A/N: I want to start of by saying that my first language isn't English so please excuse my grammar mistakes and/or spelling. Next I want to say that I'm a shipper of all ships, but IchiHime beats IchiRuki just a tad more. Thirdly, I'm sort of new to the whole writing mumbo jumbo, so excuse me if this isn't the best of works you have seen. Lastly, I would like to say that I don't know if the rating may change or not. It's up to the readers. I think that is all.

Oh, and until I can afford to buy 600 boxes of brownie mix, I don't own Bleach.

Chapter 1: The Class

With a heavy sigh, Ichigo ran a hand through his unruly orange hair.

Seriously, why did his father have him sign up for an art class when he was studying in the medical field? It wasn't like he was going to have to conduct an emergency painting on a liver with cirrhosis, so why the hell did he have to learn how to paint?

That was more in the Ishida department!

There were plenty of other classes he could have taken as an elective in Karakura University. He could have taken forensics to pass time. Maybe even digital photography? Who the hell cared? All he knew was that he didn't have to take a freaking art class!

Growling lowly, Ichigo grabbed his bag of paintbrushes and expensive paint before walking out of his dorm. One reason he didn't want to take an art class was because he couldn't even draw a perfect circle, his father knew that, so what in the heavens encouraged the older man to make his son take a painting class? A class that required perfect precision and patience, two things he didn't have? The carrot top let out another sigh as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder. Yet another reason he didn't want to take the class. For some unknown reason – probably because the school was broke – the instructor had the students bring their own supplies. And the shit was heavy too.

Making sure the door was securely locked so no one would steal his possessions – come on, what did have that someone would want? – Ichigo started his way down the corridor and made a beeline to the elevator. He was supposed to meet the rest of the guys in the courtyard so they could walk to the art room together.

It wasn't that Ichigo didn't like the class or the action, he actually loved painting and art, he just didn't understand why his father would want him to enroll in a class that he would embarrass himself in and would never need outside of the classroom itself. Oh well. If he failed as a doctor, he'd join the art field, once he learned how to draw a perfectly straight line, because everyone knew he couldn't even do that to save his life.

Stepping into the main building, Ichigo slung his bag further up his shoulder. Accompanying him to the classroom was going to be Sado, Ishida, Renji, and Keigo. Mizuiro had signed up for a different elective – much to Keigo's chagrin – and wasn't taking the same class. He could understand why Ishida took art, but the others, not so much. It didn't matter though, they somehow ended up in the same classroom and he wasn't complaining, however, Keigo's constant poking, prodding and whining could get annoying from time to time.

Opening the door leading to the courtyard, Ichigo squinted to block out the God awful sunlight that seemed unusually bright today as he scanned the area for his 'friends'. He spotted them leaning on a nearby tree, chatting away with their bags either sitting on the ground next to them or slung over their shoulders. Quickly, he walked over to them.

"Yo," he called, gaining the others attention. They snapped their heads towards the male and nodded in greeting. Keigo decided he wanted to run up to the carrot top, screaming something about missing him and hugs, before a fist went flying to his face, forcefully knocking him to the ground, hard. Ichigo blew on his slightly red knuckles to make them feel less heated before shoving his hand back in his pocket and repositioning his bag on his shoulder.

"You're late Kurosaki," a cool voice pointed out. Ishida pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Approximately five minutes late. If you haven't forgotten, we have a class to attend, one that I rather enjoy." Leave it to the priss to point out his tardiness and mention something about his love of art.

"Shut up Ishida, I'm not dealing with your shit today," Ichigo retorted. They were friendly rivals, always throwing jabs at each other, but saving each others asses during a time of need. "Save it for another day."

"Well, what crawled up your ass this morning?" Renji asked, raising a tattooed eyebrow. His appearance gave off 'troublemaker'. But if anyone actually knew his class schedule, they'd know that no 'bad boy' would be taking a horticulture course as a second elective.

"Nothing, just annoyed. The sun seems bright today, too bright, almost like it's smiling."

"That just means that today will be a good day!" Keigo shouted, hopping to his feet after dusting off his pants and drying off the blood from his nose. "It means something will happen! I don't know what, but something good will happen! Maybe some cute senior girl will come up to me and confess her love? Imagine that!" The brunette swirled around in a quick circle with a wide smile. "Finally my dream will come true! I bet you Mizuiro will be so jealous!"

"Hn."

Somehow, everyone – except for Renji maybe – understood the difference between Chad's grunts. If it was slightly high, it was a questionable grunt. If it was slightly low, it was a disagreeing grunt. If it was in the middle, it was just an indifferent grunt. The giant didn't need to talk in order for people – his group of friends, at least – to understand his one sound language.

Ichigo rolled his eyes at Keigo's dreamy expression. "I think you're wishing a little too hard."

"You're just jealous that I'm gonna get a girlfriend before you!"

The orange haired teen couldn't do anything but raise an eyebrow at his friends assumption. Girlfriend? Where the hell did that come from? He didn't care much for relationships. His studies were more important than a significant other tying him down.

"Whatever floats your boat, Keigo," Ichigo sighed. He really didn't feel like dealing with the brunette's antics today. The bright sun was bothering him more than it should have.

"Yo, I think we should go. Class is starting in ten," Renji said. For some odd reason, he wasn't bothering Ichigo as much today. Maybe he didn't like the bright sun either? Maybe he didn't eat breakfast? Or maybe he was just thinking. Ichigo really didn't care much, so he let it drop, just thankful that he wasn't being the annoying shit he usually was.

Grabbing their bags, the group of five started their way to the classroom, poking fun at each other along the way. As soon as they made it to the class, two minutes to spare, they quickly set out their utensils needed for the project and waited patiently for the teachers instructions.

Still, Ichigo couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy today, if the sun was any indication. His gut was correct as his eyes bugged out of his head as he read the assignment for the day.

/\/\/\/\/\

Pulling the sheet tighter against her busty chest, Orihime couldn't help but blush and feel dirty at her job for the next few days. She was offered quite a bit of money to pose as a model for the art class at Karakura University.

Now a model didn't sound so bad and she quickly accepted it when her guardian, Rangiku, mentioned it to her over the phone. For some odd reason, Rangiku told her that she didn't need to go for a quick interview. Orihime had been a bit skeptical, but she quickly brushed it off. After all, the older woman was friends with the teacher, so she probably just showed her a picture of her or something. It was also a bit suspicious that Rangiku had told her about the job instead of the instructor calling her personally. Wouldn't it be more official that way? Whatever. Orihime was just happy she was going to do a simple job for a fat sum of cash to pay for her groceries.

All she had to do was smile and stay like that, right?

Wrong.

The part that her guardian had 'forgot' to mention was that she was taking a job as a nude model! Nude! As in nothing but a thin white sheet covering her body! To say that Orihime was shocked was an understatement.

She was absolutely mortified!

What in the heavens was Rangiku thinking offering her this job?! It wasn't like her at all! Orihime tried to decline, but it was too late. The instructor had pushed her into a curtain room, told her to strip her clothes off and threw a sheet at her, telling her to wrap herself good. Of course, Orihime at least tried to get the woman to reconsider – or at least let her wear some underwear – but the lady wouldn't hear any of it. She just said she was grateful for accepting the job and left it at that.

By then, tears were burning her eyes and threatening to roll down her face.

Orihime really didn't want to have to sit on the platform, naked with nothing but a sheet on, in front of a class full of male and female students. She wasn't the type to show off her body – no matter how glorious it seemed – in front of others. She was just too innocent! Her brother had told her that she had to preserve her body for the one she loved. And here she was, about to flaunt it off like a freaking gold medal.

Pulling the sheet tighter against her curves, Orihime couldn't help but wonder why Rangiku hadn't accepted this job. She was more suited for it, in more ways than one. She had a great body that she was willing to show off – if her low cut shirts counted as an indicator. The woman loved photos, absolutely adored them. She wasn't afraid to to stand in front of others at all and most importantly, she was beautiful! With her long blonde hair that whipped around wildly in the wind, shapely curves, feminine hips and a huge chest, Rangiku would have been the perfect model!

Silently weeping at her misfortune, Orihime listened to the teacher lecture the class about the assignment. She heard a loud gasp from the students, silence, and then a loud applause with a bunch of catcalls. Orihime blushed darkly and pulled the sheet closer – as close as it could get – against her naked skin.

'Why me?'

She'd have to have a little talk with Rangiku later.

The teacher poked her gray head inside the curtains Orihime was standing in. She gave her an encouraging smile, hoping it would ease her nervousness, and gestured for the auburn to go to the platform.

Taking a deep breath and promising herself a thousand hot showers, Orihime clutched the blanket in her small fist and slowly pulled the curtain back.

The room was brighter than before and a lot more crowded. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she swallowing thickly and took deep breaths. Taking a step forward, she walked out of the secluded area with a bowed head, feeling very self-conscious and nervous.

The room held their breaths as their model walked out. Keigo was practically hitting his head on the ceiling with how high he was bouncing in excitement. Chad's eyes widened. Ishida's glasses fell. Renji gaped.

And Ichigo blushed. Badly.

The model set her foot on the platform, standing up proud and tall – or so it appeared – before lifting her head up to look at the crowd.

The eyes of both carrot top's met.

A/N: And I think I'll end it off there for today. Let me know what you think, Ichihimeians out there! The chapters may get longer over time, I don't know. Once again, I don't know if the rating will change later on. It is up to you all. Thank you for your time!