AN: Okay back with the new chapter! Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or it's characters.

I stood frozen, and unable to move.

He-

How?

"Oh, Ichi, I missed you so much! Why are you-" Isshin was continually smothering the figure at the door, and said figure just punched him in the face.

"Oh, shut up. You were supposed to pick me up, remember Goatface? You..."

I leaned heavily on a nearby wall and blocked out all the noises around me.

I couldn't. Everything... It didn't make sense. My Shiro... He was gone. I saw it. I forced myself to go to his funeral. The uptight suit may have covered the wounds, but I could see the damage that had been done from the casket he was lying in. His pale face, covered with random coloured spots from the too-dark makeup they tried to use to cover up the dark purple bruises blemishing his skin. His split lip and scraped hands holding a white bouquet of flowers.

But the figure in front of me was the complete opposite of all of that.

His bright orange hair radiating the sun from outside, his coffee coloured eyes and his tanned skin. All of it was the complete opposite.

And it still didn't explain how the fuck he was alive.

Said person broke through my thoughts when the excitement finally died down. "Sorry to interrupt, everyone. Fuckin' Goatface over here was supposed to give me a ride home."

Snickers echoed around the room and I startlingly realized that they all recognized this person. I quietly observed his actions and watched as his amber eyes scanned the room and finally landed on me, brows furrowing into a confused look as he took in my stance against the wall. I quickly stood up and looked away, not wanting to look into his burning gaze any longer.

The person, without another word, exhaled loudly and sat down in one of the foldable chairs at the front of the room. Isshin begrudgingly picked himself up from his puddle on the floor and got back into his normal character as our master and teacher. The entire ordeal was a bit scary, given our teacher just completely changed his attitude with a certain person. But I put it behind me, trying to focus on the lesson my masters were attempting to teach me.

I found it increasingly harder to focus, knowing that the colour copy of my love was watching me from the chairs beside us. As I went through the lesson mindlessly, I tried to gather my thoughts into some sort of conclusion.

This person couldn't be Shiro. Isshin was not Shiro's father. His father, as well as his mother, were the same ashen colour that showed on Shiro's skin. Shiro got his hard attitude from his mother, who was as tough as a nut, and his father, who he never really got to know, but knew only that he too was an albino, was known to be a bit cocky. The person sitting in the chairs was definitely not an albino, and he didn't have the same accent or character as Shiro either.

It was possible to have a lookalike, but to have one at this scale... It had to be rare.

My thoughts were again ripped from me when Yoruichi began ordering everyone to start stretching again to end the class.

After dismissing us, I grabbed my water bottle and headed towards my bag when I felt a presence behind me. I froze when I heard the familiar voice.

"Oi, why were you staring at me like I had a second head earlier?" His voice resonated behind me.

I turned to him and said, "I-I was surprised, is all. Gomen'nasai," and bowed politely before trying to turn away, only to be frozen again.

"I don't really believe that, but I guess I won't ask. What's your name?" He asked, and I turned around to face the orange headed teen and observe his facial expression. I searched, but I couldn't find anything recognizable. Just... nothing. Only his henna eyes staring back at mine.

"Uryu Ishida. You?" I held out my hand as a formal greeting this time.

"Ichigo Kurosaki." He said simply, and after seemingly observing my hand, shook it. What an odd way of doing it. Who wouldn't trust a hand shake?

"So, Kurosaki, your father is Isshin?" I questioned, trying to keep the conversation from getting awkward.

He nodded. "Yeah. He's just fucking annoying though. Used to be a bit calmer when Mom was around." My brows furrowed and he elaborated. "My mom died when I was just a kid."

"Oh." I said, a frown surfacing. "I'm sorry to hear that." He shrugged and sat back down in a chair, motioning for me to sit beside him. I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I have to get home to cook something."

He stood back up and walked over to the desk at the front of the studio to grab a sticky-note. "Here, let me give you my number." He mumbled as he scribbled a few numbers onto the paper. After shoving the pen back into some drawer, he handed me the note.

I glanced at it and stuttered, "T-thank you." He just nodded and headed to presumably go find his father. I slowly turned and exited the studio, a thousand thoughts going through my head. The only one that really stood out was "Did that really just happen?"

AN: Hey, I'm alive! I'm so sorry for making you wait again. But I hope this chapter can satisfy you until I can type up the next one. I will try to make the next one longer. Thank you for reading and happiness!

~mmbazb