Authors' Disclaimer

We do not claim to own/create Bleach (Anime) and/or its characters.

Though we did wish we owned the below;

Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Byakuya, Hisagi Shuhei, Ukitake Jushiro, Kurosaki Ichigo, Sosuke Aizen (bad boy look), Ichimaru Gin, Kurotsuchi Mayuri (mask-less, of course).

(Well, at least, I did! XD – unamariposa)

My Lover – A Yakuza

3

In the small living room, Byakuya sat crossed leg on a zabuton the Moshitos had provided. Emi had just provided them with hot tea and settled herself in the furthest corner, neatly tucking her legs underneath. Byakuya had been seated in the middle, while Kenpachi sat on his right side. The bald young man for earlier were present in the room too, but sat across Emi, further away from his Oyabun.

“Kucihiki Oyabun-sama,” Moshito Mashiro said, lowering his head as he did so.

“I am sorry for what had happened to your son,” Byakuya said.

“Arigato gozaimasu, Kuchiki Oyabun-sama,” Kiko responded.

“I am sure that you would want to see that your son did not die in vain,” Byakuya continued. “And I assure you, we will get to the bottom of this.”

Emi manage to control herself; to not look away from the wooden flooring; to not look up. She really wanted to have a good look at the man who ruled and even owned this town. She wanted to see the face of the man who had brought them once peace and who will bring it again, this time personally for them.

“Tell me everything you know about your son,” Byakuya persisted.

Mashiro glanced at his wife. “Eiji has been acting differently for the past two months.”

His wife nodded. “Yes, he was always ill and he would keep his distance from us. He was a nice boy but then I don’t know what happened.”

“He kept asking money,” Mashiro said, shaking his head. “And we gave it to him until it was just too much.”

“Do you why he asked the money?” Byakuya asked.

“Gomen nasai, Kuchiki Oyabun-sama,” Mashiro apologized. “We never really did ask. We thought it was for school.”

“And none of you realized he has a problem?” Kenpachi spoke out, slightly accusing the husband and wife. “And none of you tried to help?”

“Gomen nasai, Kuchiki Oyabun-sama, Zaraki Waka-Gashira-sama,” Mashiro said, vaguely offended by what Kenpachi had said. To be told that they are oblivious to their own son’s problems is quite an insult especially when they are here, deeply hurt by his death. “We did realize of his problem and unfortunately for us, he did not grab our hands when we reached out for him.”

“I tried so much to talk to him, to get him to tell me what’s going on with his life,” Kiko said, fighting back tears. “But he wouldn’t even come close! And now, it’s too late.”

“Does he socialize much?” Byakuya asked, indifferently.

“Not that we know of,” Mashiro replied. “We only know some of his friends from school, but we don’t really know their names.”

“That’s convenient,” Kenapchi muttered silently.

“Then I believe, that would be all,” Byakuya announced, picking himself up. “Kenpachi, let’s go.”

“Ikkaku, get the cars ready,” Kenpachi said to the bald headed guy at the corner. At once, he jumped to his feet and disappeared behind the door.

“Again, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Byakuya said, as he walked to the entrance. “And thank you for the ocha and hospitality.”

“Arigato gozaimasu,” Mashiro and Kiko bowed to the two men respectively. “Kuchiki Oyabun-sama; Zaraki Wakagashira-sama.”

“I don’t like the Wakagashira,” Emi said, as soon as they left their premises. She began to clear out the living room, and their untouched teas. “He was rude.”

Mashiro sighed, as he looked at his daughter. “Let’s just let it be. We are just commoners to them after all.”

&

Grimmjow Jeagerjaques is a young man with light blue hair and matching light blue eyes. He sat in his small room, on his small bed, sharpening his switchblade as time passed by. He had nothing much to do, not until he was given a job. He doesn’t really comply with rules and he would usually do things without anybody’s consent; but today was just not one of those days.

A knock came from his door.

He kept his switchblade hidden from view as he opened the door.

“Oh, it’s only you Ulquiorra,” Grimmjow said with a yawn. “What is it? Why are you here?”

“Aizen-sama has work for you to do,” Ulquiorra said unemotionally.

“Why do you insist in calling him ‘Aizen-sama’?” Grimmjow asked, displaying a disgusted face.

“Do you dare forget who saved you from the streets,” Ulquiorra replied.

“Bah!”

“Why do you insist in calling him with that Japanese title? We’re not even Japanese!” Grimmjow pointed out as he leaned by his door way.

“Are you done?” Ulquiorra replied.

“Yeah, whatever. What’s the job?” Grimmjow asked, playing with his knife.

“You’re going to go to Japan and assist the transfer. You will see to it that it goes as Aizen-sama planned,” Ulquiorra said.

“When?”

“Next week,” Ulquiorra replied.

Grimmjow stepped back then crudely closed his door.

He sat back on his little bed. It was true that Aizen was the one who had saved him from the streets or what he called hell and provided the necessities he didn’t have to steal or salvage anymore.

Abandoned as a young child, he grew up learning to defend for himself and not respecting others. He was a dirty boy on the streets, where no one would even have pity on. He would constantly be violently punished, especially when the people he stole from caught him. An as usual, no one pitied the boy and he grew to become heartless as well.

One day, as he was walking with some food in his arms, he passed a group of older boys who were trying to steal some money from an outsider. He would’ve just ignored it and moved on when one of the boys accidentally ruined his food. The boy’s ended up being unrecognizable with all the blood and smashed face.

The outsider was impressed with what Grimmjow was capable of doing and actually took him to work under him - the outsider was Aizen.

Aizen had provided him with shelter and food, and in exchange, Grimmjow was to do whatever he wants him to – and now it’s going to Japan.

&

“Rukia!” Renji called out, standing outside her bedroom door. “Training!”

“Coming!” Rukia answered.

Renji leaned on a wall as he waited for her. A couple of minutes later, she came out wearing a black hakama - Renji was wearing the same thing too.

“We’re late!” Renji scowled as he started to run.

“And whose fault is that?’ Rukia asked rudely, running equally beside him.

“I wasn’t the one who went off wandering!” Renji spat back.

“Idiot! Shut up and keep running or senpai’s going to make us pay,” Rukia said.

“Gomen nasai Ukitake-sama!” Rukia said the moment the both of them burst through the doors.

With their hands on their knees, both of them stopped to catch their breath.

“Huh? He’s not here yet,” Renji said as he looked around the spacious room.

“Are you sure we’re not early?” Rukia asked.

“We’re freaking late! He may have left already!” Renji cried out.

Rukia pulled up on her long black sleeve to look at the wrist watch. “We’re only ten minutes late. We should wait.”

“Do we have a choice?” Renji said, rolling his eyes.

Rukia chose to ignore Renji’s last remark and wandered around the dojo.

She walked to the sliding doors and pushed them all open - sunlight flooded in almost immediately. The flooring of the dojo was extended as the veranda came in view.

She then walked to one end where there, on display, was the Kuchiki’s family heirloom. Samurais and katanas of all shaped and sizes from generations to generations. And among them, one was the most beautiful katana ever made, just especially for her. It was as pure as the snow; everything was white. From the blade to the handle to the white material that tailed it. Everything was made from the best; the strongest blade to resist any harshest attack made to it, the finest material for the handle to ensure a better grip and finally, the most expensive white silk lace available to mankind for beauty fit for a princess.

It was from her late grandfather, a birthday gift when she was little. A young girl then, she never understood the beauty and the art of it all, but now, she uses it with elegant pride.

She picked it out from the mirror case and pulled it out from the cover - it shined as if it was new.

“Renji! Defend your stance!” Rukia called out, the katana in her hand, charging to Renji.

She was fast that Renji almost didn’t have the time to avoid having his arm cut off. “Idiot! Rukia! My guard was down!” Renji screamed, as he grabbed his own.

Renji’s katana was a unique one, especially made for him too. It was bigger and wider than Rukia’s and it had a saw-like manner. Sharp jagged edges replaced the typical smooth sharp blade.

“Idiot! That’s your fault!” Rukia said in an authoritative manner. “Never let your guard down! Not even to me!”

“Bitch!” Renji growled at her.

But their little match had to stop when a man stepped in the dojo - Ukitake Jushiro. He had a handsome kind face with a very strong built body. His long white hair flowed gently to his waist, accentuating his broad shoulders. He wore a white hakama instead of the usual black one that they wore.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jushiro said as a harsh cough escaped his throat. “I’m not feeling well today.”

Ukitake Jushiro wasn’t exactly a stranger to feeling unwell. He was diagnosed with tuberculosis but that didn’t stop him from going on with his life. Years later, he’s still training them to be better fighters.

“Are you sure you can train us today, Ukitake-sensei?” Rukia asked.

“We’ll keep it simple today,” Jushiro said, reassuring Rukia’s question, as he walked towards the two who stood in the middle. “Attack me - I want the both of you to attack me. Let’s see if you were better than the first time I trained you.”

“But-“

“These are orders from your sensei and I expect the both of you to do it,” Jushiro said simply, pulling out the weapon he had brought with him. It was two katanas chained together as one weapon with sharp hooks decorating the chain. “We will keep on doing this until blood is spilled; the first one to bleed loses.”

The air around them made a hissing noise as Renji sliced it; his katana in the same position where their senpai stood – two seconds earlier. Renji had decided to attack while Jushiro’s guard was down but he was vigilant as ever. He had easily avoided Renji’s sudden attack.

“Renji!” Rukia cried out. “Were you trying to comb his hair? Is that the best you can do?” She asked as she stood next to Renji.

“Shut up idiot!” Renji hissed.

“Not good enough!” Jushiro pointed out. “Attack! Or the both of you would be the first to bleed.”

At first, both Rukia and Renji just stood there, doing nothing but looked back their sensei. It wasn’t until Jushiro lashed out his katanas did they sumersault backwards, distancing themselves from their sensei.

“So how are we going to do this?” Rukia whispered to Renji.

“Let me think,” Renji said, his eyebrows scrunched closer and he put his thinking cap on. “OK. I’ll attack him from the front then when his gaurd is down, you immediately attack him from the back!”

“I don’t like it,” Rukia said simply.

“You don’t like what?!”

“Your idea,” Rukia said. “It’s so predictable. We should try a different approach – we’ll attack his mind.”

“His mind?”

“Yes, we attack psychologically.”

Renji started laughing. “That has got to be the most ridiculous strategy I’ve ever heard in my life!”

“Keep laughing if you want it to be the last thing you’ll ever hear,” Rukia threatened.

“Why are we wasting time?” Jushiro called out.

“OK. Let’s do plan A first and if it doesn’t work, we’ll do plan B, which is your idea,” Renji said smartly.

“Alright,” Rukia agreed.

Hours later with their Plan A in action, Renji and Rukia were breathing quite heavily. So far, no matter how much they attack, they just can seem to lay their blade on their sensei’s skin. Renji and Rukia had attacked with all their might but every time the both of them tried to cut him, Jushiro would without doubt counter back.

Jushiro’s blade almost, just almost, sliced Rukia on her shoulder - if Renji hadn’t pulled her to safety they would’ve lost the point of training.

“Idiot! What are you doing?” Renji scowled, catching his breath.

“I didn’t need your help!” Rukia glared at him.

“Yeah, sure you didn’t!” Renji said sarcastically. “Anyways – I think now’s the time! He’s seems tired. I’ll attack him straight on and you sneak from the back!”

“OK!”

The sound of sharp steel clashed against each other as Renji pounded on him hard. For a moment, Jushiro was impressed at the sudden strength that Renji had built up. He actually had to put in some effort to stop Renji’s jagged blade from staining his white hakama with his own blood.

Jushiro suddenly raised his second katana in his left arm and swung it backwards; his right hand still occupied with Renji. Renji’s eyes went wide in both awe and shock. Their sensei had just managed to counter Rukia’s silent attack while still concentrating on Renji. Jushiro didn’t even look back, instead he grinned as he looked at Renji’s eyes.

“Not good enough, Rukia!” Jushiro said as his students drew back.

“Right,” Rukia said slowly and sarcastically. “What a great idea of yours idiot!”

“Shut up!”

“Now we try mine.”

“Let’s see if yours works!”

And so Plan B went into action; this time they tried Rukia’s approach – psychologically. But everybody knew Jushiro was too good to let words corrupt his mind. No matter how much Rukia and Renji tried; it never did work. Instead, it made them more irritated when they saw how little their sensei was affected by it.

“I cannot believe the both of you would actually think I could be affected by words,” Jushiro said, shaking his head.

“It was worth a try!” Rukia replied as they retreated again.

“Don’t tell me the both of you are giving up!” Jushiro shouted.

“No way!” Renji shouted equally, kneeling on the floor as he catches his breath.

Rukia stood by him, her hands on her small knees.

It was getting dark outside, Rukia realized. And as the lights were turned on, the both of them was strucked with a foolproof idea.

“I have an idea!” both Renji and Rukia said instantaneously.

As they looked at each other, they knew they could read each other’s minds. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Renji grinned. “I think I am.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Jushiro asked as he tried to eavesdrop on their conversation. The both of them were practically whispering in each others ears. “We haven’t got all day. It’s already dark!” Jushiro said and indeed it was. Electricity now provided with lighting around the veranda and the small Zen garden across were decorated with lights.

“Ukitake-sensai?” Renji called out for his attention.

“Yes?” Jushiro responded, raising his brows as he waited for Renji’s next question.

“Oh! Hitsugaya-sama!” Rukia suddenly called out, her attention on the veranda as she gave a little wave.

“Hitsugaya? I bought him some candy!” Jushiro suddenly said to himself, walking to the veranda area.

Renji and Rukia screamed as they sunk their blade in their sensei’s arm. Unfortunately for the two, they only managed to nick him as the katana that he was holding blocked them for severing of his arm.

“Ha. Ha.” Jushiro said cynically. “Very funny you guys! And it actually almost worked; well, I guess lesson’s over. You guys managed to nick me - at least. Now let’s go and wash up and rest. I need to give Shiro-chan the candies I’ve bought for him.”