"No, please don't! Please!" The screaming of a sinner.

"You've lost your chances. All 26 of them." The droning of the one cleansing the sinner.

"Just one more! I had no idea!" More screaming. Pleading eyes.

"That's what you said 23 chances ago." More droning. Murderous amber-gold orbs.

The sound of a sword slicing through it's target, a sound of liquid that now drips down the wall, slimy and thick.

Next dawn.

The sounds of screaming. The sounds of police sirens. The meeting between two important people.

Her fingers idly stroked the soft silk. It was probably the most breathtaking kimono she had ever seen. The lightest and darkest shades of blue, all woven together to make the perfect sky while cherry blossoms made out of the most expensive silk danced across the attire. A golden obi accompanied the beautiful piece.

"Do you not like it, Rukia-sama?" Soi-Fon asked quietly. Rukia averted her attention back at the maid that was standing at the door.

"Oh no! I love it! Tell the weavers of this kimono I greatly appreciate it. Thank you!" she said gratefully. Soi-Fon gave a gentle smile and nodded. She closed the door quietly, leaving Rukia to bask in the silence called isolation. After a few more moments of silence, Rukia stood up and opened the delicate glass doors to her balcony. The night breeze refreshed her. She stared at the moon, pure white and untainted, worth all its glory. She thought it was beautiful. It was mysterious and captivated Rukia in its beauty.

"Rukia-sama!" Rukia turned around to find her other maid, Kotetsu Isane standing by 'Rukia-sama's' bed. "You shouldn't open the balcony doors at this time of night! It'll get drafty and cold!" Rukia smiled at the naivety of the older girl.

"Thank you Kotetsu-san, but I'm sure I'll live. Your concern touches me deeply though. You may leave." Isane hesitated for a moment before bowing down.

"I'm sorry Rukia-sama. I shouldn't have spoken like that."

"No, it's quite alright! You needn't apologize!" Rukia exclaimed. After a bit of small talk, Isane left. Rukia's smile disappeared. A bitter and remorse face came instead as she looked out the balcony again.

Rukia-sama this, Rukia-sama that. Who is this Rukia-sama? I don't know her. Rukia buried her face into her hands. She isn't me. The rich and noble life was not meant for her. That's what she always thought. She was treated differently in everyone's own way, but at the base of those emotions people showed, it was all the same. Pity, respect, or envy and hatred. She hated it. She didn't want this to happen. She just wished everything could go away. She wished everything would be able to start again.

She stepped back from her balcony and started to close the glass doors. Sadly for her, the door opened when you pulled, so when she pushed, someone else did too. On the other side. Rukia's eyes widened.

What in the merciful heavens is

She had no time to think. She was knocked out cold.

"WHAT?!" The voice boomed throughout the halls of the Soul Society. The voice belonged to no other than the commander of the assassination building Soul Society. Yamamoto Shigekuni Genryuusai. His gnarled, wooden cane sent a vibration throughout the ground in Soul Society, making a horrible shudder travel down Ichigo's bent spine. His head was down, one fist on the floor along with his right knee as the other knee was preoccupied holding his left hand. He was in his respectful bowing position.

"How could you let her see you!"

"Please, Sou-taichou, forgive me. I had not realized there was still a civilian awake at that time of night. I, however, knocked her out cold. She is now captive in my spare room that I have in my house. What should I do with her?"

"She saw you, correct?" Yamamoto contemplated. Ichigo nodded.

"Then keep her hostage. We may have some use of her. If she is a nuisance, kill her if you must. Make sure she does not say anything. ANYTHING AT ALL!" the voice boomed. Ichigo didn't flinch. Dressed in a golden taichou kimono that gracefully rested on his shoulders, with the normal black hakama and gi, he turned around slowly, his head slightly blinding Ichigo as he turned. "You are dismissed." Ichigo nodded before disappearing into what seemed like thin air. He had one more stop to go to before he left the building.

Ichigo continued through the halls, ignoring whatever greeting was thrown his way. He knew they all talked about him behind his back anyway. So might as well show them proudly what they've been talking behind. He pushed open the double oak doors that had a graceful 5 engraved onto the doors, written in Kanji. The gentle face of the fukutaichou in division 5 looked up from her desk and smiled at the newcomer.

"Kurosaki-taichou! What brings you here today?" Hinamori asked gently. Ichigo's cold eyes burned through the table, and slightly intimidated Momo. Momo pitied him. Within Soul Society, he was teased greatly because of the colour of his hair. Orange. She liked it. It was her favourite colour beside silver and white and turquoise. It was a happy and bouncy colour. But the other fact was that no other part of his face was seen but his eyes. His hollow mask covered it all. And he certainly was not bouncy.

Everyone in Soul Society was an assassin. Killed the people who have done or did the wrong thing and Hollows. Some acquired enough power to be able to control hollow powers, earning themselves masks. But others just didn't want the power, so they stayed as Shinigami, ordinary death gods. They were all still alive. It was just that when they went to work, they would leave their bodies inside their own private compartment, and when they come back to work, back their bodies go.

But Ichigo had a special condition. No one ever saw his face anymore. He would scare everyone away if he showed it. Though he could take his mask off like other captains and lieutenants, his eyes remained the same. When he tried to help someone, they would scream. When he touched someone, they would run. So he never let anyone see him without his mask anymore. You could see the pain in his eyes if he did.

His clothes indeed weren't the ordinary hakama and gi everyone else wore. His torso was covered with bandages, covered with a v-neck kind of kimono that also revealed his bandaged stomach with a v kind of shape. The coat ended raggedly and unevenly, slightly trimmed with white with an interior colour of red silk. His pants were slightly puffier than others. His sword however, was a sight to behold. Slim, black, an unusually interesting handle and red diamond shaped threads littering the grip. Ending with a classy small black chain dangling off the end. His captain haori was often neglected in his office.

Momo noticed he was silent.

"Is Aizen-taichou here?" he asked dully. Momo nodded enthusiastically.

"In his usual spot. Go ahead." Ichigo nodded and continued his way. Momo sighed. Geez, she thought, pouting. Conversations with him are awkward…

He opened the large cream wooden doors to enter Aizen-taichou's office. It was the same as always. A large array of bookshelves on his left, spreading down the room, a pot plant on each side of the entrance, and the huge windows behind Aizen. A large table you would see a boss have in a large business company was placed right at the end of the room, a long red carpet stretched before you.

"Ah! Ichigo-kun. Such a pleasant surprise!" Aizen said gently. That really irked Ichigo. Aizen was way too nice. "What brings you here?"

"Do a background research on Kusanojou Omikan. I just killed the sinner, so check out what he did, I wasn't sure what other crimes apart from rape he did," Ichigo demanded with his low tone. Aizen pouted.

"Did I hear a please?" he called out when Ichigo started to walk towards the door. He merely lifted his right arm and stretched his middle finger. Aizen looked at his laptop on his desk.

"That Kurosaki needs to learn," he murmured, his glasses covering his eyes.

Ichigo was so frustrated. He wondered what he should do next. He's got a freaking girl chained to a bed in his spare room… What was he meant to do now? Oh yeah. Kill her. Ichigo walked back to his home. Not on the footpath, oh no, of course not! He used the roofs.

Rukia moaned. She was in pain right now. She tried to get up, and realized her bed wasn't soft. There weren't 3 layers of silk covering her. It wasn't king sized. It smelt stale. She sat up slowly, massaging her temples. Then, she bounded out of the bed. Only to be stuck. Her ankle was chained to the foot of the bed. A black ring of thick metal branded her foot while the rectangular rings holding her down was starting to make her angry.

What is this?! Her mind screamed. She jumped and stifled a gasp as she heard footsteps and the slamming of a door. Rukia backed against the wall. Damn, what am I doing in this place? Why aren't I in the Kuchiki manor? She felt her heart race faster, each beat picking up speed and a louder tone. Her stomach twisted and turned. Not a nice feeling. Her eyes widened as she realized the door to her 'cell' had opened. The first things she saw were the eyes of a demon. They shone against a splash of black, with a black centre in the gold orb. A mask covered the face, creating the person anonymous. It had swirled red and black lines on the left side of the mask, a dreaded set of teeth haunting her eyes.

What struck the most fear out of her apart from the eyes was the deadly weapon he held in one hand. The long blade, a shimmer of darkest black with the tints of blue. She jumped as the weapon came close to striking her, destroying the plaster behind her instead. Her captor made a swift turn, creating a successful line against the wall. Rukia fell back as the sword missed her face by a hair's width. She started to scramble and tried to go out the door but instead, felt her heart stop beating. She was jerkily dragged back by the chain. Rukia looked back, eyes wide in fear, her eyes barely a round circle.

Shit! Of course, growing up in her rich manor, she was taught manners. She hardly thought the time of dying required etiquette. She instead opted to fall and roll to the right as the blade swung down, missing her head. In the split moment she stopped rolling and looked up, she met those eyes. Those eyes filled with the lust of murder and evil. His feet were on either side of her body, trapping her from rolling further more. He lifted the blade once more, and snarled.

"It wouldn't be so bad if you just stayed still and died, it'd be much better!"

Rukia felt a shiver of horror slither down her spine. She ducked under his legs as he brought the blade down again and snarled rather loudly. Rukia stumbled as she crawled back towards the bed and fell. He grabbed the long chain that trapped her ankle. He now viciously pulled her back and lifted his sword. Rukia grabbed the small katana she spotted under the bed and quickly protected herself with the sheath. She found it was pure white. Including the hilt. But it seemed there was a piece of the sword missing, a string frayed and broken at the end of the sword, one bead visible.

But she had no time to think that. Instead, she pulled the sword out of its sheath and quickly blocked the attack coming towards her. The thing under the mask hissed.

"You're quite a hard one, I must say. It's been a while since I've actually felt the pleasure of fighting my victims to the death." Rukia's eyes squinted in anger.

"You, you who do not have any morals of Justice, I demand to know your name!" she snarled back. The eyes behind the mask blinked. And it was at that moment, when she had realized behind the mask was a flurry of orange; she was brutally kicked to the side. She rolled and coughed as all air left her lungs. She still gripped the sword tightly, her side with the other. He could kick, that was for sure.

"I find you a nuisance, so I'm going to kill you," he hissed calmly, his sword out by his side, one leg bent and the other stretched out.

"That's great, decide that after you come after me with a butcher knife!" Rukia snapped, blood spraying from her mouth.

"Tensa Zangetsu is no butcher knife!" he hissed angrily. Rukia's eyes widened. She looked down at her feet and saw that she was tangled. She was cornered. The hulking figure of black came closer. She closed her eyes and listened to the blood that seemed to stop in mid-air. The relishing sound of a stab wound. She opened them again. Her eyes widened.

Oh God…

Author's Note -

ummm... Hello? Heheh... I'm new to this stuff so please don't hurt me! T.T But this story is rated M for... things. But NO LEMON STUFF IN HERE, I can guarantee.

After all, I'm just 13...