Bleach F U M E I

_**~Prologue~**_

Stories: there are many genres one can read—so many, in fact, you tend to forget which are fiction and which are real. It's not long before you can't tell horror from romance, comedy from drama . . . reality from a fantasy. There're too many to choose from; I can't decide which my favorite is.

What's your favorite kind of story? Is it a romance novel? A blood-soaked horror story? A knock-your-socks-off comedy? Maybe you can't decide between something serious and comical, so you choose a dramedy?

How _can_ you decide? I really can't . . . not anymore. You see, when I was younger, I was told all these stories and legends about gods and goddesses; fairytale creatures too. Yeah, crap like that. What's funny though—that is, if you _think_ it's funny—is that I believed them all. Of course, what five-year-old girl isn't going to believe in fairies, the beautiful princess who's locked away in a tower waiting for her prince charming, or a magical land of unicorns and pegasi?

Any little girl that age would. They think it's all real and attainable, but it's really just their imagination. It's all fun and games until they realize they've been lied to their entire life.

~:~

August. That's my birth month. What day? That's for you to find out. It'll come across in this story you're about to read; you'll just have to pay attention. _Really_ close attention.

The thirty-first.

Is that my birth _day_?

August thirty-first: the last day of the month. It's also the day before the second trimester started. "Second trimester of what?" you ask. School . . . or, to be more specific, Naruki Junior High School.

Guess I kind of gave away the town I live in, huh? O well. Guess there's no point in hiding it; I was going to tell you anyway.

Well, not only is August 31 the day before the second trimester, it's also the day I (unofficially) met . . . _him_. A new guy in town—at least he _seemed_ new. I had never seen him around before, so I assumed he was new. I guess I should stop assuming things . . . I'm really bad at thinking I have the right answer, when I really don't.

Anyway, this kid—I don't even know his name, much less what he looks like . . . no that's a lie. I _do _know what he looks like. I'd recognize him _any_where. The one distinct feature about him—the one thing that could catch your eye at any given distance—was his eye-popping . . . wait. If I told you, you'd know him right off the bat, wouldn't you? So I'll keep my mouth shut and have you try figuring it out—although you will most likely get it in one shot.

His one distinct feature (I won't go into detail though): his hair. Maybe it's natural, maybe it's bleached. I wouldn't know. I'm not a hair stylist, nor am I him.

Who am I, then? Nothing special, if you really must know. I might have a bunch of talents—talents you'll learn about later—but am I special? I mean anyone could have the talents I have . . . I don't see what's so special about them, much less what's so special about me. When I go to school, I hear from my friends, "Oh, that's so good," "This is so nice," and "You're really amazing," but am I really that good?

I guess I'll never know.

But _him_ . . . well, he is something special. I don't know how or why, but there's something about that one boy with his strange hair that I know is special. I can't explain _how_ I know, just understand that I _do_. I may be mostly wrong at _assuming_ what I think may be right, but when it comes to suspicion, I am usually right; I can pinpoint little details no one thinks normal people will spot.

Oh! Did you catch that? What I said about normal people? Does that mean I'm not normal? That I'm _ab_normal? That's something, actually, not for you to figure out . . . but for you to decide. That is, if you _want _to decide . . .

Keen, potent eyes: there is another one of his features. Have you guessed already? He's a mysterious kid. Yes, mysterious. An enigma. For suddenly appearing out of nowhere and arriving _just _before the second trimester starts, with all of his unnatural physical attributes and good looks. I mean honestly, the only place you'd find a person like _him _is either in your dreams, or in an anime. There's just _no _way he doesn't look suspicious and odd.

And I might be overthinking this, but doesn't that seem a bit odd to you? For this gorgeous looking kid to come out of seemingly nowhere with devious good looks and abnormally. . . different colored hair . . .

I probably am. There I go assuming things again. I am in no place to judge who he is or what he does. For all I know, he could well be from Tokyo, having already finished the first trimester of school there, then, I don't know . . . maybe his parents got a new job here in Naruki City and his family moved? That could very well be a possibility.

But he seems so isolated. If he has parents, he'd be inside watching a movie or eating dinner with them at that time—what a regular family would do . . . right?

Have you caught on as to what I was doing there? Read it over a couple times. I'm sure you'll understand; it shouldn't take you that long to guess.

Tanned, toned, flawless—even his _skin _looked too good to be natural (from my perspective at least). Any girl who's seen him is no doubt swooning over him—bleck!

Why would anyone like him? He seems like nothing but an introvert! Can I blame him though? No, not really. I can understand being quiet around new people, the silence and sideways stares . . . you feel out of place and uncomfortable.

Maybe that's what he's feeling: uncomfortable and out of place? Maybe he feels like a misfit and doesn't think the people around him will like him. As I've said many times before, he definitely doesn't look normal, I can assure you that. And the way he treated me? He treated me as if I were the lowest of the low: as if I were dog, or even the dirt on his shoes! or as if I were nothing human.

I'll scoff the next time I see him and he tries to engage in conversation with me—_if _he tries to engage in conversation with me. If he asks for directions to some place, he can forget it. I won't tell him.

Of course that's just my fantasy of what I'd do. I'm not that cruel a person. Unless they beat me or physically hurt me, I won't be that kind of person. I'm a nice enough person, but you don't want to get on my bad side. Trust me.

I felt so bad when I came home to my Obāsan and Ojīsan in a pissy mood. It was all _his_ fault. I was just being neighborly by asking if he was new here. I was just trying to make a good impression on the "new" kid in town, but what did he do? This is what he did: when I asked, he didn't even _turn_ to look at me. Instead, he continued texting on his phone. Didn't even glance my way but had the nerve to say: "Leave me alone." in a very monotone voice.

Didn't even _try_ being friendly. He was such an ass!

Naturally, I felt offended, so I shot back, "Sorry. I didn't realize I was interrupting your moment with your phone."

He might have been a stranger, and in truth, I felt really out of place saying that—I don't think I had the right to, honestly. For all I know, he could be texting his mother or a sibling or a friend (if he has any), and though he may look small, his toned arms said that he had done some sort of exercise, so he very well could've done something to me right then and there. Although if he did, he may not be very hard to find with the way I could describe him.

I just hate it so much when I see people texting on their phones or paying more attention to their phone than anything else—like the sunset that's right freaking in front of you!—it bothers me to no end. I can't stand it.

After I said that, he glanced at me with intense eyes—stronger and deeper than I've ever seen in my life. It was like staring into a well. No, he wasn't glaring, but they were just . . . strange.

He _tsk_'d, looked away, pocketed his phone, jumped over the railing he had been leaning against, and walked away.

I watched him with an annoyed glare, then went home to my grandparents. What a weird kid. I swear . . .

Let that be the first and last time I ever see him (funny; do you remember what I said earlier?). He reeks of nothing but trouble.

* * *

**A/N: Hey people. It's me! akafyi! This is obviously a new story I'm writing, _FUME__I. _It's Japanese for "Unknown". For those of you who decide to read this—both the author's note and my new story—you'll find out what it is that's unknown.**

**As for my other story, _Frozen_, I apologize for not updating in over a month (I think it's been two actually), but I promise I will update it soon. I haven't been consuming my time with this one as you can tell, the prologue is very short. I've just been busy with tests and things of the like. I can't wait until summer!**

**Anyway, tell me what you think of it. If you're confused by the prologue, don't worry, I meant for it to be confusing and choppy like that. I can assure you, though, that it's only the prologue and the rest of the story will not be like this.**

**And thank you 7Shadows for again helping me with the prologue and many other stories I may think of.**

_A Note from 7ShadowsUnleashed _

_So we are off on a new venture, so it seems. I promise that "Frozen" will not be cast off on the wayside. For all who enjoy "Frozen," will shall not fail. The delay is my fault, given I have been a bit delayed. My exams are finally rallying for the attack, though I am desperately wishing that they would sort of … fail in their attempts._

_I can promise that this story will be lots of fun, so I hope we see you again on both of our duo-ventures very soon._

_- 7ShadowsUnleashed_


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Bleach, Hurt-Comfort, Mystery