Karakura High was bloating with its usual lunchtime chatter, a current of teen noise under glaring lights and cheap ceiling fans. Students in uniform moved through the hallways in their usual cliques—athletes, nerds, gossipers, daydreamers. And then there was Ichigo fucking Kurosaki.

He didn’t sit with anyone.

He didn’t need to.

Bright orange hair earned him the nickname Strawberry Head behind his back— only the bold or the stupid idiots said it to his face. His sharp eyes were always half-lidded in irritation, his jaw set like he was ready to snap at someone even if they weren’t speaking. The kind of presence that got attention whether he wanted it or not. And he didn’t.

Still, everyone watched him.

Because he wasn’t just popular—he was known. Ichigo had that look, like he lived in a world a few shades darker than everyone else. The kind of boy who skipped class not to smoke behind the gym, but to step through invisible walls into other realms.

Which he did. Regularly. Too regularly.

Orihime Inoue watched him too—always had. She never made it subtle. Her notebooks were half schoolwork, half doodles of Ichigo with sparkles and hearts and increasingly deranged baked goods. Rukia, noticed. But never pointed out Orihimes odd obsession

Just like she noticed him glance at the classroom door five seconds before it opened.

And then you walked in.

No fanfare. No hollow leaking through the floor. Just shoes against linoleum. But Ichigo’s entire body shifted. Slight. Controlled. Like he’d been punched in the chest and refused to show it.

You were a human now?

Just like Rukia had been when she lost her powers and hid in a borrowed body.

But Ichigo knew you weren’t just anything.

The first time you met was in Soul Society—back when everything was upside down, when friends became enemies and enemies became reluctant allies. You weren’t supposed to be there. You didn’t belong. And yet… you had stood there like someone who had always been part of it. As if the laws didn’t apply to you—and somehow, they didn’t.

He hadn’t expected to see you again.

Especially not like this.

Rukia watched him with one arched brow. She knew. Of course she did. She always knew.

That flicker of surprise behind his eyes wasn’t fear or anger. It was something else. Something he hated putting a name to. Something that sat halfway between rivalry and reluctant respect—sharp and unspoken.

You walked inside- past the teacher.

He looked away.

Scowled harder than necessary. Folded his arms like he could barricade himself behind them.

Rukia smirked quietly into her textbook.

Ichigo didn’t say a word as his brows furrowed.

Orihime gently smiled, before her eyes glued right back onto Ichigos back.