Title: Tomfoolery

Summary: It was the way she looked at him, like she just saved a whole world rather than stopping a normal high schooler smoke, that made him slowly unwrap the Chappy themed bubblegum and eat it without a single complaint.

Disclaimer: Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo.

Notes: Edited on June 7, 2010 so there will be slight major and minor changes in the storyline, all for the sake of making it better, though most will be grammar errors. C:

-X-

A paper sat neatly on a desk.

Suddenly, a woman came and stamped on it.

It read in fine black ink:

Kurosaki Ichigo:

Delinquent student yet maintains his spot as the 25th smartest kid at junior level.

Regarded as a legend in his school.

Smokes.

-X-

A spiky, orange-headed boy was sitting against the fencing around the school rooftop, legs arched up and arms propped on his knees comfortably. In his right hand was a packet of cigarettes; in his mouth was a new lit up stick.

He was wearing the standard uniform of Karakura High, but with a leather jacket and faded red shades folded at the neck of his school-shirt. Along with the typical bad-boy look, he wore a facial expression which told people that he didn't give a damn, and at the same time, also stated that anyone who screwed with him would have the luck of getting their asses handed back to them on a silver platter.

There was a sudden thud at the door, signifying an unwanted visitor. Automatically, the boy scowled, his head turning from the million-dollar rooftop view to the specified unwanted visitor; a girl with jet-black raven hair.

What a change in scenery. A breathtaking view of the school's track-field to a literal smudge in his peripheral vision. Nuisance.

She wore the customary girl uniform for Karakura High, but with a white winter vest with fur linings. He snorted, rolling his eyes. Obvious rich girl.

Joy.

-X-

The woman yawned before stamping a second time on the same piece of paper.

It read:

Kuchiki Rukia:

Your ideal student.

Was adopted by a super rich family.

Can kick your ass and your friend's ass. At the same time.

-X-

His eyes followed her until she stopped and casually sat down beside him, as if they knew each other since the day they were born. She stared at the clouds of smoke he kept on breathing out, eying it with slight disgust, before entirely changing her attention towards him, finally.

"You do realize you are 20 minutes late for class." The girl began, her voice dry.

"Yup." He replied easily, smooth as silk.

"Look—" She started again, tone changing to one of determination when he sipped at the cigarette and puffed it out, entirely cutting her off. That seemed to be his objective.

The girl frowned, wondering how he put up with it. Couldn't he smell the burning stench that clouded around him, or had he gone demented from the regular intake of nicotine over the years?

"Are you aware how bitter cigarettes are?" She asked suddenly, eyes crinkling in more disgust.

"It's flavored," He reasoned, like it was enough.

"Yes, but you're smoking right in front of my face. It's rude." The girl narrowed her eyes.

"And I care?" Was his simple reply as he exhaled the smoke from his mouth, almost in a lazy-like fashion. The gray clouds drifted about, drifting and drifting until they twisted around her her face, poisoning the air she breathed.

The girl coughed, and the boy smirked.

"Asshole," She hissed, instantly grabbing the packet of cigarettes he was holding.

He gave a surprised growl. "What the hell is your problem?"

She smirked. "Not so tough without your packet of cigarettes now, are you?"

He snorted at her sentence, changing his behavior immediately and giving her a smug smile instead. "Quite the opposite, really." He drawled, and yet again directed all the smoke at her face. "Not so tough with smoke exhaust in front of your face, are you?" He countered, smirking as she made a move to wave the swirling clouds away from her face.

The girl coughed once again, the sight and smell—especially the smell— of the damned cigarette becoming too much for her. She growled, and with one swift pull of her nimble fingers, she tugged the cigarette out of the boy's mouth, throwing it over her shoulders.

He blinked, before immediately scowling at what she'd done. "Oh, so you think you're so funny? Think I won't hit a girl?"

Said girl rolled her eyes in reply and leveled her gaze at him. "You want to know what I think?"

"That you have some kind of disorder in the head?"

She scoffed at his petty comeback, but ignored it and dug into her vest's pockets instead. She took out a small, colorful pack of chewing gum. "I think you're bluffing." She said, pulling out a metallic wrapper from the pack.

"Oh really?" He replied, voice testing her.

She doesn't even spare him a glance. "If you weren't bluffing, then you would've smacked me right when I first stepped in."

"Is that what you think?"

"Absolutely. And, I also think that you're a liar." She finished, eyes finally leveling to stare at him.

Her fingers unwrap the pink gum from its metallic wrapper, and when he thought that she'd bring it to her lips and eat it, his face lurches backwards when she suddenly smacked him on the nose with it instead, a totally unexpected occurrence.

His eyes fall on the gum, pictures of rabbits on its pink surface invading his vision and, for a slight second, make him question the girl's sanity. It then occurred to him that it was Chappy the bunny that was on the gum, as in, the kids' TV show that his sisters liked to watch at 7 am.

"What. The. Hell." He slowly replied, once he got his mind around the idea.

"Chew it; it's better than smoking,"

"I don't want your shitty gum—" He made a motion to give it back to her, though she just shoved it right back to him.

"It'll help you get rid of your bad habit."

As if he didn't know that already. The boy rolled his eyes, glaring at her. Maybe he wasn't making it too clear.

"I said I don't fucking want—" He began to growl, voice irritated, only to be cut off.

"Shut up and chew, boy." She said, tone firm and final. Her eyes shone with justice.

He paused.

And maybe it was the way she looked at him, like she just saved a whole world rather than stopping a normal high-schooler smoke that made him slowly unwrap the Chappy themed bubblegum, and eat it without a single complaint.

-X-

Gym class today was mixed.

Usually, the girls were separated from the boys and the boys were separated from the girls. That was how it usually went, until the boys' P.E teacher called in sick and there were no other substitutes who could volunteer to replace him in time.

So the girls' PE teacher stepped in.

They were to run a mile in 7 minutes.

"2 minutes!" The woman yelled.

The girl with jet-black, raven hair rasped tiredly.

She sped up a bit but almost tripped, making her want to stop and catch her breath in fear of tumbling down from exhaustion.

Meanwhile, the boy with the orange, spiky hair was currently leading the way with a few guys and a couple of girls. He felt no need to stop until he reached the finishing line. He did.

The girl looked on and growled, determined to finish the fitness exam in the next minute. She stopped for a while and put her hands to her hips, panting as she counted from one to ten.

"6... 7... " She shook her head, hitting the soles of her shoes against the track before jogging slowly. "8… 9…" Her legs started to speed up, "10!" And the girl seriously ran her ass down the track. As promised, she didn't stop until she reached the finish line. She did.

"50 seconds!" The coach yelled to the remaining people.

The girl walked on, her legs feeling numb and her throat burning. She clasped a hand around her neck, scratching and rubbing vigorously as if the effects would make her throat feel better, though everything there just seemed to make her feel even worse.

The boy looked back, watching the tired girl dragging her feet along the track. He allowed himself a smug smirk at her dead-like state, inwardly thinking that it was what she deserved for forcing herself into somebody's business. Though, with a mix sense of amusement and what seemed to be a fledgling speck of pity, he decided to help her out.

Meanwhile, the girl closed her eyes, sweat rolling down her face, the blazing sun shining mercilessly on her back. She dreamed of cool air conditioner, a nice glass of iced tea, and a comfortable bed, full of pillows and ice-cream right by her side… until a flick of orange on her peripheral vision made it all disappear and just… just burn.

"I don't have the time for this." She rasped, glaring once the boy presented himself to her.

"Get on." He demanded suddenly, kneeling down so that the girl could jump on his back.

But she didn't; instead, she furrowed her brows, eyes crinkling down at his bad-boy antics in suspicion. Her heart may or may not have just begun to involuntarily beat faster. "What—"

"Do you want to just walk there or die?" The boy asked, scoffing.

"But it's too—" she sniffed.

"Just shut up and hop on, girl." His lips twisted into a scowl. Feeling like she was going to pass out soon anyway, the girl grunted and complied.

As he made his way back to the gymnasium, with her pressed up against his back, the people around them stared. Not because of simple material for new, hot gossips and juicy rumors as to why this boy was carrying this girl all the way to the girl's locker room. Were they dating? Did they like each other? No, it was none of that.

It was simply because of confusion, puzzlement, wonder: why was this badass boy carrying a perfect, nice girl all the way to the girl's locker room?

But hey, nobody even had the guts to point it out loud.