Bleach's Aladdin?

A/N: This is a little story I found while looking through the shelves my room that hadn't been cleared out in a very long time. I was reminded of a short period in my life in which I attempted to write fanfiction, so I came back to visit this account, which was active for maybe 1 week before I chickened out and stopped publishing.

This particular story was dated 2006 and was originally titled "When They Were Alive" so my 13-year-old self probably intended this to be a series of some sort. It's a little bit embarrassing given my lack of life experience and writing experience at the time. Reading this through, I found myself face-palming at just about every paragraph. Honestly, what is with this cliché ending and writing style. And I'm not quite sure what setting I had envisioned for the story here since the description seems rather stereotypical. However, I found my weak attempt at writing rather amusing, so I'm publishing this for my enjoyment. Hey, I have nothing to lose, right?

Keep in mind that very little, if anything, of this story was revised. Enjoy pure 13-year-old inexperience in the form of writing!

The red-haired youngster sat perched atop the marble wall of the palace. The magnificent tiles of the pagoda roof shone with brilliance and the decorative vegetation in the gardens below were beautified by the noontime sun. But the beautiful scenery wasn't what Abarai Renji had come for. He wasn't going to climb a 10-feet wall just for the sights. No, he had come for the delectable food.

Growing up in the dirty slums of Edo, Japan, Renji had to develop many ways to obtain food without getting caught. Constantly living on the edge of starvation, Renji was not one bit ashamed of what he was about to do now.

The agile 10-year-old brushed noiselessly past the rose-covered bushes. Or at least he thought they were roses. He could never tell one flower from another, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that he knew every nook and cranny of this place and though his antics seldom succeeded, he continued to pay the palace a visit at least once a week. Renji figured if they had enough money to live in such an expensive house, they had enough food to spare for him.

Renji fixed his eyes on the dumplings steaming on the pan. He breathed in its wonderful scent. Untying the dirty cloth from around his head, he put it over his nose and mouth, creating a makeshift mask. He was against the wall of the old-fashioned cooking apparatus before the cook noticed any motion. Opposite the door, in case any servants came in, his tiny hands crawled upward towards the pan. Almost there… he could taste the greasy oil in his mouth already, savoring the juicy meat and fresh– Ow! A sharp pain ran through Renji's arm as the cook wacked him with a wooden spatula.

"Ugh! Get out, you dirty scum! Out! Don't you be getting dirt on their majesties' food!" he screamed, waving the spatula threateningly about and grabbing Renji's arm tightly so he couldn't get away. "I'm going to call the guards and let's see what they do about you, you insolent brat!"

"Let go! Let go of me!" Renji yelled as he kicked and struggled against the cook's strong grasp.

"What's all the commotion about?" A soft voice called.

Damn, not her again, thought Renji, recognizing the voice.

"O'hime-sama. This boy was just–" The cook stopped as the little girl approached and reached for the dumplings. He watched with wide eyes as Rukia piled a plateful of dumplings and handed them to Renji.

"O'hime-sama!" The cook protested.

"It's okay, Takashi. We still have a lot of food in this palace. Besides," Turning to Renji, Rukia smiled, "He really needs it."

The trickster scowled and looked away. "I don't need help from you," he muttered under his breath.

The cook, still looking incredulous, opened his mouth to protest once more, but Rukia shook her head at him, signaling him to be quiet. Renji broke himself away from the cook and took off. He heard Rukia call after him, "Don't get caught next time!" as he jumped through the bushes, cheeks as red as his hair.