A young man came out of an Onsen late at night, he sighed relaxed and took a look at the sky.

The full moon shone clearly over him and let his hair glow.

"Such a nice night."

He sighed again and pulled on his clothes to arrange them correctly, than he rested his left arm on the hilt of his sword and walked off.

Those clear nights were typical for this time, where no cars, factories or other smog producing things existed.

The young man lived in the Edo era of Japan, currently he was in a small village called Kagamino.

He passed by the towns brothel , where some whores waved him from their windows to come and have a great time, but as soon as his figure came into the shine of the lanterns and they saw his hair, they hurried inside.

The man scoffed, really annoyed.

His hair always frightened people and those who weren't always told him the color was a sign that he was gifted by the gods.

His hair was a bright color of orange-red, cut in short spikes.

He sighed for the third time this evening.

If he was gifted, why was his life a mess from the beginning?

He didn't know his father but it was said that he was a wandering monk, his mother died when she gave birth to him so as an orphan he was given to a temple and raised by the monks.

They always said the gods brought him there so he would become a great monk one time.

They taught him, together with the other children at the temple.

From the age of five he was pushed to study by the elders and bullied by the kids around him for his strange hair.

Soon he couldn't take the mean words and punches anymore, so he dyed his hair with the juice of berries that also were used to make ink.

His hair became a dark shade of brown than and he was left alone.

When he reached the age of twelve he met a monk who was different from any other he met before.

His hair was blonde and his clothing's looked strange for a servant of Buddha.

The monks name was Urahara Kisuke.

When the young boy went to dye his hair late at night he got caught by Urahara.

"Why do you hide your fine colored hair, young man?"

He asked him than.

The boy scowled and mumbled.

"So that the monks stop telling me I was chosen by the gods for something big and the kids stop hitting me."

"So you prefer to be a nobody that is left alone?"

"Yeah."

"And what if the monks are right?"

"How shall they know, it's not like there was a spirit who told them. I don't want to be a great monk!"

"What do you want to be than?"

"I don't know."

Urahara saw the rebel in the boy and knew, as soon as he was old enough to leave the temple he would be gone.

The man decided to teach him how to survive in the world behind the gates.

Fighting, condition, pride and wisdom were what he gave him.

When Urahara left the temple, the boy came to him, getting a last advice from the monk.

"Whatever you'll do in the future, always think well about how to use the things I taught you."

With fifteen the boy left the temple, looking for a life.

He joined up with the street kids and robbed food and water where he could or offered to work for a bit money.

It was this time, when he made a fault.

He tried to steal food from a soldier and got caught.

The soldier beat him until his face was all swollen and he lost a tooth.

He was half unconscious when he heard the voice of someone else than the cursing Samurai.

"Abarai, what are you doing? You are in the lords army to protect the people and not to punch them to death."

The man let go of the young boy and bowed deep before the one who had spoken.

"Forgive me Captain Kuchiki. This brat tried to steal the rice I just bought. I went to far, please forgive me."

The man, Kuchiki, wore a shining armor.

He walked past his subordinate and knelt down to the boy.

"Did you steal from the lords army, young man?"

The boy nodded lightly, as he pushed his aching body up.

"What is your name, boy?"

"I-Ichigo. I-I'm sorry. I've seen the many rice and I am so hungry, so I thought a little sack wouldn't be bad."

He looked down to the ground, ashamed.

"Well, Ichigo. I suggest that you come with us and serve for the lords army to pay for the spilled bag."

Ichigo looked up with sparkling eyes, than he bend deep and thanked the Samurai a thousand times.

In the feudal lords army he cleaned and polished armors and swords, fed the horses and brought messages from one division to the other.

Sometimes he took a sword he had cleaned and imitated the moves he'd seen the Samurai do when they trained.

Once the Captain saw him doing it he placed Ichigo in the rows of recruits.

The young man got trained in the way of the sword and fought many battles.

He was a great fighter and of the loan he got he bought his own sword some day.

It had a black scabbard and the swords hilt was also wrapped in black bandages.

The blade itself had some material forged in it that darkened the steel to an almost black color.

When he fought with it for the first time and came back from battle with the blade coated in blood his superior Abarai gasped at him with wide eyes.

At the camp fire he said that Ichigos blade had looked demonic with the crimson color on it and he said he feared the boy by now.

Ichigo didn't wear any armor, like the higher ups, what gave him more room to move.

His uniform was a black Hakama and Gi, so normal street clothes.

He could move fast like that and kill many opponents.

The speed he used gave him the name:

Kuroi Kami

The black god

Now that name was only history.

Ichigo left the army when the fights began to eat at his mind.

His sword was still beside him, sealed with a crimson band so he couldn't draw it anymore.

The fights changed him, made him into a demon on the battlefield.

He refused to ever become like that again.

Ichigo looked at the moon again, after he came back from the world of the past.

Was it just him or did the moon have a light shade of red?

"A bad sign?"

He whispered to himself, just before he heard a woman's cry.

"NO, Please stop it! Aargh!"
Ichigo didn't think twice but ran to the direction where he cry came from.

What he found let his stomach twist.

He stood on a small bridge running over the little river of the town.

The wood was covered in blood and body parts lay all around.

"What...?"

A snicker flew to his ears from the other side of the bridge.
"Yo. Stranger."

Ichigo looked up to see golden eyes shine through the shadows.

The owner of them emerged from the dark, he was pale as the moon, his hair white as his clothes, that were now covered in blood.

"Ya wanna die?"

The pale man launched at him, swinging his sword.

Ichigo pulled his sheathed sword from his side to block the swing.

"Why don'cha draw an fight me like a man?"

Ichigo pushed him back and while the pale one waited for him to do something, he took a good look at him.

The mans white hair was grown out in a thin ponytail at the back of his head.

The normal white sclera was black, certainly the man had inked them somehow.

Ichigo growled.

"Bastard, did you do that? Who are you?"

The man launched at him again.

"Ya hit the point. I'm a bastard. People didn't think I was worth of havin' a name."

The mans blade shone in the moonlight and Ichigo now payed more attention to it.

It was the opposite of his in color.

Sheath and hilt a plain white and the blade made of a bright steel, almost being white.

The pieces put together in Ichigos mind and he recollected stories he heard of the man in front of him.

"People call you Shiroi Shi, the white death. You fought for the feudal lord of the west coast. What are you doing here in the east?"

"Ran away from ma execution. So, who the fuck are you, orange boy? Think I've seen ya before, somewhere."

"I have no need to tell a murderer my name."

The white death swung his sword again and Ichigo missed his chance to block it.

Hit shoulder got torn, nerves and tendons were cut.

"So stranger. Do ya know what I do with ma prey?"

Ichigo knew, from the stories he heard.

It was horrible.

"Yer face says ya do. Too bad fer ya, ta match ma taste, so ya get ma special treatment."

Just when he moved to strike anew, they heard noise from behind them.

"Ah, bad. The night watchmen."

The pale shrugged and sheathed his sword, with a smirk.

"Yer a lucky one this time. See ya, stranger."

He ran away and Ichigo followed shortly after, not wanting to be suspected as the killer.

Ichigo ran through the streets to a small shop in a backstreet.

He knew someone who could fix him up.

He knocked and a bald man appeared in the door.

"What the...? Is that you Ichigo?"

"Will you just stand there or let me in, Ikakku?"

Ikakku stepped aside, asking.

"How did you get torn up like this?"

"Trouble, also know as white death."

"What? Here" I thought he was in the north."

"Seems like this was a wrong information."

Ikakku fixed him and ordered him to rest.

"So what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm asking if you will draw this sword again to get rid of him."

"No. I won't break my vow. Even if it means my own death."

"Dickhead."

"What did you say?"

"You are a dickhead. You know what he does with handsome guys like you?"

Ichigo nodded.

"Yeah. He cuts the tendons in the legs and arms, making them unable to run away, so he can abuse them until he kills them."

"Damn right. So you prefer to get screwed and killed rather than defending yourself and breaking this stupid vow?"

"I won't change my mind and he ran away."

"He will come back. You are his prey now."

"I don't need my sword."

"Yeah, because you have a death wish."

Ichigo growled at Ikakku, rising from his place.

"I'm leaving. Thank you for your help."

"Wait! Ichigo!"

The front door shut and Ichigo was gone.

So chappy one, done.

XD

I just noticed something I wanna tell you now, before I forget it again.

Recipe for this story:

For the basics you need to:

read, Rurouni Kenshin

watch, Gintama the movie – Benizakura...something

watch, Sword of the stranger

take some characters from bleach

than you take some ideas of your own and put them on top of it.

Put everything in the Yaoi-mixer.

Finished is Kuroshiro, the blessed and the damned.