Title: Clemency Pays

By: CypressArtemis

Summary: He was just a rancher's son. A hardworking man content with a decent, honest days work. Concerned with little else than horses and cattle he suddenly finds himself wondering, as his hand clutches the stained parchment of a wanted poster, how anything so young and gorgeous could be considered so evil.

Chapter 1: Heading South on a White Bronco

The last light of day streaks across an orange sky as the sun sinks lower behind tall mountain peaks and an abundance of lush trees gathered at the base of the extravagant uprising rocks. A gushing river cuts through the forest at the far edge of the tree line, aside it a commonly used horse trail leading up the mountains were the water begins life as a small lake.

There's a good hunting ground for elk and bears around that way as well as some rare plants and herbs that a local store would pay a pretty penny to get their hands on. Grizzly furs are best sold at the tailor and plants, a doctor's office.

Smart people don't play into the hands of the merchants that set up shop to con these brave adventures out of a few extra dollars. A general store is good for purchasing the basics but selling is a whole different story. They'll pay you good money for any consumable goods you care to bring in, this is true, but they'll sting you on the things they can't sell themselves, then turn right around and sell them to the people that can use them in order to turn them into something people want.

Bam, there's the difference between $3 at the store for a few stems of red sage and $8 at the doctor's place. He can turn that into a tonic of sorts that'll usually go for $25. Same goes for a tailor. Minimal money for a pelt of fur at the store could get you double if you'd only went to the right man to begin with. He'll make a nice coat or a lovely fur hat some rich passerby or snobby young lady would die for and must have, and all for the low price of $48.

Smart shopping.

It's a good quality to have in a time like this. Call it frugal, call it cheap if you like, but money is an important thing these days. People need it for all the necessary and unnecessary things to maintain their cozy lives.

Just ask the band of lawmen. Spurring their horses to action and firing six bullets at a time from cattleman revolvers as they give chase. Money's going to replace those wasted shiny bits of metal later on at the local gunsmith.

The dark silhouette of a woman astride a horse abruptly halts. Reins held tight in black leather gloved hands as she cocks her head to glance over her shoulder, the black brim of her hat blocking the setting sun from glaring her violet eyes. She curses behind a black handkerchief tied securely in a knot at the back of her neck, placed purposely to cover the lower half of her face starting at the base of her nose and concealing her identity.

"Damn lawmen," she snarls and steers the white head of an Arabian mare away from the dusty horse trail. She's freshly broken. A beautiful white horse, though according to professional horse breeders she'd be considered grey due to the slight black roan in her lower legs just below the knee. It makes them look truly grey yet her body is white, white like the snow covered grounds she found her galloping gracefully over in America not a week ago along with a gorgeous American Paint she'd given to a fellow gang member. That redheaded idiot better appreciate all she went through to get the splotched white and brown horse to him.

She was back in Japan now, showing her four legged accomplice the world she'd grown up in. It was funny to watch the usually elegant animal stumble over the few cemented streets and sniff earnestly at the bizarre smells as she was led off the ferry and hitched to a post across the way.

Almost as funny as her lifelong friend waving like a maniac, suit covered body draped over a purposely placed rope along the water's edge to keep people from doing his exact antics and falling headfirst into the ocean. Violet orbs rolled at the memory. He can be such a moron.

But at least the present went over well, not that he deserved it. The sharp dressed man practically fell over when those brown eyes found themselves staring at the horse. Japan wasn't exactly famous for its horses, in fact there was really very few other than ponies so it was no surprise the black-market was blossoming so earnestly. Sure there were more reputable horse dealers that brought their stock over on the ferry, but usually the less reputable are cheaper and are willing to give a common criminal a sweet deal. Anything to help their fellow fighters out, if only just a little.

So of course the look on the man's face was enough to make her laugh. He said very little other than thank you as he cupped the chestnut face and ran his fingers down the white strip on the stallion's forehead to its snoot. He regarded the animal with awe stricken eyes. A large splotch of chestnut brown painted the horses chest and front neck turning drastically into white across the rest of its body, save for its hips and the tops of his shoulders. His mane completely white contrary to his tail that started off as such before bleeding into the same brown that littered his body. All in all, a magnificent specimen.

Their reunion was short-lived however as an obvious police officer sauntered around the docks, a suspicious gleam in his eyes and a hand resting on the grip of a holstered pistol. Her friend shrugged and quickly embraced her, his lips whispering directions in her ear before pulling away. To any onlooker it would have appeared as two old friends catching up with a hug. It was a nice cover idea. He had his moments she supposed.

She'd given him a faux salute and a glare. He just laughed, mounted the steed, and sped off in the opposing direction as her.

The mare's black nose snorts and her front right hoof paws at the grass in anxiety. Her dark ears are turning about in every direction when a few long away gunshots sound in the distance accompanied by the bark of a dog.

They're getting closer.

The mare tosses her head upwards and releases a small whinny of distress, awaiting her rider's orders as they continue on with this drawn-out standstill.

The woman sighs heavily and pats her new companion's neck. This was the last thing she wanted at the moment, especially on her new horse that still had the occasional tendency to rear up unexpectedly or attempt to buck her off when startled by something unpredictable like a wandering coyote.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. Taking a deep breath she calms herself and grips hold of the reins tighter, situating herself better in the rich brown of a leather saddle while securing her equally colored boots in the stirrups, the spurs jingling at the action.

This is gonna be a long chase.

And with that thought she guides the mare off road at a gentle trot, the continuous fall of hooves rather soothing to the ear as they ride over parched shrubbery laying in their wake, heading towards the thick cluster of trees in hopes of losing their hunters.

Karakura Town.

It was fairly new but doing quite well for itself. The town already possessed its fair share of shops and homes. Perhaps it was doing too well. An ever climbing population saw fit that its residents spent a good portion of the day constructing new houses and barns to accommodate the newcomers.

Why was it doing so well?

Maybe because the name was catchy. Maybe because it was unfamiliar territory and people tended to flock to the unfamiliar. Or perhaps it was just that there was so much unclaimed land that for the right price a family was guaranteed a home. Yeah, that had to be it.

Ichigo Kurosaki, the teenage heartthrob of the town, scratched at the nape of his neck as he observed a small family of three riding in through the gate. A middle aged man, most likely the father, driving a carriage cautiously over railroad tracks as a mother and daughter chattered behind him. The carriage bumped noisily over the railway rattling some of the cargo in back and making the girl giggle.

"Out-of-towners," Chad stated standing beside the fence his orange haired friend was currently perched upon. He leaned over placing his arms over the top layer of wood catching his friend's nod as they surveyed the scene.

When the family stopped just in front of the general store Ichigo huffed, "Here to sell a bunch of crap we don't need I guess." He began to move his legs letting the back heels of his boots collide repeatedly with the wood fence while brown eyes tried to make out the different things they were hoisting out of the wagon.

"They have to make money somehow, Ichigo."Chad's monotone habit of pointing out the obvious was starting to irritate him a bit.

Orange eyebrows furrowed and a scowl took residence over his features. "True," he agreed, gripping the fence and hopping down he slipped his hands into the pockets of a pair of dark work pants. "But still, can't people bring something we actually can use?"

"Hmm," Chad gave a nod and straightened, glancing at the horizon and taking note of the rapidly setting sun. "It's getting late."

"Yeah." Ichigo tilted his head and places his right hand on the back of his neck, eyes closing. "I guess we should be headed home. Yuzu probably has dinner ready by now."

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Sure." They both nod in agreement and Chad walks off down the road towards his own home. Ichigo sighs and turns around walking into the fenced-in field behind his house to attend a few last minute chores. He stops beside a series of stalls and picks up a metal bucket full of oats, shaking it three elongated faces turn their immediate attention now fixated on him.

"Come on guys. Get in your stalls already." Despite the annoyance in his voice a Pinto, a Cleveland Bay, and a black Standardbred trot over in a hurry to claim their stall and more importantly, their snack before the others.

He smirks when the Standardbred takes the initiative to gallop ahead of the two others and through the open gate, slipping his head out and whinnying in impatience.

The other two stop short and he has to take each by the bridle and coax them in. When all three are in position he closes the gate to each stall one by one slipping the locks into place. The Standardbred snorts and outstretches his neck when Ichigo gets to his, sniffing at the spiky orange strands as a metallic click signifies he's locked in for the night.

"Cut that out," He places his hand on the side of his large black head and pushes it aside. "I didn't forget, it's comin."

The black stallion stomps his foot like an unruly child as Ichigo walks away to pick up the bucket. On his way back he dumps equal amounts of oats into the trough of the Bay and Pinto, giving each of their heads a gentle stroke while his unruly customer continues to have a hissy fit.

He chuckles and goes to dump the rest into his own trough but the stallion has other plans as he practically shoves his head down into the bucket, happily munching away as his owner scowls down at him. "Oi, Zangetsu, I'm not standing here just so you can eat. Move your big head."

Zangetsu's ears twitch and turn towards the voice but the horse shows no initiative to comply as he leaves his mouth buried in the metal pail grinding the oats between his teeth.

The man glares and leans his head forward. If the horse were a person the action may have actually come off as an intimidating gesture and an invasion of space. "I could turn you into glue," he threatens and the horse releases a low deep nicker, licking up the rest of his snack.

Ichigo's head shakes as he's forced to stand there holding the bucket up for his four-legged companion. It's a shame that even his horse knows it's just an empty threat. He's been the proud owner of the ebony horse for a little over three years now. They've been through a lot together in that short time. Morning and late night rides, races, farm work, even illness. He'd never hurt him and he knew it. Zangetsu may just be, quite literally, his best friend.

The dark nose finally emerges, jaws still working on the last bits of grain while Ichigo sets the pail beside the door and wipes his hands on the auburn vest covering his long sleeved fallow shirt. The long sleeves are rolled up to mid-forearm on each side. Deep brown pants tucked into sandy colored boots. He prefers to wear a lot of brown hued articles. Clothes get dirty easily and mud is harder to spot on brown.

Ranch work is hard, dirty, and exhausting but worth it. It's decent, the pay is fair, and it builds muscle that's for sure. Ichigo's arms and abs were far more developed than other boys his age, which proved a benefit when he got into one of his many fights. Since his father was also the town's doctor Ichigo did most of the work which wasn't necessarily a bad thing plus free medical care, not that he needed it. He was always victorious.

Giving Zangetsu one last pat on his long neck he walks out of the barn. Picking up and blowing out the lantern set by the door he shuts them for the night, Zangetsu and the other stallions neighing as he locks up. Crossing the field in long strides he checks up on the cattle grazing around in their pen mooing and munching on grass despite his presence. Amber eyes then glance over at the chicken coop. No coyotes in sight. That's a good thing.

Two German Shepherds are sniffing around the dirt road nearby in a quest to find any unwanted pests, ready at any moment to alert their master, the local marshal, of any wrongdoings by the townsfolk or criminals. One stops, the fur on its back prickling as it bears its teeth in a snarl. It barks once and charges, the cause for the commotion scurries out in the form of a raccoon from the shelter of a dark alleyway between the general store and the gunsmith across the way. They disappear and there's a loud sharp squeal.

"Safe to say that raccoon isn't coming back." He says aloud watching the dog emerge and begin sniffing around again.

"Poor raccoon," the soft remorseful voice is familiar and obviously belonging to Orihime. "Good evening, Kurosaki-kun."

He nods, not even bothering to turn his head to look at her. It's obvious who it is anyway. No one else refers to him like that. "Evening, Orihime."

The orange haired girl sidles up to him, the frown she previously wore for the now deceased raccoon is gone and replaced with a smile. She twiddles her thumbs a little nervous at the close proximity she now is to the boy she is crushing on. "I saw you race last week. You were really good," she praises with a sweet smile, brushing some nonexistent dust off her pink dress with a white lacey gloved hand.

"Yeah? Thanks," he can't help the small grin that forms on his lips at the compliment. He finally turns towards her pointing his thumb at his chest with a proud look on his face. "Zangetsu and I never loose."

She giggles, her eyes closing as she clasps her hands together beneath her chin, "I guess you're right. I've never seen you loose so you obviously never do." She rambles excitedly and points her finger up towards the sky like she's just discovered the most important thing in the world.

Ichigo stands there blinking at her a few times before nodding. He looks around as people come out and begin lighting up porches with lanterns and flipping the lights on in stores. The sky now black and littered with stars he wonders what she's doing out here this late.

One of the dogs runs by and Ichigo sighs at the remembrance that although it's a town full of familiar and friendly people it's still dangerous. He looks up at the sky remaining quiet for a long moment as he begins to feel rather chivalrous, "Come on, I'll walk you home."

Orihime gasps and stares at him in shock. Part of her would like nothing better but another part doesn't want to be a burden and get in his way. She chooses the second part and starts waving her hands furiously from side to side in front of her as a form of rejection. "Oh, no don't worry about it. That's ok. I know my way and all. I'll be fine. No probl-"

"Let's go already," he calls making her turn hastily. He's already started on his way towards her house, his pace is far more sluggish than normal causing her to imagine he's waiting for her to catch up as he continues on.

"Coming, Kurosaki-kun." As she rushes up to walk beside him his pace picks up to one more normal for him.

It's quiet between them and though it doesn't seem to be bothering her it's making Ichigo want to squirm in discomfort. It's not that he dislikes her or that she makes him uncomfortable in general it's just… weird, for lack of a better word. He never knows what to say to her. She always seems so oblivious to things, which makes it somewhat difficult to strike up a conversation and not to mention he's fully aware of her crush on him. That in turn makes it worse.

What is he supposed to say? Um, I know you're practically in love with me and everything but you really aren't what I'm looking for. You're too kind-hearted and naïve and you never seem to know what the hell's going on around you. Can we still be friends?

Oh yeah, somehow he didn't think that would go over all that well.

"Kurosaki-kun?"

Glancing up at her concerned voice he's met with a rather sad looking frown.

"Are you alright? You look upset."

He shrugs with a sigh and kicks a nearby pebble. "I'm fine, don't worry bout it."

She nods staring straight ahead as her house comes into view. Moments later they're both walking up the porch steps. Ichigo stops and waits for her to go inside. She opens the door and turns around smiling at him. "Thank you Kurosaki-kun."

"Don't mention it." He waves and walks down the steps hearing the door shut behind him. He starts back home his right hand rubbing over his stomach as it growls. Hopefully his dinner isn't cold. He hadn't planned on walking Orihime home. He was all set to go in for the night when she popped up out of nowhere.

"Marshal! Marshal!"

Again Ichigo stops and looks over to see Sentaro galloping into town and heading right for the jail shouting in urgency. Sentaro is a deputy working under Ukitake, the marshal, and is often running back and forth between this town and the one up north deemed Seireitei. That's were all the big shots live. Still Sentaro has never come back this excited before.

His curiosity gets the better of him and jogs up towards the jail. Sentaro dismounts the Palomino horse in such a hurry it looks more like fell off the side and somehow, through sheer luck, ended up on his feet.

Ukitake pushes the doors open and stands in the doorway regarding the man with a smile. "Welcome back, Sentaro."

"Marshal," he pauses and pants trying to catch his breath. "We have a problem sir."

Ukitake's face takes on a more serious form as though bracing himself for bad news. He gives Ichigo a quick glance as he makes it over and stands just at the edge of the porch. Other people in town are now circling like vultures, most likely due to the not so subtle display.

Ichigo frowns with a look of utter confusion. "What's going on Sentaro?"

The black haired man pays him no regard, staring straight up at his superior. "Sir, Kuchiki Byakuya. He sent me to tell you, some of his men spotted that Abarai Renji and possibly Rukia. They pursued someone similar to her description but were outrun in the mountains earlier today." He looks down feeling somehow guilty for being the bearer of such news. "Rumor has it that the Inuzuri Gang are regrouping somewhere within the area."

Very few onlookers gasp while the others begin glancing around in just as much confusion as Ichigo who starts rubbing at the back of his neck thinking it no big deal. What were people afraid of? A gang of only two people and one being a girl? It was laughable. How could anyone get so worked up over this?

Ukitake's mouth pulls down in a frown. "I had heard Byakuya chased a few of them out of the country a few months ago." He sighs glancing down and back to his deputy.

The man returns the frown and shrugs not really knowing what to say. "He had, but apparently someone resembling the girl was seen getting off the ferry and meeting up with Abarai. They haven't said for sure that's who it was. Apparently they couldn't get a good enough look at the girl to confirm it but they think it's best to proceed with caution."

"Eh," Ichigo scoffs and disregards him with the flip of his hand. "Like we're supposed to tremble because some girl may or may not be in the country, meeting up with an old friend. Sounds pretty stupid."

The white haired man shakes his head. "Ichigo, I'm afraid the situation is far more complex than just whether or not she's in the country. The details are… sketchy at the moment. I'd prefer not to frighten the people here by going into details unless necessary. After all nothing is certain as of yet."

"Whatever," Ichigo waves turning his back to the men and striding away. He doesn't have time to argue about 'details' and 'complex situations'. He has a meal waiting for him. A meal that by now is most definitely cold.

A twig snaps under the tremendous weight of iron hooves, horseshoes leaving a fresh trail in the otherwise undisturbed snow. The mare's black nose is huffing and gasping for breath as she's finally slowed from a full out gallop to a walk.

Her rider glances behind her relishing the fact she hasn't heard anyone after them for the past hour. Though she may not have needed to push the horse from a canter to a gallop and back again several times during that hour it seemed the wise thing to do in order to ensure their safety for the night and put distance between them and her. Safe, yes, they would be safe for the night. No one would send anyone after them in this terrain in such darkness. No one but a fool and she didn't take the well known Kuchiki Byakuya for a fool.

She reaches out and glides her right hand down the animal's neck in a soothing gesture then leans back to rub her hip. She was completely fine other than being utterly exhausted. They'd find a place to camp soon.

Rukia had never really been one to thank God for much of anything. She never really saw much to be thankful for but with so many guns having been aimed in her direction and so many bullets shed without a single one piercing either herself or the majestic steed beneath her, well it didn't seem so bad to tip her hat to the big guy upstairs. Nope, not bad at all. She guessed the only good thing was that Renji wasn't there to witness such an act. He'd call her weird and then, well and then she'd have to punch him. No way some tattooed red-head would get away with calling her that. No siree.

Suddenly spotting a flat expanse of land with very little debris littering it she guides the horse to the left and dismounts, leaning in to place a kiss on her left cheek. "You did good Shirayuki."

The horse nickers in response as Rukia begins to strip her of the riding gear. First the saddle then the bridle she gives the mare a small push forward as official permission to walk around and do as she pleased. Drink from the nearby stream, graze on the grass, or just explore the nearby area. Shirayuki chooses the stream, jogging over and dipping her nose into the chilly water. Rukia watches her for a brief moment before scurrying about the surrounding area collecting sticks and logs and tossing them into a pile.

Her stomach growls through the work making Shirayuki glance up from her meal of grass to give her odd looks, or what she assumes to be odd looks. She could easily shoot some sort of animal in the area later. Her main concern is getting a fire started so she could actually see more than a few feet ahead of her. Her eyes have adjusted to the darkness but it still isn't enough to get an accurate shot in besides it's freezing despite the duster coat she wears. It's a dark yellow bordering on brown really. Maybe some kind of deep gold? She's not sure the color has a name actually.

Doesn't matter. It still provides some extra warmth and it never hurts that it makes her look a bit more dressy. She kneels down by the stick pile, her left hand rooting around in the satchel hanging at her left hip; her pistol occupies her right securely fitted in the brown holster. It's funny how much she likes to match. You'd think a criminal would have better things to do than worry about something so trivial. Her boots, her holsters, and Shirayuki's saddle are all the same hue of tawny.

Her pants a deep blue that turn into a medium shade of brown past the knee and to the ends. It gives the effect that it's dust instead of actual fabric as the cuffs hang over her boots. Her shirt is now is silver color from fading but the hunting vest covers most of it and the duster that. Renji likes to joke about her layers of articles. He says it makes her look like a prude bounty hunter whereas she sees it as extra layers to keep warm, not to mention a bit more protection from accident. But what would he know. He wears suit shirts and cowboy pants and that makes her joke he's some kind of cross between a gunslinger and a pimp.

Her fingers curl around a pack of matches. She strikes one cupping her other hand around it to keep the wind from blowing it out. She lowers it to the sticks waiting for it to catch before dropping it into the piles. It takes a while but soon enough she has a nice sized fire, lighting and warming the surrounding area. Shirayuki prances over throwing her head up and down and whinnying in approval of the warmth. Rukia giggles and pulls the Schofield Revolver, standing up and walking out of the campsite Shirayuki looks on but doesn't follow.

She waits patiently beside the fire, lowering her head to graze while her ears twist about listening carefully in case she's needed. Her head jerks at a gunshot and the crunching of snow. No whistle. She stays put and soon enough her master emerges from the trees, a lifeless animal in her right a hunting knife in her left.

Sitting by the fire she gets to work, slicing away the beaver fur in careful cuts. She can sell that later and places it aside. She separates the meat from the bones and the organs holding it away from herself so the oozing blood doesn't stain her clothing. It's a dirty job but it's done soon enough and a nearby stick makes roasting her dinner rather easy.

It doesn't take long to cook it to her liking as she turns the stick slowly getting both sides. She's never liked her meat well done or even medium. She prefers it rare. It's tender and tasteful that way with its many juices still sizzling inside. Her tongue darts out and wets her lips as she takes a bite. A pleased moan sound in her throat at the flavor and sating hunger in her belly. She munches away chunks of meat as Shirayuki makes her way back to the stream for one last drink before bed.

She has the right idea. When the last bit is gone the stick gets tossed into the fire with the others, it crackles and she lays back staring at the sky and yawning. Eyes drifting shut for a good rest before a long travel again tomorrow. Hopefully there wouldn't be any more trouble like today. Surely they couldn't have recognized her anyway, but even if they did, well frankly it didn't matter.

Rooted to his spot at the side of the jail Ichigo's amber irises were transfixed on the man hammering a nail through a dark golden splotched sheet of paper and into the building's wood frame. Rich onyx print across the top read 'Wanted' which was all he could make out at the moment with the man blocking his view.

A resounding 'thunk' erupted and the man stepped back flipping the hammer in the air and catching the metal head and tapping the wood handle against his right thigh. "Shame, pretty girl."

Ichigo moved closer his eyes scanning the poster in earnest. The word wanted appeared to be the largest print on the page, beneath it was an artist rendering of a girl in a cowboy hat, big doe eyes and a strand of hair hanging loosely in her face, a bandana around her neck and her hand holding a gun, probably for dramatic effect. At least he thought before he read lower.

Rukia.

Clearly her name, though no last name present.

Wanted for: Bank Robbery, Law Evasion, Breaking And Entering, Burglary, and Horse Theft.

"Quite a rap-sheet," he muttered though not soft enough for the man next to him chuckled.

"You ain't kiddin kid."

Ichigo ignored him and continued on.

Affiliation: Inuzuri Gang. Reward: Dead $50 Alive $250.

An orange eyebrow arched. He turned to the man who was now smoking a cigarette with his foot resting on a nearby box. "Why so much for alive?"

The middle aged man took a puff of the cigarette, inhaling deeply and let it out in a puff of white smoke. "One word, information."

"Information?" He blinked.

"On the Inuzuri Gang," He placed the cigarette between his lips and held it there; digging into his pocket with his unoccupied hand he dropped what was clearly another wanted poster on the box for Ichigo to read. "Alive she can tell where the other gang members are, or where they're goin. Can't get that out of the dead."

He nodded to the man and picked up the older poster. This one was for a Kaien Shiba who surprisingly looked a bit similar to himself, only longer hair and a softer looking face.

Same gang affiliation.

Wanted for: Bank Robbery, Murder Of A Lawmen, Burglary, Horse Theft, Law Evasion, Murder, And Cattle Rustling.

Reward: Dead 250 Alive 625.

He handed it back to the man who took it leisurely and folded it back up, placing it in his pocket.

"Aren't you gonna hang it up?" Ichigo inquired.

"Nah, wouldn't make no difference if I did." Taking the cigarette from his lips he crushed the burning end out on the wood box and stood up straight. "Man's been dead almost a year. Shot down in Mexico by a sheriff. Rumor has it," he paused pointing the wood handle of the hammer at the current poster hanging on the wall. "He was protecting the girl."

Ichigo crossed his arms. This man clearly heard a lot of rumors and this was starting to intrigue him. "What were they doing in Mexico?"

He lowered the hammer, cocking his head to the side his eyes squinted as if thinking for a moment. "Inuzuri Gang, they're notorious in America and Mexico. Did most of their crimes over the border. Most likely why very few have heard of 'em around here."

Ichigo scowled. None of this was making sense to him. Mexico? America? Why Japan? "Why'd they come here then?"

The man shrugged. "Because they're from here? Change of scenery maybe? Couldn't tell ya. But," he paused and leaned closer, his voice becoming more of a whisper. "I can tell ya that they were here months ago before that bigwig government agent Byakuya Kuchiki managed to chase a few off back to America. Seems they're finally regrouping."

The man's change of voice made Ichigo lower his own in turn. "I thought that wasn't for sure and that Ukitake didn't want to alarm anyone yet."

"He didn't but," again yet another pause. A woman walked by a bit too close and he waited for her to make her way by before continuing. "Kuchiki's orders. No surprise. He has a personal grudge with Miss Rukia over there."He pointed and chuckled towards the poster.

"Why's that?"Ichigo's gaze went straight for the illustration. Those doe eyes seemingly staring at him with that menacing expression the artist went for, but menacing or not she was still… attractive.

A scoff brought Ichigo back to the conversation. "How do you think she got law evasion, breaking and entering, and burglary on that poster?"

Amber eyes widened and he stared at the man like he had suddenly grown a second head. "She broke into Byakuya's house?"His voice was a little loud with disbelief and astonishment. She broke into the house of one of the most powerful men in Japan. No way! No one would be that stupid. Let alone get away with it. Impossible!

"Broke in and robbed him at gun point. Managed to flee for quite awhile too before she was forced to run away to America. It was either that or get caught."

Ichigo scoffed, "You're full of it old man."

His counterpart arched a brow and shook his head. "Believe what you want but tell me this. If she hadn't done anything to him personally, why is he so devoted to capturing this particular criminal? More so than the others running amok?"

For a moment he was at a loss for words. That argument was beginning to sway him the other's favor. It was a good point, one that made sense. There were far worse people out there murdering innocents on a daily basis yet this Kuchiki was more preoccupied with a common thief. Still something didn't sit quite right. "Well if she robbed the richest, most powerful man in Seireitei and committed so many crimes in other countries, why is her bounty so low?"

He pointed to the man's pocket that held the folded up slip of paper. "I mean that Kaien guy was up like $600. If they were in the same gang clearly she was there while he was doing all that stuff as well."

A long minute passed as the man stared with blinking eyes. Ichigo smirked, convinced he'd outsmarted him. He thought wrong.

"Criminals are allowed the opportunity to pay off their own bounties. Plus most conceal their identity during crimes so law officials can't always link them to it. Not too mention moving from country to country makes keeping track of what they've done and their location rather difficult."He tapped his forefinger against his own forehead then pointed at Ichigo. "Need to think about those things."

Before Ichigo could retort the man was on his way walking back into the jail. Ichigo could see him through the window chatting with Ukitake and drumming his hands on the counter. Had to be someone from Seireitei.

He huffed and wandered back over to the wanted poster. His fingers itched at his side as he was filled with the sudden urge to rip it down. Criminal or not this simple slip of parchment was just an invitation for any other lowlife to hunt her down like an animal for, granted, what was a decent sum but that was wrong on so many levels. Though what she's done didn't exactly register as right in his mind either there was a big leap between robbing someone and hunting a person down for money.

He couldn't help it. His hand gripped the paper at the top and with a quick yank it was off the wall and folded up. Placing it securely in his pocket he glanced around for any witnesses. None. Good. He sauntered away casually, his hands digging into his pockets and his fingers rubbing over the paper.

He'd done the right thing. After all, she couldn't really be that bad.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Hope you like it so far. Review if you like.