Author; Shiro hurr.

Rating; M, you'll see why.

Disclaimers; I do not own Bleach, or else Hichigo would be running around naked.(:

Ichigo walked along the sidewalk, donned in his standard school uniform, the neck of his white button-up shirt open to reveal the collar of the casual black tee beneath. His classmates flanked either side of him, which made him feel a little bit claustrophobic; people being so close made him nervous.

To his right was a girl of short stature with ebony locks and next to her was a taller teenager with long orange-red hair. Rukia and Orihime, both of whom he had met when he was an eighth-grader. Beyond Orihime's huge chest, which, Ichigo was convinced was where all the food she ate went, he caught sight of Uryuu subtly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Ichigo sniffed, he and Uryuu bickered quite a lot, but the self-proclaimed master of sewing never left the group even then.

On his left side was the extremely tall, deep bronze-skinned Chad, who he was initially acquainted with in his freshman year. Chad had effortlessly fended off some senior thugs who'd tried to pick a fight with Ichigo because of his bizarre orange hair. The carrot top smiled fondly at the memory, thinking about who unreal Chad's stamina and strength was.

Taking up the back of their group was Renji, a heavily tattooed kid with long red hair who liked to push Ichigo's buttons, Keigo, an annoying brunette who was much too enthusiastic, and there was Mizuiro, who managed to keep Keigo in check most of the time without much effort. The newest addition to their crew was Mashiro Kuna, a particularly odd girl with bright green hair. If he remembered right she was originally hanging out with some blond guy named Shinji and his gang.

Ichigo glanced over his shoulder; Keigo was attempting to make conversation with her, but he guessed from the blank expression she wore she wasn't paying any attention him. A pair of large sunglasses rested a top her green-dyed hair and instead of the usual red ribbon that that was tied under the collar of the girls' uniform blouse was an orange bandana tied loosely around her slender neck, claiming the dress code needed more color. To top it all off she had one of those faces you could never say no to.

The orange-haired boy turned his attention back to his front, Karakura High finally coming into view before the group. It was the beginning of the year, his senior year, and his last year. Not that he was going to miss school all that much. Rukia, Orihime, and Uryuu were advancing past him and further up the walkway, the four behind him following suit, but Ichigo's pace slowed as they closed in on the steps to the front entrance.

Standing on one of the steps was Grimmjow, a menacing boy with electric blue eyes and hair as crazy as Mashiro's. Congregated around him were his three slaves. Ulquiorra, an emo boy with black hair and heavy eyeliner, Nnoitora, an emaciated-looking kid who amazingly and freakishly cleared Chad's height by a few inches, and last was Szayel, who had dyed his hair a shocking pink of all colors and was always stressing about how he was most certainly not gay.

Ichigo ducked behind Chad's hulking form, scowling at the cerulean-haired teen from his friend's shoulder. He caught the wide, creepy grin that spread across Nnoitora's face as he extended a slim finger in Ichigo's direction. The tangerine-haired senior cursed under his breath, he really didn't need this right now. Grimmjow's face lifted, a quick smirk flitting across his lips. "Kurosaki!" He called, beckoning Ichigo over. He hesitated, thinking whether or not he could escape successfully. Chad stopped too, glancing at Ichigo wearily, obviously expecting the worst. The boy sighed and gestured to Chad to go on to class before balling his hands into fists and shoving them in his pockets, trudging over to his fellow schoolmates.

"Nice day, huh, Kurosaki?" Grimmjow smiled predatorily like he was an animal eyeing Ichigo as its prey. That grin made Ichigo sick to his stomach; the looks Grimmjow gave him made him feel extremely uncomfortable. "It'll be even better when I'm away from you..." He mumbled quietly almost inaudible. Nnoitora caught it though and the lanky teen edged forward, long black stands of hair falling onto the front of his face. The creep made a noise that was strangely close to an animalistic hiss, eyes dark with spite. "Nnoitora, knock it off, you're scaring the poor boy." Szayel cooed, the corners of his mouth turned upward in a smooth smile. Ichigo stared at him incredulously, fists tightening inside his pockets and wondering where in the world the pink-haired idiot got that sort of idea. He watched Grimmjow's hand lift and then still on the abnormally tall male's shoulder, stepping past him.

Before Ichigo could draw in another breath the blue-haired senior's fist collided with his gut and he tumbled backwards and onto his rear end, reaching up to grip his stomach and stare angrily at his assaulter. He watched Grimmjow cackle mockingly and then, quicker then Ichigo could react, the other's hand meshed into his hair, fingers gripping the orange stands tight and yanking him up harshly. The carrot top hissed through his teeth as pain pricked through his scalp, brown meeting blue as he glared at Grimmjow, scowling when he felt the brute's breath fan over his face.

"Remember who it is you're talking to, prick."

Grimmjow then struck him right across the cheek, catching the side of his mouth and causing Ichigo's teeth to rip open his lower lip. The larger male released him then, stepping back to survey his work with a smile that Ichigo could feel. He massaged his bloodied lip with his tongue, tasting the metallic flavor presented to his taste buds. Something hard smacked into the side of his skull; Grimmjow's foot. He doubled over onto his flank and moaned painfully, his head spinning and his vision unnaturally splotchy. Ichigo swore the blow had given him some serious whiplash. Another sharp kick met the region of his lower back and he cried out this time, then another kick and the cry resounded, then again, and again with one last kick to the back of his head. Ichigo whimpered despite himself, slowly turning unconsciously onto his back, wincing in obvious pain.

Grimmjow let out another wicked chuckle and then gave him one more kick, planting his foot straight into Ichigo's ribs. Ichigo held back the scream of agony that wanted to worm out of his throat, convulsing instead as a reaction. The older senior lowered himself, placing one knee on either side of the carrot top. His hand fisted up the boy's uniform shirt and he lifted him up to eye level. "Don't even try to fuck with me, Kurosaki." His voice was a near-snarl as he spoke bitterly. Ichigo cracked open his brown eyes, swallowing hard and ignoring the involuntary shiver of pain that traveled up his spine. "Who would want to fuck you anyway?" He retorted weakly, determined not to give in. Grimmjow gave a furious growl and punched him across his jaw, making his skull rebound off the concrete with a sickening thud.

Ichigo was dazed by the sudden crack to his cranium and then he felt the weight that was on top of him disappear and footsteps along with it. The beaten male groaned and rolled over onto his stomach, arms trembling as he attempted lifting himself. Eventually with a few minutes of trial and error he was on his feet, though very unsteady. He staggered forward some odd steps and then caught the railing, panting with effort; it hurt to breathe let alone move. With a wheeze he began to slowly walk, pushing one of the doors open to the empty hallway. Everyone was in class, he realized with a sigh of relief, also extremely pleased to see that the nurse's station was only several feet away. He trudged on, looking past the cracked door to see who was exactly sitting at the desk inside.

A man with snow white hair styled very much like his own sat there, skin paler than any he'd ever seen in his entire life. Ichigo could have cared less about how freaky the guy looked at that particular moment. He stepped past the threshold and stopped in front of the desk. The man was bent over in his chair, busily writing something down on papers and flipping back and forth through the stapled ones. "Wha' can I do for ya?" The white-haired male asked, not once looking away from his work. No reply. Ichigo was having trouble finding his voice, and vaguely wondering in the back of his mind why the floor was getting closer to his face by the second. Strong arms almost instantly caught him by his underarms. "Woah there, kid." The pale man grunted, taking all of the student's weight. "Ya need t' si' down." He was then charily and with great care sat in one of the chairs.

Ichigo gratefully slumped in the seat, brows knitted together at the stinging sensation making itself apparent near his temple. Footsteps echoed around him, then stopped, and then they homed in on his position. Ichigo clenched his fists and kept his eyes shut tight, expecting to feel Grimmjow strike him again. Something cold and soothing was pressed to the side of his head where the stinging had originated from, and he whined but did not find the will to pull away. In contrast, a warm hand cupped his cheek and he instantly flinched away. There was a light scoff before the contact was resumed once more. "Relax, kid. I don' wanna hurt ya or nothin'." The man's voice was calm, assuring. Ichigo's eyelashes fluttered and he opened his eyes, staring straight into molten gold. The pale-skinned nurse's eyes were indeed a bright yellow, but Ichigo assumed they were only contacts.

"Damn, par'ner." Ichigo frowned; it was weird hearing faculty curse. Unprofessional, really, but if he could process any amount of thought to care he wouldn't have either way. The said nurse was pressing a much needed ice packet to his injured head. He wore a long doctor's coat, which probably wasn't required for a school nurse but it did make him look more qualified, and white slacks. Ichigo inhaled deeply, the man smelled unusually sweet, almost like some type of butterscotch candy. The boy wiggled his nose a little as the albino patted his cheek thoughtfully and then removed the ice pack. He watched the white clad man stand and pass over to the sink, emptying out the ice there. "Wha' happened t' ya?"

Ichigo hardly heard that last comment, feeling something wet slip down the side of his face and disappear underneath his chin. He traced his finger up the trail and felt the orange tresses carefully and then brought his hand back to his brown gaze. There was a plentiful glob of blood on his middle and index finger. "I'm bleeding…?" He questioned softly. Grimmjow's shoe must have split his head pretty good when he was kicked. "'Sure are." The nurse breathed, wetting a paper towel and returning to his new patient. He wiped carefully at the wound, cleaning up the trail on the teen's tanned face. "Your name?" He inquired, curious yellow eyes focusing on Ichigo's bleeding lip as he gently wiped away the blood. Once the man had finished cleaning him off he stepped back and fixed his gaze on the carrot top.

"Ichigo, Ichigo Kurosaki." The boy replied, grumbling as the back of his head began to throb as well. The nurse nodded absently, and went over to a drawer, pulled out some materials and then set them on his desk. "I'm Nurse Shiro, you can jus' drop th' nurse par' though, I'm no' the type fer formality." The newly introduced Shiro stated as he left the materials alone and walked back over to Ichigo, crouching in front of him. "Tell me wha' happened, Ichigo." The boy looked down, he really couldn't think very well right now, but this guy was the school nurse and he needed to know these things. "This guy, Grimmjow, well he… Doesn't take to fondly to me, and I said something that offended him so he beat me up." He left out the fact that Grimmjow had been doing this for a long time now, ever since the blue-haired pain in the neck first arrived to Karakura High. Shiro seemed a little disgusted from the looks of it, and also looked like he was biting his tongue to hold back some profanity, rolling his head to make his neck pop with a loud crack. "Are ya hur' anywhere else?" The nurse asked. Ichigo's hand moved to his side and pressed down, the spot on his ribs was still tender and it would get worse as the next day came. "He kicked me in my lower back, my ribs and on the back of my head." The student reported, feeling on his sore back, it didn't hurt very much now, but it was sure to bruise over tomorrow. Shiro clicked his tongue and shook his head. "I'm surprised he didn' kill ya while he was at it." He chuckled in some sort of dark humor and then tapped on Ichigo's collarbone.

"Go 'head an' ge' yer shirt off, I wanna make sure there's no permanent damage an' such." Shiro explained and stood back up, fiddling with the assorted items he had placed on top of his desk. The carrot top paused, the very thought of taking his shirt off in front of stranger was a little weird. He sighed, Shiro was a nurse and any other person would have had to take their shirt off too. He unbuttoned his uniform and slipped it off his shoulders to rest on the chair he sat in. Then he gripped the hem of his black t-shirt and began pull it over his chest and head until it was resting over the armrest. Ichigo stood with great effort and with the nurse's help he made it over to the examining table and sat down.

Shiro's eyes roamed his torso and then he reached out a hand and rested his fingertips on the sore side of his ribcage. He pressed down his digits slowly. "Tha' hur', Ichi?" The pale man asked. Ichigo shook his head, dismissing the clever shortening of his name. The fingers shifted and pressed down again; Ichigo flinched and inhaled sharply. "'Guess tha' one hur'." Shiro mused and moved his stark white hand over to the teen's lower back, leaning forward to get a better reach. Ichigo was just getting a teensy bit uncomfortable with the fact that he was a little intoxicated by how sweet the man's scent was, and then recoiled away from the nurse sharply when he felt the fingers press against the spot on his back where he'd been kicked. "Don't." Ichigo grounded out, pain lighting his brown eyes. Shiro frowned at the student. "Ichigo, I'm no' gonna hur' ya, I promise." The albino insisted, but Ichigo stayed out of reach on the table.

The nurse sighed and turned away over to the neglecting materials on the table. Ichigo could hear him opening a box and then he returned, a roll of bandages in his hand. Shiro began to slowly wrap the bandage around his cranium, starting at the bleeding wound. "I wan' ya t' come back an' see me in a couple of days, make sure everything check's out okay." He announced, securing the dressings snuggly. Ichigo stared after the nurse as he turned away; he really didn't want to leave, for fear of getting even more mess up by the cerulean-haired thug's unmerciful hands. He might have seemed like a coward, but he wasn't stupid. Shiro returned with both his shirts and set them down beside the beaten teenager. Ichigo gripped the uniform top and shrugged it on, hands coming up to button it together. But he soon became frustrated with the fact that his hands were shaking excessively, out of fear or anger he wasn't sure which. His slim brows furrowed and he cursed, trying with all his perseverance to make the small button go into the opening. Then the man's pale hands were on his, the white skin smoother then he'd expected it to be. Ichigo looked straight down at the ground, a shadow cast over his face as his trembling slowed.

"Ichi," that nickname again, "wha's wrong?"

The carrot top lifted his head, staring into the man's eyes, close enough to the different flecks, shades, and hues of the iris. He faltered a bit at the intensity of the molten depths and quickly glanced away. "I-I can't leave. What if Grimmjow's out there? Like hell I'll be able to defend myself!" Shiro sighed at this, tightening his hold on the student's tanned hands, trying to calm him. "Ya can stay for one more class, Ichigo." His voice was low and soothing as he gave Ichigo's hands one last comforting squeeze before releasing them. The bright-haired teen watched the nurse sit back down at his desk and resume whatever he had been doing earlier with his papers. A ragged breath whooshed past his slightly parted lips in exasperation as he readied his hands for another go at buttoning up his shirt, but his fingers were just not cooperating as he began to tremble again. "Damn. It." Ichigo growled and let his hands fall to his thighs in surrender.

He heard Shiro's chair roll across the linoleum and over to the table he was sat on. "'Ere, lemme see." Shiro began to do each button in turn, with practiced ease. When he was done he rolled back over to the desk and immediately began to write again. Ichigo murmured an inaudible thank you and started to absently twiddle his thumbs. He felt heavy with fatigue; the beating had taken quite a lot out of him, but with all the hits to his head he wasn't sure it was exactly a wise idea to go to sleep. On a pro he did have a whole class period to sleep, but then the con was weighing heavily down on any pro. He glanced up at the back up of Shiro's head, who was still busy doing whatever it was he was doing; would the nurse wake him up? Without dwelling too much to become worried, Ichigo slowly lowered himself onto his flank, pulling his black t-shirt between the table and his bandaged head. He tucked his knees closer to his stomach, making sure his feet weren't dangling off the edge before his eyes slipped shut as he let the darkness of sleep take over.

A/N; Sooooo, what did you guys think? Nifty, if I do say so myself, but also a bit eh.

An-t-ways, I'll be frequently switching perspective between Shiro and Ichi. You'll know who's perspective it is easily.

This is mah first fic I've ever posted, so be nice, pleaaase?