WARNINGS: Language, OOC, set in the time period after the Aizen arc and before the Fullbringer arc

DISCLAIMERS: I don't own Bleach or its characters, for they all belong to the almighty Tite Kubo.

The first thing I noticed in her was color.

The light golden brown of her skin. A warm and healthy tan. The shade that people requested when they went into tanning salons. A testament of her daily ritual of waking up at the crack of dawn to jog. A little reminder that she was no dainty and delicate damsel in distress because no way in hell was she going to stay cooped up in a dark tower or cellar, waiting for a prince to save her.

Before this, I had always thought her eyes were black but if you got close enough or if the light hit her a certain way, it would become clear that they were a dark brown. Like chocolate. Much darker than mine, anyhow. And if you were fortunate enough to get really close to her (or unfortunate enough, since getting that close usually meant taking a fist to the face), you could pick out the little black flecks in the middle of all that brown.

Black. Her hair was a shiny, soft black. Darker than night, or ink, or obsidian, onyx- any of those fancy stones. Darker than anything I had ever seen in my life.

And here's the one that really threw me for a loop: pink. Her lips were the exact middle of red and pink. The color of some sort of flower. They were so pretty and feminine, which were two words I had never thought I would associate with her, but they looked as natural on her as clouds in the sky, or leaves on a tree. I just wanted to touch them and kiss them. I had seen other girls at school with lipstick on before with all these weird colors of pink, red, orange, purple, black and I don't even remember but none of them looked as pretty as she did now.

Golden tan, chocolate brown, midnight black, and pinkish red. I remembered thinking that all those colors belonged somewhere sunny and beautiful, like Hawaii, instead of quiet little Karakura.

We're twelve years old and hanging out at the dojo when this happens. I don't know what suddenly made me really stop and look at her but now that I was looking, I couldn't not see her. Don't get me wrong- by then, I had known her for years and, duh, of course I had seen her before but it was like all of a sudden, I am actually looking at her. As if all this time, there was a filter in between us and then it just vanished, leaving everything brighter and sharper than it used to be.

Does that make sense?

I don't even realize I am staring until she catches me.

"What are you looking at, doofus?"

"Nothing. What are you looking at?"

She rolls her eyes and smiles, which is when I notice she has dimples.

As cliche as it sounds, my heart skips a beat for the very first time. For all the books I read and vocabulary I knew as one of the top students in the grade, the only word that comes to mind is,

"Wow."

The following summer, she broke her arm in a karate match. Her dad had put all her training on hold until the cast could be removed. She was irritable and pissed that she couldn't do the thing she did best. She still ran every morning and practiced her kicks and anything that didn't require arms but she claimed it wasn't the same.

Her hair was getting longer, running a little past her shoulders, since she couldn't cut it herself. It was longer than I had ever seen it. "There's no fucking point of keeping it short anyway, if I don't have to worry about people yanking it down during a match.*" I shrugged and agreed. It wasn't really a problem I had ever had to deal with.

We're lying on the riverbank and she's throwing pebbles into the water, because that's pretty much the extent of the violence she can exact in her current condition.

"It keeps going into my eyes," she complains.

"Uh-huh."

"God, this is such a pain in the ass."

I hum something in agreement.

"I look weird, don't I? Like one of those girly bimbos."

"You look fine."

She grumbles and chucks a rock into the water, which sinks with a satifying plop. "You're only saying that because you know I'll kick your ass if you don't."

"Are you denying that you would?"

She brushes her bangs out of her eyes and huffs, "I look like an idiot."

"Shut up, you look fine."

"Really?"

"Yes, you're freaking gorgeous, okay?"

"No."

"Moron."

"Tch. Bastard." She punches me in the arm with her good arm.

I smirk and we lay on the grass together.

"Hey," she says like a revelation. "I don't look like a boy anymore."

It's true, she doesn't. She's still tall and lean with muscle but something about her is changing. She's... growing. Yes, there. And don't judge me for noticing, okay, because what the hell would you expect? When you're thirteen years old, curves are a mystical thing. Especially if you're a boy and your eyes can't help but simply go there sometimes.

But what the hell? Why is she bringing this up now? For a blood chilling moment, I wonder if she caught me staring again. Because if she did... I turn my head and look at her, trying very seriously to hide the rising panic, when I catch her drift.

"Oh, God," I cover my eyes with my arm. "That was eight years ago! Are you still mad about that?"

She laughs. "Not anymore, but I was pretty livid back then."

"Yeah, I could tell. You kicked my ass."

"Yeah, you made a great first impression. Five years old, all short and chubby, this little orange-haired snot nosed brat somehow finds his way into the dojo, and the first thing that comes out of your mouth is 'Are you a girl or a boy?'" she mimics in a falsetto.

I groan into my arm, "I was a kid, okay? I didn't know any better!"

She grins. "You were an idiot."

"Yes, we have established that already. And you beat the living shit outta me until I did know better."

"Damn straight."

I scratch my chin and stare at the clouds as the wind blows them across the sky. Something occurs to me.

"Dude." I turn on my side so I'm facing her.

"Mmm."

"Dude."

"Hm?"

"That was my first fight. Ever."

She's looking up at the clouds and she grins. "Yeah, I could tell."

The sun is setting and the sky turning into a neon, multi-colored palette. We watch as the orange, pink, and red blends into purple and black with polka dot stars peeking out and crickets start to make noise.

We're comfortably quiet as I walk her home. The summer days thus far are passing by lazily and we live them, one day at a time. The two of us just turned nine a couple days ago. Everything seems the same yet everything is changing.

"Hey."

She hums at me.

"I can see ghosts."

It takes a few moments before I realize that she stopped walking. I turn around so that we face each other and just look at each other. She's about an inch or two taller than me and right now, the height difference feels terrifyingly daunting. My hands are clenched and I wait for her to respond.

I would give anything to know what she's thinking right now, but then again, maybe it is better not to know.

An eternity passes by and we're still standing there. I really want to look away but I don't because one of the first things I learned at the dojo was that it is a sign of weakness. So I keep my eyes on hers and she continues to look at me. I can't help but wonder if she's looking at me and really seeing me for the first time. I can't help but wonder if this is when everything is going to change- for better or for worse, I could only imagine.

Finally, she nods. "Okay," she says, and she's moving forward again.

I jog to catch up with her and slow down once I reach her. "I'm not joking."

"I know."

"I'm serious."

"I know."

"And I'm not crazy, or lying, or making stuff up to get attention. I can see them. Really."

She stops and looks at me so seriously that I stop walking too. "Ichigo. I know."

"Oh," I say. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

We continue walking. Our footsteps fall into a steady rhythm against the pavement and the crickets are in full swing now. Fireflies are flying low in the grass and it smells like grass. I breathe and the feeling of summer tries to replace the nervousness leaking out of me.

"Hey."

I look at her. "Yeah?"

She pauses for a moment and asks, "What do ghosts look like?"

"Huh?"

"Do they look human, or are they blobby shapes like with sheets over their heads? Are they colorful or see-through? Are they nice? Why are they here?"

And I tell her. What ghosts look like, what they say, what they do. That weird chain in their chests. The old man that passed away from old age but whose ghost lingers by the cemetary. The girl who got hit by a car and sits on the swings. Everything.

She nods at all the right moments and asks questions when I lose my train of thought.

"You know what all this means, right?" she says.

Is this it? The moment when she calls me a freak and our friendship just becomes a memory? My heart jumps to my throat and my pulse starts racing. "What?"

"We're gonna give them all flowers tomorrow."

A breath comes out of me, the heavy feeling in my gut is gone, and I nod.

The summer sky stretches above us so infinitely. All I think about is how exhilarating it is to finally tell someone who isn't my family, and have this first someone be someone who believes me.

I'm leaning backwards over my desk to face Keigo and Mizuiro, my new friends. Chad sits behind us quietly. It's the third week of high school and already, I have some kind of weird reputation. Delinquent. Gangster. Yakuza. Who fucking knows.

"It's. Not. Fair." Keigo cries. "Why does Mizuiro have a girlfriend? Why don't I have a girlfriend? It's not fair!"

Mizuiro rolls his eyes. "Lame."

"You only say that because you're a- a- a womanizer!" He gasps. "Oh my god, you're a womanizer!"

Mizuiro doesn't even look up from his phone. "Yup."

Keigo shrieks and overreacts and what else is new. I tilt my head back and eyeball the cieling.

"Hey, hey, heyyyyyyy."

I glare at Keigo. "What," I snap.

He grins at me this shit-eating grin that I contemplate beating off his face. "Have you ever had a girlfriend?"

"No."

"A friends-with-benefits?"

"No."

"Aw, come on, that's boring," Keigo pouts. "How 'bout a crush? You've had to have at least one crush, right?"

I frown. In the periphery of my vision, I see Tatsuki talking to some bubbly girl with orange brownish hair. The two are them are laughing like they're having the jolliest time of their lives, like they're the best friends ever in the whole damn world and she doesn't even look my way.

She's already been accepted into the karate team, though I hear the judo team and volleyball team tried to recruit her too. I'm not surprised. She has friends from the team who are upperclassmen and they have inside jokes that nobody understands but them.

Already, she has a reputation. Some people call her a tough-as-nails bitch or a lesbian or a she-male. Everyone else respects her, because she can kick their asses nine ways to Sunday, doesn't take shit from anyone, and protects people like Miss Bubbly from cowards who can only function through mob mentality.

I'm not surprised.

I lift my head off the table and look at Keigo, who is expectantly waiting for my reply.

"No."

"Booo, Ichigo, that's no fun."

I shrug and close my eyes.

There are at least twenty other kids talking and hanging out in the classroom yet her laughter plays loud and clear in my head like a soundtrack.

I'm taking a walk around town to clear my thoughts and somehow, I find myself back on the grassy riverbank where I first hinted at my feelings for her.

In these past two years, I have barely spoken to her. Becoming a Shinigami took up more of my life than I thought. Now, I have no one. All the Shinigami have gone, along with all my power, and I can no longer see anything. I can no longer do anything.

I should feel free. I mean, there's no more stress in my life. The source of all my problems has entirely left me. There is no constant hum from ghosts that only I can see. No paranoia of monsters attacking at any moment. The fear of my inner Hollow swallowing me whole has disappeared. I don't have to randomly run out of class to fight Hollows anymore. Or hide midget she-devils in my closet. Or carry the weight of worlds and populations on my shoulders. I don't have to be the hero of Soul Society. I did it. I won.

I can have my life back. I can be normal. Just like any other person in the world.

The grass is long and prickly but I lie down anyway, something I haven't done in so long, and I stare at the clouds as the wind blows them by.

I never noticed how empty Karakura can feel. Did it always seem this big? This quiet?

The grass rustles, a shadowy silhouette briefly clouds my vision, and someone settles down next to me.

We don't speak. We don't have to.

Her body heat softly permeates the short distance between us. I close my eyes and the sun warms my eyelids into red blurs. Her breathing is soft and even. For a second, I think she has fallen asleep but then she clears her throat. "Hey."

I open my eyes, tilting my head just enough to see her staring at me. I smile crookedly. "Hey."

"Been pretty quiet lately around here."

"Yup."

"Is it a good quiet, or a kind of eye-of-the-hurricane quiet?"

"The former."

She looks incredibly morose and solemn. "So... Does this mean you're back? For good?"

"Yeah," I say. A long sigh escapes me. "Yeah, it does."

"Huh. I see."

The two of us succumb to the quiet again. I watch clouds and she picks at the grass. This is familiar, comfortable. This is us.

Suddenly, I feel jaded. This town has taken so much out of me, yet there are so many memories in this little town that are core to being. I watch her from the corner of my eye and she is responsible for so many.

"You know, things are going to happen and we're both going to change, but I'll always be here."

I scoff. "You really plan on staying here for your whole life? Didn't you want to travel around the world, kick butt at all these different competitions?"

She rolls her eyes and slaps the back of my head. "It's figurative, you moron. Doesn't matter where I am, the point is that I will be there for you."

I smirk and cuff her lightly on the chin. "Thanks."

"But, hey," she shrugs, "this place isn't so bad. Tons of great things have happened here."

I met her here so I guess she has a point. "You were my first best friend, you know that?"

She raises an eyebrow at me before a slow grin stretches across her lips. "Ichigo Kurosaki, are you being sappy with me?"

I cross my arms over my chest. "You started it."

"Yeah, but I'm a girl. You're a guy," she smirks so evilly not even Aizen can compare. "Where're your balls at, hm?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Thanks a lot, bestie."

She punches me and it hurts but I grin because as far as best friends go, this one is gonna be around forever.

"Hell yeah. Best fucking friends 'til the end."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I like Tatsuki. She's badass. There aren't enough fics about her. Damn it, I keep alternating between past and present tense but I like the way it sounds now, so I'm just going to leave it this way.

* True fact: it helps to have short hair if you're into sports with a lot of physical activity, because opponents often try to use your hair to maneuver your head around. All the wrestlers and martial artists I know have short hair.