fresh herbs for his grandmother's cooking. Would that be a good time to ask about yesterday? No certainly not. In private he would scorn him even more with tricky words and innocent attitude. He was anything but and Toshiro was determined to not buy into his act.

He took handfuls of herbs, such as cilantro and thyme, keeping them in their plastic baggies and separating them between carrots, potatoes, and heads of cabbage. Grandmother must have been planning to make a stew or salad, since her garden had yielded tomatoes that year. His grandmother could turn fresh produce into anything, really. Soon his basket was to the brim with bright vegetables and greens, even overflowing into the second. Hitsugaya's arms started to hurt from carrying the heavy baskets, but he had yet to obtain the last item—watermelon.

Hitsugaya rounded the produce aisle and approached the large cardboard enclosures that held his secret preteen love. He shuffled the baskets further onto the crook of his elbow and took a watermelon from the group. It was bright green, large, and clear of blemishes. Excellent. Toshiro tried not to think of how ridiculous he must look waddling towards the checkout with baskets swinging to his sides and a massive watermelon in his strained arms. He was sure glad the supermarket put the checkouts behind a maze of twirling get-well card racks and near-expiring candy bars. Almost there.

The fucking card stand caught onto one of his baskets. It creaked and spun loudly, surely drawing the attention of employees and customers that were nearby. Worse yet it jolted Hitsugaya forward and he pulled himself back to keep the baskets in his hands. The watermelon slipped from his loose grip and nearly hit the floor. Someone caught it in time and handed it back to Toshiro. The white-haired boy breathed a sigh of relief and untangled himself from cheesy Hallmark cards.

"Thank you," he went to take the large watery fruit back when he froze, his fingers locking up apprehensively.

"Yer a lil' klutzy, Shiro-chan," Ichimaru-sensei sneered. Toshiro glared at him and grabbed at the watermelon, but Ichimaru held it out of his reach. "I should help ya carry all this before this goes splat. By tha' look on yer face when ya dropped it I'd say ya don't want nothin' happenin' to this thing."

"Ichimaru-sensei, I'm perfectly able of checking myself out." He made another swipe for the watermelon clumsily. Ichimaru just stood back at his full height and spun around, heading to an open check-out aisle.

"So am I!" He continued to smile. Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed but followed the spindly bastard with his goddamn watermelon to the check out. Once there Hitsugaya put his baskets up onto the conveyor along with his reusable bags and took the green fruit from Ichimaru when his hands were free. Ichimaru had a basket over his arm with a few odds and ends, along with a packaged TV dinner.

"$30.74 is your total," the cashier looked at Ichimaru first, swallowing, before she took the money from the short boy next to him. Hitsugaya got his change and took his bags, determined to get the hell out of there.

"And $10.15 for you, sir," Ichimaru finished paying for his few items scary quickly, Hitsugaya hauling his bags towards the sliding doors. "Have a good day!"

"Shiro-chan, yer sure in a rush. Wouldn' want ya droppin' anythin' else." Unfortunately for Toshiro, Ichimaru had much longer legs and a lighter load than him.

"Yeah, I am in a hurry, for your information."

"Oh wonderful, I can give ya a lift then!"

"Wait, what?" Hitsugaya yelped as Ichimaru took his arm and tugged him through the parking lot. Even with his arms full Toshiro tugged back. "Let go!"

"Hm? It woul'nt be any trouble, Snowy. Yer lil' arms will get tired carryin' them bags."

"I'll scream, you know!" Toshiro pulled himself back from Ichimaru, who continued to look at him with slanted eyes.

"Ya'll what?"

"I-I said…you heard me! You can't force me in your car!" Toshiro cursed himself for stuttering. He watched Ichimaru think over his next words, but his teacher never seemed to be at a loss for them.

"Yer such a chibi," Ichimaru snaked his fingers into Toshiro's spiky hair, giving a short tug. "Don't ya think screamin' like a girl for 'er mommy would make ya look worse than me? Ya should save your screams for some other time."

He withdrew his hand and walked past Toshiro, twirling his car keys on his fingers. Hitsugaya felt a chill when he walked by, his words sinking in to the best of his knowledge. He didn't understand, but he couldn't doubt that screaming for help would be pointless.

"So are you comin', Toshi-chan?" Ichimaru sing-songed along to the beeps his car made as the doors unlocked. Toshiro turned, watching him grin as usual. He would never trust him. He lifted his bags and went to the passenger side door. "Ya're learnin' a lil, Shiro-chan."

"Shut up, Ichimaru-sensei."

The car drive was quiet. Ichimaru didn't listen to music on this drive, even though he doubted his passenger would start up conversation. He had to admit that Toshiro looked adorable out of his school uniform with the familiar scowl on his face. He always looked young and cute when he pouted, but he was young and cute either way. He'd hardly believed that he'd agree to the ride home, since he knew the general locale of Toshi-chan's residence. He probably could have walked, but that would have been inhospitable of him, wouldn't it have? Ichimaru was at the light a few blocks from Toshiro's house in a short while.

"Who do ya live with, Shiro-chan?" Ichimaru glanced to his passenger, though the short boy probably wouldn't have noticed with his slanted eyes. He glared at Ichimaru, who grinned more. He could easily find a way to get him to talk. "Toshiro-kun."

"My grandmother." Ah, worked like a charm. Ichimaru nodded, turning once the light was green.

"So, you were shoppin' for her."

"Mn," Ichimaru would take that as a yes. He pulled over next to the wooden home and creaky screen door. Toshiro got his bags and tried to open the car door, but it had auto-locked in the drive. Ichimaru sneered as Toshiro pulled the lock peg up, and he flicked his finger to relock it. Toshiro was too cute when he glared. "Don't cause too much trouble this weekend…I'll find out an' punish ya Monday."

"I bet." Toshiro sneered, unlocking the door and getting out of the silver vehicle. Ichimaru waved with his fingers, watching the short boy head up the steps, tiny arms firm at his sides with the bags of produce. Speaking of produce, he had a hostage. Ichimaru put the Kitsune in park, sliding out of his seat fluidly with the large green fruit that Toshiro had once again not had the arm space to carry. He was on the student's stoop in seconds, towering over him.

"Mah, Shiro-chan, ya fergot yer baby." He sneered as Toshiro whipped around, holding the screen door open with his heel. He looked from Ichimaru, to the watermelon, and back and forth quickly.

"Don't call it my baby," he put one armful of bags down in the path of the door, holding it up. He took the watermelon from Ichimaru quickly, but cautiously.

"Toshiro, who are you talking to?" The young white-haired boy went rigid, looking into his wooden home. Ichimaru ducked his head unnecessarily to peer into the house, seeing an elderly woman. No doubt his grandmother.

"No one, Obaasan." Goodness, Toshiro could be formal if he wanted. Obviously his grandmother spoke English, though perhaps broken.

"Ouch, Toshiro-kun, next time I'll keep yer watermelon." Ichimaru drawled and earned the darkest glare he could receive from such a pure looking child. He chuckled. Grandmother Hitsugaya came to the door and went to take the bag from Toshiro, though he refused to give it to her. She looked at him for a few moments, as if expectant. The conflicted look on Toshiro's face just filled Ichimaru's face with a grin.

"Obaasan, this is Ichimaru-sensei. He just helped me with the groceries."

"The Ichimaru-sensei you told me about, Toshiro?"

"O-Obaasan…"

"Pleasure to meet ya, ma'am," Ichimaru was as gentlemanly as he could muster, the smile creeping onto the wrinkled face proving that he was successful. He'd quite mastered the skill of getting on Toshiro's nerves, even by being friendly to his grandmother.

"Pleasure, Ichimaru-sensei. I apologize for Toshiro." Said boy had his face turning the color of the watermelon's flesh.

"Nah, I deal with him every day in class. He must be enjoyin' it if he talks to ya about it."

"I tell her about how you make me stay late for tutoring." Toshiro snapped. Grandmother Hitsugaya looked over at him with the same calming look only a grandmother could muster perfectly.

"Toshiro, you shouldn't be rude to your sensei." That seemed to hit a cord. Toshi-chan let out a loud sigh and took his watermelon further into the house to a countertop. "Have you thanked him for the help?"

Ichimaru's smile went up the meter to the level of The Grinch. Toshiro looked nearly horrified at such a small request. He gave a few nods to the older woman and avoided looking up at his English teacher, for good reason. His grin looked quite malicious.

"Have ya? Ya shouldn't lie to your Grandma, Toshiro-kun." Ichimaru quirked, working hard to hide the giggle in his voice. Grandmother Hitsugaya looked back into the dining area and had a silent exchange with Toshiro, perhaps scolding. Toshiro didn't glare daggers at Ichimaru, he glared chainsaws and machetes. He put the bags down at the counter and returned to the entrance, keeping his eyes low to avoid looking at Ichimaru. Strange, he did that a lot. It was more reason to make him.

"Thank you for the help, Ichimaru-sensei." His student gave a short bow. Ichimaru couldn't hold back a little chuckle, ruffling Toshiro's hair before he straightened up.

"Ya don't need ta be thankin' me." Ohh, the look Toshiro gave him…Ichimaru withdrew his hand before it would be sawn off, and tossed his keys idly. "Have a nice night, Toshiro-kun, ma'am."

"Thank you, Ichimaru-sensei. Take care of Toshiro for me at school." The elderly woman playfully winked. Ichimaru couldn't stifle a hearty laugh.

"I'll take good care of him." He didn't even look back, waving over his shoulder as he slunk back to his car. The squeaking screen clanked shut behind him. He got into the car and drove off, turning the volume on his radio up.

Thank you for reminding me
Of why I'm sick inside
Thank you for the venom, did
You think it would paralyze?
These scars I scratch, I tear
Are there under my skin
Where you've always been
Thank you for reminding me,
To sin with a grin

A/N: Super sorry this took forever! The OCT I was in has ended with my defeat, and though I have a job, finals this week, and another contest, I need to get this done :)

I also plan to change the titles to their English versions soon, since I work hard on choosing them. I only comment because I changed the title of this one realizing it wouldn't fit in this time frame. I hope you all enjoyed and are still being patient with me 3 next chapter I'll be getting back to Ichigo, as I had planned in this chapter, but I'd rather give you one shorter weekend chapter than a super long time-jumping chapter. Enjoy!