A.N. Hey. Ummm… Thank you for checking this story out. This is my first published "story" fan fiction, and Bleach fanfiction, as the others I have started I know I will abandon before they get done, or are simply bad. I'm not that great at writing and am unafraid to admit that, so please, be patient. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't think anyone this site owns Bleach, so why is this necessary?

Warnings: Ermm… OK, there will be angst, umm… sexual themes, and yaoi in later chapters, but no sex… sorry, guys. If you want that stuff, there are plenty other places where you can read it. I'm more of a story-kind of person, so…yeah.

"Hey, Shiro?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you smell something?"

"No. Why? What do you smell?"

"I don't know." There was a scream in the distance. Both boys, almost identical in appearance, yet complete opposites, turned to the source, eyes wide.

"What-?"

"Shiro!"

Ichigo Kurosaki moved with a quick grace most dancers would be insanely jealous of, as he dodged attack after attack from his opponent. The orangette never lifted his sword to try and block any of the blows coming his way, causing the crowd around him was only wound up further by his play. That's really all this was to Ichigo: play. The tournament meant next to nothing to him. He was bored and wanted to find someone new to spar with. The purse was just a bonus; something that only helped put food in his belly at times of need. Ok, there was the issue of a bet, but other than that, this tournament was a waste of his time.

And so the boy with the odd hair color danced in the sun, turning, bowing, sliding, and dipping to avoid being hit by a deadly weapon. His opponent swung his sword in skillful, yet hopeless, attempts to land a blow, sweat trickling down his face into his armor. Ichigo chuckled, confidence swelling too high for his absent teacher's approval, but stopped. The blade had gone a little too close to his right eye for comfort. That certainly put him back in his place.

Ichigo scowled at the close call and minor falter. Figuring he had had enough of this game, he raised his sword in a beautiful arch that immediately halted his opponent's attack and moved under the joined blades to deliver a swift and powerful kick to the armored chest. The other man stumbled back and fell to the ground in a less than dignified manner. He lay there, trying to catch his breath from the sheer force of the blow.

The crowd erupted. Cries of joy and victory, most likely from those who bet on Ichigo, and of sorrowful anger, from whomever bet on his unknown opponent or knew his opponent personally, filled the young man's ears to the brim and he smiled at the spectators. He wasn't feeling it, though. The satisfaction he should have felt from defeating his final competitor wasn't with him.

Maybe he was getting sick?

Ichigo stopped the frown before it manifested. When was the last time he had gotten sick? Truly sick, not the kind of sick he gets from being around his brother. He couldn't remember any ailments since he was out on the streets, and he didn't want to think further back. That frown was really putting up a fight now, but Ichigo would have none of it; his smile only faltered for a moment.

Maybe he had won so many times winning wasn't a thrill anymore?

No, the tournament had never meant anything more to the man than training, it was true, but winning still should have made him proud. The purse money had at least enough to pay off his debts to the innkeeper and to Tensa and still have enough left over to put a few good meals into his belly. If nothing else, that should have him feeling a little cheerful.

Maybe it was too easy?

Ichigo thought about that for several moments as Lord Maxam, for whom this tournament was held, gave his speech about how Ichigo's victory showed he was the best in the lands and what-not. Truly, it only showed he was the best out of those who bothered to show up to the brat's tournament. The lord was no older than fourteen and 'ruling' his tiny lands with an unknowing hand. If it weren't for the boy's steward, council, and uncommonly wise younger sister, his city and surrounding lands would have gone bankrupt in a matter of months. The tournament was held in honor of his one-year anniversary of ruling, and during a bad time. It was no wonder all the good opponents hadn't shown or participated.

Yup, Ichigo decided it was definitely because it was too easy. He should, by all rights, not have been able to dance around in the final round, where supposedly the two best challengers faced off—the operative word being "challengers." His first fight was more difficult.

The young lord finished his speech and sent his sister, Attilade, to present Ichigo with his prize. She walked up to him with the grace a lady was supposed to possess when born into a lord's family. Her posture and aura were stately and mature as she held the purse out to the champion, but to Ichigo, she was still a little girl. Her thin frame and willowy limbs reminded him much of his own sisters'. Her raven hair and big doe eyes were so akin to theirs that he was almost convinced that if someone had taken his sisters and combined them into one person, Lady Attilade would be it. Even her shy smile when the champion accepted the purse with a small bow brought back images. The resemblance was too strong for him to ignore, but he decided to react to the nostalgia later.

Attilade left him and he gave a word of thanks to Maxam, before leaving the arena. He just wanted to go back to the inn and collapse on his bed, surrounded by the warmth of his furs. He'd worry about the images and his debts later. Sleep was more important.

"Hey, Ichigo!" And seemingly forever out of his reach. The said man turned to face one of his best friends and occasional sparring partner. "Where are you going?"

"Home."

"No, you're not. We have traditions to uphold." Ichigo sighed. He had forgotten about that. Ever since he and Renji had started participating in the tournaments or the games, they would go out to drink and find someone to take to bed or argue with. Mostly, it was Renji who found someone, while Ichigo kept to himself, listening in on conversations and the current gossip, most of which was complete garbage in his oh-so-humble opinion.

"I don't think this counts as a victory, Ren," Ichigo said with a wry smile. Renji flung an arm around his shoulders and started leading him off. "Every tier past yours was a complete bore. They should have pitted you against everyone else so we could have sparred in the championship."

"Ha! You put shame to that word, Ichi. No championship match deserves to be called such when it is won by a man wearing gloves."

"Very true."

"But we are still going out tonight!" Renji declared with that grin of his. Ichigo gave him a slight frown before a mischievous smirk took its place, which he quickly killed, lest it ruin his game.

"Where are we going?" He asked, feigning ignorance while running a hand through his orange hair, as though in resignation.

"Senbonzakura." Ichigo was barely able to suppress the smirk trying to work its way back into existence.

"Why there? Why not Wabisuke? I heard they have great bread."

"Senbonzakura has better service."

"Meaning shorter waits?"

"Precisely."

"Hmm..." Ichigo put on a thoughtful expression. Renji glanced over at him.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing important. I was only wondering if the waiting period is truly why you want to go there," Ichigo dropped his façade to allow his smirk to finally be born. "Or if it's actually, dare I say it, a woman?"

Ichigo had never before seen his friend blush so much, especially when it came to women. He was a player, and had enough experience in that department to cover them both. Now Renji's face was almost the same vibrant hue as his hair at the mere mention of the girl in question.

"It's not what you think." Renji muttered. His face was turned away but his words were barely audible to the orangette.

"And why's that? C'mon. You don't think I haven't noticed you sneaking out for entire weekends at a time?"

"You probably believe I only want her to lift her skirts for me, and don't get me wrong, I wouldn't turn her down if she did, but I want so much more than that," Renji said as he tried to explain. His voice was serious as he spoke, making Ichigo listen with a sympathetic ear. "I want to hold her in my arms, listen to her talk about her life, and have her hair run between my fingers, her eyes on me when she laughs or smiles. Ichigo, when I'm around her, my heart gets all fluttery, like a thousand butterflies had suddenly awoken inside me and decided to take flight. They seem to take my heart with them and carry it to her. They drop it at her feet for her to do as she wishes with it. When I talk to her, I'd say anything to get her to smile or laugh. When she speaks, no other sound is more beautiful. Her eyes become so much brighter when we get on a topic she loves and I can ACTUALLY see the different shades of the most amazing violets. I want those eyes only on me, and I get jealous when she's with other people...I know that last part sounded bad, but I can't help it. Ichigo, I-I think she's the one."

Ichigo listened and felt a pang of sympathy for his friend. He had followed the red-head once, curiosity overpowering his respect for the other's privacy, and he knew of the girl he spoke of; the younger, rather hostile sister of Sir Byakuya. She could probably best Renji in a fight if neither of them held back. He had heard she once killed a man from ten feet away, burnt him to a crisp when she found evidence he was an assassin. Poor Renji; she wasn't the empathetic type, so the chances of her seeing that his intentions went much, much further than the bedroom were slim. He didn't know what to say.

"Ren-"

"ICHIGO! RENJI!" They stopped and swung their heads to look over their shoulders at the third member of their trio. Shuuhei was an intelligent man, who only fought when attacked first. Ichigo had always respected him for that, especially since he himself had a temper to boot. When the man caught up to them, walking alongside Renji, they resumed their journey to Senbonzakura. "How was the tournament?"

"A jest." Ichigo spared no compliments.

"Ichi won." Renji elaborated.

"Then I hope, for your sake, Ren, that you didn't have any bets going on. I don't think your small purse can handle another loss." Renji gave a sigh.

"Oh, we had a bet," Ichigo cut in, voice gleeful. "I bet that I would come out on top, and I did. Although, I would hardly call that gathering a tournament, but I'm not complaining too much; I won two favors from our red-headed friend." Shuuhei winced.

"Tough luck there, mate."

"I should have just left it at the slap bet," Renji muttered darkly. His companions chuckled at his misfortune, but Shuuhei gave him a sympathetic pat, while Ichigo, looking for all the world like a kitten with a string, began thinking about what use he might put to his prize.

"I think that might have been best," Shuuhei agreed. "Did I miss anything else?"

"Nothing of any importance."

"Lies!" Ichigo leaned forward to talk around the taller red-head, a devilish smirk playing across his face. "I beat him in the first round of the farce-of-a-tournament, and we are going to be continuing our victory-celebrating tradition at a local tavern, called Senbonzakura, specially picked by Red, here."

"Since when do we decide where we get drunk before-hand?" Shuuhei inquired.

"Since Red found himself a gi-"

"Enough!" It seemed Renji didn't want that news to be shared with Shuuhei, which sent Ichigo into a world of confusion. "Don't you dare mock me, Ichigo!" Or, maybe, Renji simply didn't like the way the news was being told.

"I wasn't mocking. I was merely conveying the information in a simple way."

"Hold on. Were you about to say what I think you were about to say?" Shuuhei's eyes went wide when Ichigo nodded. "Great gods! Renji! When were you going to tell me your heart was stolen?"

"Not stolen. Carried off by butterflies," corrected Ichigo, adding hand gestures for effect. Renji elbowed him.

"Carried off by-wow. You've got it bad, don't you? When do I get to meet the lovely lady?"

"Assuming she's there, whenever we arrive at the tavern. I want to meet her, as well. Why didn't you ever allow us to accompany you, before?"

"Because eventually, one of you would have ratted me out to the masters to save your own skins," Renji huffed. When he saw their dark-haired companion open his mouth, he quickly added, "don't even think of denying it, Shuuhei! I've known you both for six years."

Ichigo blinked. Yes, they have been known to throw each other under the horse, but that was only when they deserved it. He still didn't think that a good enough reason to keep such information from them. If he had the time, or the drive, to think of women, Ichigo was sure he would have told both of them, if only to help provide and solidify alibis.

"But I haven't done that in a month!" Shuuhei countered, as if going a month, betrayal-free, was an actual achievement.

"Oh! Wow! A month? How difficult that must have been for you. However, you can quit your griping; we're here." Just as Renji said this, a deeper-than-bone chill penetrated Ichigo's being. Barely suppressing shivers, he stepped away from Renji's arm and turned.

"Sorry, Renji. I'm not going to be able to meet your lady-friend tonight. I'm heading back to the inn." Ichigo started walking as fast as his body would carry him. He didn't hear the confused questions Renji sent his way, or the protests Shuuhei shouted after him. He was focusing on simply putting one foot in front of the other. This chill caused the level of effort it took to walk to be on par with that of pushing a boulder up a hill, it seemed. It took all of Ichigo's will to wait until he was well out of his friends' sights to show any signs of being cold.

Gods be damned! Ichigo thought as he stumbled along the road. Couldn't he have waited until after I was sufficiently drunk or had my cloak? But no, Shiro had to choose now, the impatient bastard.

It seemed like the second most perilous journey of his life, and Ichigo couldn't have been happier to see it end. The innkeeper had let out a startled screech when the shivering man had burst through the doors, but he ignored her in favor of getting his body up the stairs to his rooms. He stumbled several times, but when he finally reached his rooms and unlocked the door, he let out a victorious, yet weak and pained, cry. To the innkeeper still on the ground level, it sounded more like a groan.

"It's about time!" a voice, laced with impatience, declared as soon as Ichigo had entered his rooms. Instead of giving the voice his usual reply, "go die," the orangette ignored it in favor of grabbing his cloak from its place by the window. "You took forever in getting away from those people you call friends. I was sure you had forgotten I was even there."

Ichigo shuttered when he felt the sun-warmed fabric of his favorite clothing article cover him from head to ankle. Instantly, he felt better. The over-bearing chill that had been stabbing at him was slowly becoming balanced by the heat of the heavy fabric.

"You couldn't have waited until I was warm?" Ichigo demanded. "Getting here was worse than that time I fell into a frozen lake, and let me tell you, that nearly killed me."

"Nope!" the voice chimed out. "Watching you suffer gives me too much joy."

"Bastard."

"If I'm a bastard, then so are you."

"Are you going to tell me why you pulled me away, or just continue making me mad?" Ichigo snapped as he turned to face the source of the voice.

"Now how, in the name of all things living and deceased, am I to know whether you're sufficiently pissed? I can't see your face under that hood." Ichigo glared at his brother, who was lounging on the tiny bed proved by the inn. He knew Shiro could tell what he was feeling, whether he expressed them or not. He also knew his brother loved pissing him off when he was feeling especially superior. "Besides, if you weren't so uncomfortable talking to me in a civilized manner in front of other people, I would have just blurted my news out earlier, and we wouldn't be having this issue."

"What news?"

Shirosaki pouted. "What? Still no 'hello, brother, good to see you again'? Why do I get stuck with someone who shows no appreciation for what I put myself through for them?"

"Shiro, I'm cold and my patience is wearing thin. The tournament was a joke, if I ever saw one, so I barely got any real practice, either."

"I saw that. Dancing in the last fight, Ichi?" Shiro shook his head. "If you keep testing your skills against such weak opponents, you'll get rusty in no time. Master Tensa's efforts will be wasted on you, and our goal will never be achieved."

"I know that!" Ichigo snapped. "But I got to spar against Renji, and I got the money to pay for another night here, the debt for my apprenticeship, and the rest can go into our savings."

"Renji? You think he's good enough? He has only managed to beat you once, and has only been falling further and further behind. Shuuhei might have been a better option, if he weren't such a stiff."

"He doesn't like to fight without cause, Shiro. You know that." Ichigo frowned at his brother. He understood why the other was so upset by his decision to enter Lord Maxam's little competition, but Tensa was out at the war, and they needed the money if they ever wanted to succeed. He was hoping he'd find someone new to spar with, but that was a complete failure. "Are you going to tell me what was so urgent you put me through an internal ice storm, or what?"

Shirosaki had never held such a huge grin on his face as he paused for dramatic effect. Ichigo scraped together what little patience he had left in his system, and waited for him to finish being a moron. "I found them."

Three simple words.

Three simple words were all it took for Ichigo to go from irritated to surprised and excited. Six long years of training under Swordmaster Tensa were finally going to be put to the test.

"Where? How?" Ichigo could barely contain his eagerness, but Shiro could feel it radiating from him like tidal waves.

"Being me, I found their camp along the western border, after over-hearing some conversation about them. I could hardly mistake their flag, flying so high and proud, or the face of their leader. How he still lives is a mystery to me, but I'm not complaining."

"How far is it to the next town?"

"Close enough that if we leave soon, we'll make it before nightfall."

"Then what are we waiting for? We have raiders to hunt!" And with that, Ichigo was sent into a flurry of movement. He gathered up some clothes, his purses, and a few extra items, stuffing them into a travel bag as he went.

"You are far too eager for someone who is about to go on a killing spree."

A.N. Please REVIEW! I love to hear people's opinions, so let me read them. I don't care if it's a positive or negative review (actually I do if it makes me feel like you're just being mean…) so just take the thirty seconds of your life to give them to me, please (puppy-dog eyes)