Akira woke up to the sound of his ringing alarm. Groaning, he rolled over and turned the damn thing off, before a flood of memories hit him and he scrambled up, wide awake. What the fuck had just happened?! He was walking to school when he was suddenly attacked by a monster, and, and…!

Opening his phone, he froze as he saw the date.

It was the 12th.

He'd… he'd completely missed his first day at school. Oh god, Sojiro is going to murder me. It then occurred to Akira that he should probably be more concerned by the fact a ghost girl had stabbed him and turned him into some sword-wielding monster fighter. Ripping off his shirt, he paused as he realised there was no lingering mark over his heart. He just… looked the same as he always did.

Weird. Maybe it was a dream? But no, that didn't make any sense. It was far too vivid, etched in his memory even more clearly than the day he'd gotten arrested. Plus, if it didn't happen, then where the hell had his day gone? Utterly confused, Akira made his way down Leblanc's stairs.

"Oh, you're awake." Sojiro was on his own this morning, idly wiping a glass.

He arched a sceptical brow in Akira's direction, but the angry rant Akira had expected never arrived. Instead, a plate of curry was waiting for him on the table. He was a bit surprised – between his goof up with Futaba, and missing school, he'd half expected Sojiro was going to kick him out.

The old man barely seemed bothered, however. "I can't believe you seriously managed to get yourself mugged on your first day of school. You go around breaking mirrors for fun or something, kid?"

The sound of a record scratching entered Akira's mind. What the hell was Sojiro talking about? He adjusted his glasses, hoping to hide his baffled expression. "… I don't see anything fun about this."

"I suppose that's true." Sojiro sighed, pointing a finger at him. "Now, I know it's in your nature, but stop picking fights you can't win, okay? It'd be a pain in both of our asses if you got yourself expelled."

With a nod, Akira finished his food and quickly made his way to Shujin.

Just what the hell had happened yesterday?

…..

Sojiro was right – Akira was cursed. He should have known that the miraculous cover-up of his monster-hunting escapades meant that something else was going to go horribly wrong.

As he reached Shujin's gates, he glanced around, hoping to see Ryuji. He was worried about the other boy, and more importantly, wanted to know what the fuck was going on. Akira saw no trace of the blond, however, and after checking his phone one last time, gave up. He had no intention of being late, again. As he entered the school's halls, a silence immediately descended, before the students broke out into feverish whispers.

"Psst, is that him?"

"The transfer student? Yeah, I think so! Did you hear what he did?"

"He assaulted someone, right?"

"Who'd have thought… he looks so normal!"

"Those are the ones you have to look out for, right? I bet he's a step away from snapping at any moment."

"I bet he's on drugs! Why on earth did they let him in the school?!"

Akira felt like he'd been punched in the face. How – how on earth did they know?! Attempting to slow his panicked breaths, Akira gripped his bag's shoulder strap like a lifeline as he approached the faculty office. Swinging open the door, he wasted no time before he approached Kawakami.

"How do they know?" He knew he should be less direct, more polite, but fear and fury had dulled his common sense.

The teacher looked away, something guilty entering her eyes. "I'm not sure. It wasn't me though." Running a hand through her hair, Kawakami sighed. "What a mess…"

Akira felt his anger gutter out, leaving him with nothing but a sinking dread. The annoyance in her voice sounded genuine. But if Kawakami hadn't leaked his records, then who…? He supposed it didn't matter, either way. His time at Shujin had been ruined before it had even started.

Somehow, Kawakami seemed to read his mind. "This is what happens when you get yourself a criminal record, you know." She sighed again, but decided to take pity on the despondent sixteen-year-old in her office. "Look, give it some time. They'll stop gossiping about it when the next shiny new scandal pops up."

Akira could do nothing but nod mutely.

He vaguely hoped the rumours would die down day went on, but as expected, they didn't. He couldn't even get through a single class without someone muttering some new, outlandish nonsense about him. Even the teachers got in on it, with Ushimaru giving a pointed speech about how delinquents shouldn't even be at Shujin at the start of his class. By the time lessons finished, Akira just wanted to go back to Leblanc and curl up in bed. When he exited the classroom, however, a familiar voice caught his attention.

It was Kamoshida. He was talking to the blonde girl Akira had seen yesterday, who was apparently called Takamaki. The teacher was persistently offering to give her a ride home, ignoring the myriad of excuses the girl threw his way. Akira's stomach twisted. Ryuji was right – the man was a creep. It was obvious Takamaki wasn't interested, and yet he wasn't taking her no for an answer. For a moment, Akira hesitated. He didn't want to make an enemy of a teacher, especially considering his circumstances. At the same time though, what sort of person would he be if he just stood back and watched someone getting harassed?

Thankfully though, Kamoshida stepped back just before Akira moved to intervene. "Alright then – another time. Oh, one last thing… be careful around that transfer student. He's got a criminal record after all – I wouldn't want a pretty little thing like you getting hurt."

Akira's breath caught in his throat. The boy felt winded, just like he'd been sucker punched. One day, Kamoshida had been inviting him into his car, and the next, he was spreading rumours behind his back?! He barely even noticed it when Takamaki left, and the gym teacher stormed off with a scowl. It was then that an awful revelation dawned on him. What Kamoshida was the one who'd leaked his records?

"Psst, Akira!" He was snapped out of his thoughts by Ryuji's familiar voice. Turning around, Akira saw the boy leaning against the wall, attempting to look inconspicuous, and failing utterly. "Come on." The blond whispered. "Let's meet on the roof."

Ryuji quickly departed, and looking around to make sure no one was snooping, Akira followed. Shujin's roof was fairly bog-standard. Ventilation shafts poked out its top, and the wides were surrounded with loose mesh wiring to prevent any falls. A table and chairs were set up, and oddly enough, there were a few planters containing scraggly sprouts.

"Sorry about all the spy shit." Ryuji apologised, leaning back in one of the chairs. "If the teachers saw us together, we'd get an earful."

Akira paused, blinking, and the delinquent shot him a mirthless smirk.

"We're in the same boat, y'know." Ryuji explained. "I've had a fair share of bullshit said about me as well. You listen to any of the teachers and they'll tell you I'm a no-good punk. I ain't gonna judge you, record or not."

Frowning, Akira rested against one of the tables. "… You're a bit crude, but honestly? You're probably the nicest person I've met in Tokyo. The only one who hasn't treated me like dirt, anyway."

Unless you counted Rukia, and Akira was half-convinced their encounter had just been one giant fever dream. A flicker of realisation ran through him – now would be the perfect time to ask about yesterday. There was no way in hell Ryuji had forgotten about being kidnapped by what from his perspective was a giant invisible monster.

"Ryuji, about yesterday –"

"Yeah, I know right!" The youth scowled. "I can't believe those dudes tried to mug us! We're high school students! We don't have any cash!"

A bubble of dismay burst in Akira's chest. Ryuji didn't remember it either. Just what on earth was going on? If I'm the only one who remembers, it probably was just a dream. Akira fidgeted with his glasses. No need to dwell on it any further – he should just forget it happened.

Ryuji had apparently gotten bored talking about their so-called mugging and went right back to the previous topic. "Man, it's kinda sad I'm the kindest dude you've met here. Honestly, I don't think I've been called nice in my life. Got a bit too much temper for that, y'know."

This time, it was Akira's turn to frown. "That's kind of sad." A brief flicker of amusement sparked in him. "Heh. Together, we're a real tragedy, aren't we?"

"Uuuuh, if you say so, dude…?"

Actually, while they talking, there was something else Akira wanted to discuss… "Do you think Kamoshida might have leaked my record? Only the teachers knew, and I don't think Kawakami did it…"

Ryuji's eyes widened to the size of basketballs before his expression turned into a thunderous scowl. "Oh, yeah. That's the sort of underhanded bullshit he'd do."

"But why?" Akira hated how whingy he sounded, even if it was a pretty accurate representation of how he was feeling. "We've only talked once, and he seemed nice enough then!"

Ryuji rubbed his chin in deep concentration. "Hmm… I think it could be because he thinks you're a threat. Not in a physical way – he's a bigshot volleyball player, Olympic medals and all. But, well, everyone constantly sucks up to him, and the second they look away… whatever's caught their eye, he ruins it."

"But how on earth was I going to take the limelight off him?" Akira blinked owlishly. The only reason anyone was paying him any attention at all was because Kamoshida had leaked his record!

"Fucked if I know. That's the only thing that makes sense though, right?" Ryuji shrugged.

Akira frowned, a sense of disquiet entering him. "… Did he ruin something for you, too?"

For the first time since he met him, Ryuji couldn't meet his gaze. "Yeah. Yeah, he did."

Ryuji didn't elaborate, and Akira didn't push.

…..

The next day, Akira didn't bother rushing to school. Any chance of him fitting in had been thrown out the window. At least Ryuji still wanted to be friends, which was one more person than in his hometown. Sojiro hadn't been at all sympathetic when he heard the news about this record leaking, merely asking Akira what on earth he expected. Futaba had joined them again for breakfast but seemed perfectly content ignoring both of them in favour of fiddling with her phone. Akira still didn't get what her deal was, but after the chilly reception he received the last time he asked her something, he didn't pry.

When he arrived at Shujin, Ryuji was waiting for him by the school gates and greeted him with a wave. The two boys chatted on their way to class, and Akira ignored Kawakami's despondent gaze as she saw the two delinquents together. They were just exchanging phone numbers when Akira caught a glimpse of gold in the corner of his eye.

Takamaki was sitting in the courtyard, an unfamiliar girl at her side. The other girl looked… ill, for a lack of a better term. Like a sick plant, left to droop in the dark. Takamaki was clearly trying to cheer her up, expression sunny, but her friend barely seemed to react.

"… Who's that with Takamaki over there?" Akira asked.

Ryuji's shoulders slumped. "That's Suzui Shiho. Her and Ann – uh, Takamaki, they go way back."

Ann? That was odd, Ryuji hadn't seemed particularly close to her before.

The blond sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "All three of us used to go to the same elementary school. People change, though. Shiho and Ann got caught up with Kamoshida, and I… well, I also got caught up with him, but in an entirely different way."

As they passed the girls, Akira couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

"Are you sure you're alright? That leg of yours isn't looking any better…"

"I'm fine, Ann... I need to put up with it if I'm going to play in the nationals…"

Takamaki hardly looked mollified by the statement, and Akira couldn't help but feel a twinge of discomfort. Kamoshida… so much pain at Shujin could be traced right back to him. Akira felt like he was standing on the edge of an abyss, and wouldn't like what he saw if he took the plunge.

…..

Akira was too busy being plagued by thoughts of Kamoshida to pay much attention to Kawakami's morning introduction, until the teacher suddenly left the classroom. Blinking in confusion, he attempted to listen to the gossip that filled the room.

"… Wonder what she's like?"

"Hopefully, not another delinquent…"

Soon enough, though, Kawakami returned to the classroom, a short girl in a Shujin uniform trailing behind her. As the girl turned to face the class, however, Akira's jaw dropped in shock, and it took all of his self-restraint to stop himself from toppling out of his chair.

"Good morning, everybody! My name is Kuchiki Rukia, and it is an honour to meet you!"

Akira's brain short-circuited. What the actual fuck? What was she doing here?! Why could everyone see her?! He could do nothing but watch, jaw hanging, as Kawakami directed her to a seat near the back of the class. On her way to her seat, Rukia subtly slipped a note onto his desk.

Make a scene and you're so dead.

Suffice to say, Akira couldn't concentrate in class. Rukia's presence was like a looming spectre over his shoulder, and a thousand questions bubbled up in the teen's mind. By the time the lunch bell rang, he was practically vibrating in his seat. Instantly, he grabbed Rukia's wrist and dragged her up to the roof, sending Ryuji a quick text that he'd be late.

"A boy, and girl, and a rooftop. Oh my. I didn't take you for the romantic sort." Rukia fluttered her lashes.

Akira opened and closed his mouth. "Uh… no. You damn well know why I brought you here."

"Of course." Rukia waved a hand dismissively. "But that is what a normal teenage human boy would bring a normal teenage human girl to a place like this for, right?"

He shrugged. "Sure, I guess...?"

The Shinigami looked extraordinarily pleased. "I knew it! I spent the whole night researching human culture – not bad, eh?"

Akira decided that was one rabbit hole really not worth stumbling into. "Um. Sure. So, care to explain what the hell is happening here? What was that monster? What on earth is a Shinigami? Why does everyone think I was mugged?"

Rukia withdrew a notebook from her schoolbag, along with some markers. "Patience, Kurusu. I'll explain it so even a child like you could understand. In this realm, there are two types of souls."

She held up her notebook. She'd split the page in half – one containing a picture of a cartoon rabbit surrounded by hearts, and the other a bear surrounded by lightning bolts. Akira was pretty sure he'd been a better artist aged five.

"The first type are called 'Wholes', normal spirits. I assume you've probably seen plenty of them?"

Akira nodded. "They're the ones that have the chains dangling from their chests, right?"

"Exactly." She then pointed to the other half of the page. "The other type, we call Hollows. They attack the living and the dead indiscriminately, and devour their souls. That was what you encountered two days ago."

Akira felt himself turning green. They ate souls?! A shudder ran down his spine – he had no idea spirits could even get hurt, let alone eaten. Sheesh.

"Thank god you turned up when you did." He shook his head. "We would have been toast, otherwise."

Much to his surprise, Rukia's expression turned conflicted. "Do not thank me… truthfully, I should have slain that Hollow well before you encountered it. I suppose now is a good time to tell you about the Shinigami."

Akira watched in intrigue as Rukia doodled some more diagrams. "Shinigami are envoys from the Soul Society, the land where souls go to rest. We have two principal duties – sending souls to the Soul Society via Konsō, and annihilating Hollows."

Konsō? Akira was intrigued. He'd never figured out the when and whys of how ghosts moved on. He never would have thought it was because funny people in kimonos were somehow guiding them to the other world.

The Shinigami bit her lip. "Truthfully, I was alerted to the presence of that Hollow the previous night, but I lost its trail after I had to purify souls from that train accident. If I hadn't, you never would have been in danger…"

He shrugged. "Don't worry about it. It all turned out alright in the end, didn't it? Besides, you got hurt far more than Ryuji or I did. I'm just happy to see you're alright."

Rukia's expression turned unreadable. "Hmm. You're awful blasé about this."

"Honestly? I'm more concerned about why no one remembers anything. Even Ryuji thinks we were mugged."

"Oh, that?" Rukia blinked. "Here."

Scrounging around in her pockets, the Shinigami withdrew a small metal container, about the shape and size of a cigarette lighter. Flicking open its lid, the head of a bird on a spring popped out, along with a cloud of smoke. A wave of giddiness passed over him, but it passed as soon as it came.

"It's called a Kiokuchikan." She explained. "It erases memories and replaces them with substitutes. It would be a disaster if humans found out about the spiritual world, after all. It uses the target's subconscious to develop a plausible cover story, and can then spread that memory to other people. I used it yesterday to explain your unconsciousness."

Akira frowned, something uncomfortable stirring within him. Sure, Sojiro and the school thinking they'd got mugged was pretty handy, but didn't Ryuji deserve to know the truth? He'd almost been killed, after all.

"… Well, I guess that answers all of my questions. Thank you for coming to tell me?" It seemed like a lot of effort on her behalf just to give him a heads-up, but Akira appreciated it nonetheless.

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm not here just to teach you Shinigami 101!" Rukia huffed, placing her hands on her hips.

"Oh." Akira blinked. "What's wrong?"

"You! You're what's wrong!" The diminutive girl poked him in the chest. "That night… you didn't just take half my powers, but all of them! I can barely cast any Kidō, and I'm stuck in this ridiculous Gigai!"

The statement had very little impact, given Akira didn't know what either of those words meant. "Um. I'm sorry? I can transfer them back, if you want?"

He wasn't really keen on the thought of stabbing her, but if needs must…

The Shinigami just sighed. "There's no point. The process requires both participants to have a certain quantity of Reiatsu, not to mention you have no idea what you're doing. No, we only have one option… until I regain my powers, you must take my place, and protect the city of Shibuya!"

Akira couldn't help but gawp. The statement was so out of left field, it pretty much knocked him into the stratosphere. It was as if the second he'd stepped into Tokyo, he'd hopped on the world's weirdest rollercoaster. One minute, he was the delinquent transfer student, and the next, a strange ghost girl wanted him to battle undead monsters?

"But… I don't know how to be a Shinigami."

Rukia rolled her eyes. "Calm down, Kurusu. I'll help."

Akira pursed his lips, mulling things over. A part of him was terrified at the thought of facing another monster like that, but at the same time… if Rukia hadn't been there, he and RYuji would probably be dead. What if he said no, and someone else got killed instead? That wasn't even getting into how Rukia had almost sacrificed herself to save him. Akira surely owed her this, at the very least.

"I'll do it. On one condition." He stated. "I want you to restore Ryuji's memories."

"E-excuse me?" Rukia blinked, stunned. "You want me to what?"

"Restore them." He shrugged. "It feels kinda scummy to me messing with someone's mind like that. Plus, he's my friend. I don't want to keep any secrets from him."

Rukia still looked absolutely mystified. "… Very well then. If those are your conditions, I accept."

…..

Ryuji couldn't help but fidget as he waited by the school gates. When Akira had texted him saying he was busy at lunch, it had felt like a punch to the guts. Ryuji really thought he'd connected with the guy, yet, he'd been ditched the very next day.

Maybe he found out about the track team and didn't want to get caught up with the violent son of a violent lout.

Thankfully, as he headed back to class he saw Akira had messaged him again, asking to meet on the roof after school. Ryuji had raced up there, only to see some girl in a gym uniform had beat them to the punch. At least he knew who the hell was watering those planters now. The roof being a no-go, Ryuji had told Akira to meet him at the gates instead. Hopefully, the other teen would be there soon. Ryuji had never been very good at waiting. Much to his relief, he quickly caught sight of a familiar mop of black hair. His excitement was totally crushed when he saw Akira wasn't alone, however.

"Hey, what's the deal man?" Ryuji blanched. "You ditched me for a girl?!"

Akira sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It's a bit more complicated than that. Ryuji, this is Kuchiki Rukia. Kuchiki, this is Sakamoto Ryuji."

Ryuji eyed the girl sceptically. It wasn't like he had problems with the idea of hanging out with girls in general, unlike some people he knew. Hey, Ryuji loved women. The real question was why would some random chick want to hang out with the school's biggest troublemakers? It wasn't like she looked particularly tough – she was so titchy, a slight breeze could knock her over.

Kuchiki, meanwhile, gave him a deep bow like he was some kind of feudal warlord. "How wonderful to meet you, Sakamoto-san! How do you do, kind sir?"

Ryuji cast a sceptical look at Akira, getting more freaked out by the minute. "Dude, is she okay?"

He mustn't have been quiet enough, however, as a flicker of immense irritation crossed Kuchiki's face – she looked about two seconds away from breaking his kneecaps. What the hell, it was preferable to whatever saccharine bullshit that greeting was.

Akira, meanwhile, looked like he was at the end of his rope. "It's complicated. She knows some things about the muggers who attacked us."

"For real?!" The blond gaped.

"Yeah. Do you know someplace we could talk? It needs to be private, and I mean private."

Ryuji mulled things over. Normally, for serious shit, he'd go to the rooftop, but that was no longer an option. The ramen shop was also right out if they needed to be alone-alone, and so was the courtyard. He supposed there was his house, but he didn't want some strange girl to see his room. Plus, it was a Tuesday afternoon – his mum would probably be home.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Nah, sorry man. The roof's all I have."

Akira bit his lip, consternation shining in his eyes, but Kuchiki suddenly perked up.

"Oh, I know! Why don't you take us back to your humble abode, Kurusu?"

He shuffled awkwardly. "I dunno… I'll have to ask Boss. I'm not sure if he'll let me have visitors."

Kuchiki looked vaguely confused, but Ryuji just felt excited. "You live in a café, right? Dude, I'd love to see it! I bet you get great food all the time!"

Akira mulled things over. "… Sojiro does make a mean curry. Here, I'll text him."

The wait was excruciating, but eventually, Akira gave them a thumbs up.

"He doesn't mind, as long as we keep things down. There shouldn't be too many customers until the dinner rush."

The train ride to Yogen-Jaya was, well, weird. Akira seemed to know where he was going, for someone who'd only been here for a few days, but Kuchiki was acting like she'd never been in a subway before.

"Are you sure these places aren't designed to punish people?" She mused. "No… perhaps they're made to keep out invaders. Dark, twisting tunnels, designed to disorientate and bewilder… truly, a torturous experience…"

It was official: Kuchiki was the weirdest person he'd met in his life.

Thankfully, they arrived at the famous café Leblanc sooner rather than later. It looked a bit old-timey, but then again, the whole suburb was like that. When the trio entered the café, it was practically empty aside from an old man in a pink shirt behind the counter.

"So, these are your friends?" Sakura Sojiro raised a sceptical brow in their direction, and Ryuji couldn't help but gulp. It was unreal how much judgement this guy could put into his stare.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, kind sir!" Rukia gave him a ginormous curtsey, positively sparkling with some bizarre, incomprehensible feminine energy. It freaked Ryuji out just thinking about it. "Kurusu was just telling me all about how you saved him from a life of penury, taking him in out of the kindness of your heart, despite his deeply disturbed behaviour."

Akira looked like he was about to spontaneously combust, and Ryuji couldn't help but shudder. Dear god, she was almost as bad of an actor as Ann was. (Used to be? He wasn't sure anymore).

Sojiro however looked completely taken in by Kuchiki's act. "My my, where'd this delinquent find a nice girl like you?

"A dark seedy alleyway." Akira's response was perfectly deadpan. "… Now that I think about it, I found Ryuji in one of those too."

Kuchiki stepped on his foot, and Sojiro looked torn between annoyance and mirth at their antics. "Oh, get upstairs, you three. Now remember, keep it down!"

Ryuji buzzed with excited energy at finally getting the opportunity to see his new friend's digs, but when he entered Leblanc's attic, he did a double-take. It looked more like a storage shed than a room – all sorts of junk was shoved into the corner or hidden under plastic drapes. Aside from the makeshift bed in the corner, it… well, it looked like an attic, not a bedroom.

Akira chuckled at their stupefied reactions. "Home, sweet home."

"… It's certainly fascinating." Kuchiki's tone indicated she wasn't quite sure if she was disturbed or genuinely intrigued. "Where on earth do you put your clothes? On the plant?"

Given the plant looked supremely dead, Ryuji was pretty sure it'd break under a pair of underwear, let alone two.

Akira laughed. "God no. All my stuff is in my suitcase."

Kuchiki wrinkled her nose, eyeing the bag dubiously. "Are all residences in this city so… uniquely furnished?"

"Dude, of course not." Ryuji sighed. Christ, had this woman hit her head on a rock or something?

"It'll do." Akira shrugged, gesturing for them to take a seat. "Besides, we've got important things to talk about. Kuchiki-san, if you would?"

"Very well." She sighed, and withdraw something from her pocket. A lighter?

Before Ryuji could ask what was going on, she flipped open the lid, and out popped a duck-shaped head with a plume of smoke. The second the smoke hit him, Ryuji felt a wave of dizziness, and – and HOLY SHIT –!

Kuchiki was fucking fast, and managed to wrap a hand around Ryuji's mouth before he screamed.

"Quiet!" She snapped, good-girl act evaporating. "Do you want Sakura-san to hear you?!"

Ryuji shook his head, and after a moment's hesitation, she released him, clearly deciding he was no longer a threat.

"Dude, what the fuck?" He hissed at Akira, careful to keep his voice low, despite his internal screaming.

The boy gave him a nod of commiseration.

Ryuji turned back to face Kuchiki, mind whirling a mile a minute. "Are you – are you with the Men in Black?!"

Kuchiki blinked, clearly baffled, but Akira just shook his head. "Don't worry. We'll explain…"

…..

"Your drawings fucking suck."

Kuchiki pegged a marker at him, and Ryuji yelped as it pinged off his forehead. Ow! That hurt, goddammit!

"Imbecile! Kurusu had no trouble interpreting my masterpieces!"

"I dunno much about art, but I'm certain those ain't masterpieces!" The blond snapped back in return.

Akira sighed, breaking up the argument. "Calm down, you two. Kuchiki-san, if you're… an artist, you'll need to learn how to take constructive criticism."

"That wasn't constructive!" Kuchiki complained.

Akira just ignored her. "And Ryuji…"

"Yeah, yeah." He sighed. "I need to learn not to put my foot in my mouth."

"Why would you do that?" Kuchiki blinked, fascinated. "That's disgusting."

If Ryuji was having any trouble believing Kuchiki was some bizarre ghost hunter sent from – shit, heaven, he guessed – that statement would have killed all his doubts.

"It's just… a saying, man." Ryuji sighed, rubbing the back of his head.

But boy, oh boy. When Akira said he wanted to talk to him, Ryuji never would have thought it'd be about something like this! Ghosts were real! Ghost monsters were real, and one had apparently tried to eat him! The new transfer student was, surprise, surprise, also a ghost, and could zap people's memories right out of their brains! He'd thought Kamoshida's increasingly escalating shittiness was all he'd have to deal with this year, not any of this supernatural crap!

His buddy clearly interpreted Ryuji's stunned silence as something else, however. "… You do believe me, right?" Akira frowned.

"Of course I believe you!" Ryuji gasped. "An invisible monster abducted me!" In fact, he was pretty sure his ribs were still bruised.

The relief on Akira's face was palpable, and Ryuji couldn't help but feel bad. Here he was, entrusting Ryuji with his greatest secret, and Ryuji couldn't even do the same in return.

A sudden thought then occurred to him. "Do you think you could use your powers to do something about Kamoshida?"

Akira blanched. "I'm not stabbing him!"

"What, dude, no, not that!" Ryuji panicked. "Just, I dunno… can't you use ghost-magic on him, or something?"

Kuchiki scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous! The Provisional Spirit Law forbids Kidō use on humans without extenuating circumstances!"

Damn. That was a bummer.

As Ryuji sighed, Kuchiki watched him, curious. "I must admit, I was sceptical when Kurusu wanted me to restore your memories, but you're taking this far better than I thought you would."

Trust me, I'm freakin' out on the inside. Ryuji however just shrugged. "Honestly man… I think I'm still just processing it." He pursed his lips, as a trickle of worry entered his stomach. "Hey, is there any way a normal person can fight back against those things? I don't want to be Hollow-chow if another one of them rocks up."

Kuchiki shuffled uncomfortably. "I… don't believe so. Honestly, I doubt you have much to worry about. I believe the Hollow that attacked you was after Kurusu."

Akira wheezed, flinching like he'd been struck. "E-excuse me?!"

The Shinigami just shrugged. "Hollows almost always attack other spirits. They're drawn to Reiatsu – spiritual energy – and even the weakest Whole tends to have more than your average human. Sakamoto-san doesn't have enough to be a viable target. You, on the other hand…" Kuchiki sighed, scratching her cheek. "Truthfully, I'm surprised you managed to make it this long unscathed. Shibuya has a low Hollow rate, but all large settlements attract them…"

Akira inhaled, skin sheet white. "… I only moved to Shibuya earlier this week. My old town had less than ten thousand people living in it."

A tense silence filled the room at that statement. Holy shit – is Akira only still alive because he lived most of his life in the middle of nowhere?! The boy had dodged a bullet, not even realising he was facing a loaded gun.

…..

Sakamoto departed shortly afterwards, deep in thought. Rukia hadn't expected much from the boy based on his demeanour, but all things considered, he'd been remarkably level-headed about things. In a way, there was something about him that reminded her of a younger Renji – one who hadn't yet been worn down by the harshness of Inuzuri. Idly, she thought that perhaps in another life, they would have gotten along.

But then again, it's not like she knew who Renji was these days. She hadn't seen her former friend in nearly half a century. She certainly wasn't the same girl she had been during their brief shared stint in the academy.

She wasn't even the same girl she'd been fifteen years ago.

With a shake of her head, Rukia flushed the maudlin thoughts from her mind. As aggravating as her situation was, perhaps spending some time playing human would be a good breather, unplagued by noble politics or the gaping hole in the 13th. She had other things to focus on – Kurusu's training, the enigma that was Shibuya city, and her attempt at masquerading as your average high schooler. Speaking of, Rukia wanted to get onto the former, stat. She had planned to start his lessons with Zanjutsu, probably the most important skill in taking down lower levelled Hollows (and more importantly, the quickest to learn). In light of their previous conversation and Sakamoto's involvement, however, Rukia had a different plan in mind.

"Well then, Kurusu… are you ready for your first Shinigami lesson?"

Rukia thought he might have raised a brow, but it was hard to tell behind the light reflecting off his glasses. "Uh, sure."

With a nod, Rukia slipped on the red glove that a dubious salesman had informed her was a Gokon Tekkō, then decked him right in the face. Much to her relief, Akira's soul burst out from his body, and the now empty vessel toppled to the ground in a heap. As it landed on the floor with a thump, Akira's calm façade was broken. He gawped, staring between the black kimono his spiritual form was wearing, and his vacant human body that was sprawled on the floor.

"Come on, Kurusu." Rukia stood up, dusting off her skirt. "Let's go."

"Won't Sojiro panic if he finds, well, that?" Akira gestured towards his mortal body, which was very much not breathing.

With a sigh, Rukia hefted it up, staggering under its weight. A flash of irritation ran through her. With access to her powers, she'd have no problem lifting something as heavy as this. Still, she succeeded in lugging it onto his bed, and ultimately decided Akira's body looked enough like it was sleeping. Honestly, though, she doubted Sakura would care that much about Akira's state, whether living or dead.

The duo departed Leblanc, Rukia being careful to give Sojiro her best polite modern high schooler farewell, which elicited a warm chuckle from the older gentleman, and a nonplussed frown from Akira. Walking down the streets, she found a nice, secluded alcove along Yongen-Jaya's main road.

"Here. This will do."

She gestured for Akira to follow her, and the teenager stopped fiddling with his Zanpakutō, and joined her as she rested against the concrete wall.

"Won't people notice you talking to me?" He queried.

"Not unless they have some spiritual awareness. Those without Reiatsu subconsciously filter out its presence. It's why most people don't notice Hollows until they strike, even if they're affecting the physical world around them." She explained. "As long as I'm exuding some Reiatsu, or are in your general vicinity, normal humans won't notice us."

Luckily, Kurusu was an attentive listener and accepted her words with a nod.

"Speaking of Reiatsu, that will be part of our lesson today. One of the first things any Shinigami learns about is the three R's!" Rukia raised several fingers. "Reishi, Reiryoku, and Reiatsu!"

Lowering two of them, she continued her speech.

"Reishi are the particles all spiritual entities are made of. Wholes, Hollows, Shinigami – in fact, the Soul Society itself is entirely made of Reishi."

Akira nodded along, rubbing his chin. "Okay, I'm following."

"Good. Now, next is Reiryoku, in other words, spiritual power." Rukia lowered one finger and raised the other. "It is the source of a Shinigami's abilities. By using it, we are capable of performing physical acts far greater than that of any human, along with techniques such as Kidō."

"What's that?" Akira interrupted. "You've used the word a few times.

"The demon arts – a form of spellcasting."

The lanky teen cocked his head. "Huh. I suppose Ryuji was right about the ghost-magic."

Rukia rolled her eyes. "Anyway, the final R is Reiatsu, the energy emitted by one's Reiryoku. Most spiritual beings can sense it to some degree."

Akira straightened his stance. "And that's why the Hollow targeted Ryuji and me."

"Exactly." She nodded. "For our first lesson, I want to focus on sensing and controlling your Reiatsu. Yours will feel like a Shinigami's now, so it's unlikely Hollows will go out of their way to attack you, but it's still possible. Plus, minimising how much you emit would be the best way to avoid a repeat of the Sakamoto incident."

He pondered her words solemnly. "Sounds good to me. I don't think anyone wants that."

"Let's start with Reiatsu perception. Firstly –"

Akira raised a hand, breaking her off. "I think I have some idea on how to do that already." He confessed. "When I concentrate, I can sort of sense people's aura – it feels kinda like candlelight. When I first arrived at Shibuya, there was so much of it I felt faint. That's Reiatsu, correct?"

Rukia beamed, hands on her hips. It was almost a pity their partnership was likely to be short – if he had the time to study it, she was certain he'd be half decent at Kidō.

"Bravo! While most humans and Wholes will feel similar, Hollow and Shinigami Reiatsu is far more distinct. There's something acrid about Hollow Reiatsu, and Shinigami Reiatsu is different for each individual."

Peering at her, Akira's eyes narrowed. "Now that you point it out, yours feels a bit more… cold than normal, I guess?"

Pride flickered in her chest, and she gave a nod. "Good observation. The best way to control your Reiatsu is to understand it. Turn your senses inward. What do you see?"

Closing his eyes, Akira placed a hand on his chest and wrinkled his nose in concentration. "It's… like a burning, blood-red flame, but without any heat."

Rukia nodded. "Now, you need to make that flame shrink. Try to control that energy, and compress it. Visualising it will probably help."

Slowly, but surely, Akira's Reiatsu began to drop, until it was almost indistinguishable from your average human's. He pursed his lip. "Is this better? I don't think I can get it much smaller, plus it's still too red."

"No, no, that's perfectly acceptable!" She assured him. It wasn't exactly like he possessed that much Reiatsu, but Akira had done a fair sight better than most beginners did. Renji certainly wasn't nearly as skilled at compressing his Reiatsu when they'd first started at the academy – it had been the only area she'd easily surpassed him in. "You won't be able to change the 'redness', anyway." Rukia continued explaining. "There's Kidō that can mask it, but nobody can change the feel of their Reiatsu."

The tension in Akira's shoulders released, and a lopsided grin crossed his lips. "That's a relief. One less thing for me to worry about."

Rukia rolled her eyes, but there was affection behind the act. Akira's calm, yet irreverent attitude was refreshing, especially in comparison to the Kuchikis' cool disdain, or the strained smiles (or blatant sneers) of the 13th Division.

Distracted, her eyes drifted to the sky. The spring showers had cleared up, leaving a brilliantly red sun that was beginning to dip below the horizon. It was getting late. Rukia still needed to sort out some accommodation, anyway. She doubted she'd be able to get away with crashing on a rooftop much longer – she wasn't emitting enough Reiatsu of her own for that. There wasn't any room in Akira's so-called bedroom for her to crash there, unfortunately, but there was another idea that crossed her mind…

"I believe that's enough for today." Rukia concluded. "Try to practice both your sensing and your control. If you lay back down on your body, your soul should re-enter it."

Akira's mood grew far more pensive at that, and much to Rukia's enjoyment, he demanded her phone number in case something went horribly wrong. Much to her unenjoyment, he burst out laughing the second he saw her Denreishinki. Honestly, she didn't understand what was so wrong with a flip phone!

She'd never understand humans.

…..

When Sakamoto and Akira grumbled about Kamoshida on their way to school that morning, Rukia had thought it was just the idle chatter of two schoolboys with a bone to pick against anything even vaguely resembling authority. She would soon be proven wrong.

"As you all know, today is the volleyball rally." Kawakami-sensei announced once the class settled.

After giving a quick run-down of what the rally would entail, she ushered them off to the changing rooms. Akira and Rukia headed to them together, and after donning their red jumpsuits, joined up with a sullen Ryuji. As the trio made their way to the gymnasium, pointed whispers echoed in the halls around them.

"Shit, it's Kurusu! Come on, let's get out of here!"

"… Of course he'd start hanging out with Sakamoto of all people." Some boy chimed, venom in his voice.

"Who's that girl with them?"

Rukia froze. There'd been a comical amount of patently ridiculous rumours flying around about Akira, but this was the first time she'd been mentioned.

"Dunno, another new transfer student, I think? Probably doesn't know who they are, poor thing."

"Or maybe she's just some slut with a taste for 'bad boys'. Proper girls don't hang out with delinquents."

The words hit Rukia like a slap to the face. It wasn't anything she hadn't heard before. Plenty of noble brats thought no one from the outskirts of the Rukongai could have ever gotten into the prestigious Shin'ō Academy without sleeping their way in. Even Renji got comments like that sometimes, and he was a boy. When she was first adopted into the Kuchiki, the snide remarks had reached a frenzy, but once the memory of her origins faded, the slander did too. It had been decades since she'd been insulted in such a way. What rattled Rukia almost as much as the words however was the context. All these humans were the same – what reason did they have to engage in such bile? There were no Noble Clans or Rukongai children here. Their souls were the same, nothing but droplets of rain in the flowing river that was the World of the Living.

A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Hey, are you alright?"

The girl who'd stopped her looked vaguely familiar – Rukia thought she was a member of their class. She was beautiful, if not in a traditional way. There was more genetic diversity in the Soul Society than in Japan itself, so while her blonde hair nor blue eyes would individually garner much attention, there was something in her facial features that marked her as distinctly foreign.

"Look… just ignore them, okay?" The girl smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. In fact, now that Rukia was paying attention to it, despite her initial appearance of beauty, she looked… worn. There was tension in her shoulders, and half-covered rings under her eyes. "The Shujin gossip mill is pretty vicious, but they'll move on to the next thing soon enough."

Rukia scoffed, but her words sounded hollow, even to her. "Really, it's ridiculous. Everyone here's just a child. There's nothing interesting about any of them, good or bad."

The girl's eyebrows quirked as if she wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or bemused. Rukia, meanwhile, glanced back over her shoulder, and noted in displeasure she'd lost sight of Akira and Sakamoto.

"Fantastic." Rukia muttered, cursing her lacklustre height. "Say, mind showing me the way to this 'gymnasium' place? I seem to have lost my escorts."

"No worries. It's… Kuchiki-san, isn't it? I'm Takamaki Ann." The blonde gave her a slight bow, and Rukia fell into place beside her as they wove through the crowds.

"Indeed – Kuchiki Rukia, transfer student. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Takamaki gave her a soft smile before her expression turned more contemplative. "Why are you hanging out with those two, anyway? Don't get me wrong – I know Ryuji means well, and Kurusu seems normal enough, but they're not going to make your time here any easier."

"They're unique."

"I thought you said none of us were special?"

"They're exceptions." Rukia shrugged.

Takamaki cycled through several different facial expressions again, but declined to comment. Eventually, they reached a large hall, with a high ceiling and lacquered floors. Judging by all the students sitting down they must have reached their destination. Thankfully, it didn't take long to find Akira and Sakamoto. His ridiculous hair was truly useful – perhaps that was why he styled it that way?

"Thank you for guiding me, Takamaki-san." Rukia bowed deeply at her escort once they'd reached the boys.

The blonde blinked, lips quirking slightly. "Uh, no worries? I've gotta say, you are way too formal for someone who's hanging out with Ryuji. Later!"

Ignoring Ryuji's muffled 'hey!', Takamaki departed with a wave, joining the side of a slender girl with a leg brace. Next to Takamaki's vibrant light, she was as washed-out as a corpse.

Akira gave her a quick apology for losing her, but grew quiet as the volleyball teams emerged. Kawakami had explained it was supposed to be a friendly match between Kamoshida's staff team, and the Shujin boys' volleyball club. Rukia had spent some time studying the sport – after all, Shujin was famous for it – and she was interested to see it in person. As the game progressed, however, Rukia felt her curiosity warp into something grimmer. Of course, the adult team were inevitably going to win, but something felt… wrong. It wasn't that the boys were playing that poorly. As far as she could tell, their technique was fine. Their problem was that they were slow – not in a hesitant way, but an exhausted one. When she looked closer, she could pick out mottled bruises along their limbs, accompanied by the occasional bandage. It was almost as if they'd played several games immediately before the big event.

Something uncomfortable settled into her stomach when Kamoshida spiked the ball with so much force it sent a boy stumbling to the floor. When several minutes later, he whacked that same ball into the boy's face with a wet crunch, Rukia couldn't help but flinch. Kamoshida ran over, concern glimmering in his eyes, but it did little to prevent the twist in Rukia's guts as she caught sight of blood dripping down the boy's face. Instead of cancelling the match in a show of good faith, once the boy was dragged off the field, Kamoshida returned to the field like nothing had even happened.

"Bastard…" Sakamoto growled. "The sooner he pays, the better."

The thing that rattled her most though was that Sakamoto was one of the few students who'd even reacted to what happened. Asides from Takamaki – the girl next to her must have left sometime during the match – nobody else even seemed phased.

This… this was meant to be a human school. A nice, relaxing break from the web of political intrigue and social hierarchy that strangled the Seireitei. And yet, between the casual cruelty, blatant bullying, and unnerving atmosphere in the air… it was like she almost hadn't left.

There was something deeply wrong with Shujin Academy, and Rukia didn't think it was a Hollow.

First of the lore changes here: namely, I'm making it so average humans won't notice anything exuding enough Reiatsu even if it's got a physical form. I've added this in since otherwise, in this digital age the masquerade would have been broken loooooooong ago. There is no way something like the Kon incident wouldn't have gone viral for one, and I don't think there's anything the Gotei 13 could do about that no matter how much mind-wiping they tried to use.