Okay, so this is the first time I've ever written something like this, so you'll have to bare with me. ^.^; For anyone waiting for the next chapter of Crossing Paths, I'm afraid that it's on hold for now. I haven't been feeling up to finishing it just yet, but I promise that I'm not just going to abandon it~

Secondly, all warnings are in the description. This story isn't going to be cute and fluffy in any way, so if you came here looking for that, now is a good time to turn around and leave. You have been warned.

This story is plotted out to have nine chapters. Maybe go over, and it'll be written slowly, seeing as how I'm such a bad person when it comes to updates. ^.^; Anyways, hope you all enjoy~

The sounds of shouts and painfilled screams echoed through the tattered streets. Grey concrete dripped with blood and rain, the two liquids running together to create garish ruby that painted the streets against the worn stone. In an almost grotesque way, bodies were scattered along the ground, the same crimson paint running from them and mixing to create a surprisingly beautiful battle painting, one that spoke horrors and trivial times of sins and injustices. Some of them wore rain-soaked blue, while others were stuck with red cloth plastered to their cracked and bloodied skin. Among them lay a curled up heap, something that didn't even seem remotely human. Long crimson tresses lay heavily against the torn ground, soaked and weighted.

The strange mass gave a twitch, and unfurled enough to reveal a pained face and black tribal tattoos. They seemed to be a gang marking, and stood out against the strange male's tan skin. His shirt was torn slightly, revealing a gaping hole in the side of his shoulder, and the man was panting from the exertion at the small attempt at movement. Blood was pool between his arms, which were twisted strangely against the ground, slightly pressed against his chest. The rain washed most of it away, leaving streams of life that led to a dying soul, but still, a small pool of crimson gathered directly on the concrete. Around his neck, tied lightly, was a small band of white cloth. He seemed almost neutral, for he wore neither red nor blue, but what he was doing there injured was anyone's guess.

As his ears managed to even out their abilities yet again, the sounds around him quickly escalated into more gunfire. A barrage of shots hit the wall several paces away from him, leaving a shaky line in the chipping stone as a red-banded man raced by. Seconds later, heavy footsteps splashed into a puddle by his head. The injured unknown probably would have been ignored, if not for the groan that left his lips. It was involuntary, but it was there nonetheless.

Pained crimson eyes slid open through a dramatic feat, and his head lolled to the side. He squinted, attempting to keep raindrops from falling into his already reddened orbs. The sight he was met with was a tall male with dark blue hair. Several strands were plastered to his forehead, and he was staring down at the injured one with a solemn look. Around his arm was a band of the darkest blue, matching the color of his glittering eyes. Defined muscles bulged against the black shirt that the sudden person was wearing, and not a single mark was upon his frame, apart from the small circles of blue below his eyes. Another small noise left the redhead as he realized what was pointed at his head.

The metal was shining in the falling rain, slick with the promise of being fired once again. It was a sturdy weapon, made for situations such as these. Gripped firmly in the blue-haired male's hand, the gun seemed to fit perfectly within the gloved contours of the hidden appendage.

And Renji- yes, that was his name- knew he was going to die.

"Ya seem pretty banged up there."

The voice was smooth and dangerous, and Renji wondered why his head was still in one piece. Rain made it hard to focus, but he managed, and turned dying crimson eyes onto the one who had spoken. "Almost like ya aren't gonna live, is what it looks like ta me."

Several more seconds of silence passed.

"What makes me wonder, however, is why a civilian is lyin' out here, shot and bleeding. Ya get caught up with the gang life just recently?" Renji was too weak to answer the words thrown his way. Besides, if he was going to die anyway, then he didn't have to grace this stranger with the last words that he was ever going to speak.

"I could save ya, if you'd like."

Those words brought his reeling mind out of it's daze, and he looked up at the blue-haired man. Although the sounds did not make it into the rain-soaked air, the movement of his lips said it all, "Why?"

Seconds of silence passed between the two of them, and Renji struggled to focus on his face. There was no emotion across those features; they were strong and firm, and spoke the truth of the offer to be saved. "Because someone like you doesn't deserve to die in a battle that isn't your own."

"Heh. Wish someone could have told me that before I decided to take a walk."

Above them, echoes of gunshots and yells still laced the blood-scented sky. Renji watched a bullet soar by the mysterious stranger's head, to which he moved the gun pointed at his own away and aimed in to his left. Without so much as flinching or even sparring a look in the direction, he squeezed the trigger and allowed a silenced shot to soar through the air. Moments later, Renji heard a cry of shock and pain, before a splash as a body tumbled onto the ground.

He winced.

"Heh, rememberin' what ya went through a few minutes ago?" The words were teasing, and it made Renji slightly sick to think someone could kill without remorse. "Tell ya what; I'll save ya, fix ya up, and then send ya on your way. How's that sound?"

Nothing sounded better than those words. Unfortunately, his rescuer had no intention of saving him right at that moment. "If ya can stay alive long enough for me to go save my target, then I'll take ya back with me." What the blue-haired man did do, however, was drag him to the cover of a small overhang. The cloth flapped in the wind, but it stopped some of the cold rain from splashing onto his skin, and for that he was grateful. "Stay here and try not to bleed to death, and I'll see what I can do from there."

Before Renji could get a word in edgewise, the man stalked off.

In the end, Renji managed to surivive long enough for his rescuer, who he later learned was named Grimmjow, to come back for him. Even although it took four days for him to wake up, the redhead managed to pull through. He was still pretty weak, but he awoke.

Because of his unfortunate walking into a gang war, he was sucked into the gang life, never to be allowed a civilian again. He was taught to fight by Grimmjow, given his own gun, and appointed the man's personal guard. They shared everything between one another; thoughts, ideas, whatever dreams they had, life, ect. They joked, and together they seemed to be perfect. Nothing seemed to dampen their relationship, and it only grew stronger as time passed.

It wasn't until about two years after his rescue that he noticed a shift in Grimmjow. It came with the passing of his brother. The man grew cold, and even snapped at Renji on occasion, which confused the redhead. They had become lovers of sorts, and hardly ever grew angry at one another. Sure, they played around and pretending to fight, but this was no playful spare. Grimmjow became distant, and stopped sharing his thoughts with the one closest to him.

And then one day, it all broke.

Grimmjow turned abusive, and nearly killed Renji. But it wasn't quite Grimmjow, because something else was different. The other friends that he had accumulated through their gang, called Pantera, helped him escape. They moved Renji to a new town, gave him a sense of security, and assured him that he would be well-hidden from Grimmjow.

He hasn't seen the man for eight years.

Renji jumped as he realized he was thinking about those times again. He shifted his elbow away from the slanted desk, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to work the cricks in them. He'd been sitting there for a while, pen clasped between his fingers, red eyes staring blankly at an equally blank wall. The redhead had been sitting in this room for a while now, trying to fill out an application for collage. It had been mere minutes and a few sentences before the memories of his past had begun to plague and play with his mind yet again.

Grimmjow flashed through his mind, and his expression dropped slightly; it had been a while since that name, that face, had decided to haunt him, and it hurt, oh it hurt. He'd gotten over the man, sure, but that didn't change the fact that everything had happened; he'd fallen, gotten picked back up, and then let fallen again. But he couldn't really call it fallen. More like broken. Yeah, that was a better explanation; he had almost died after all.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, and deciding that nothing would get done at this rate, he capped his pen and stood up, smoothing the jeans and white t-shirt that he wore. In bold black kanji across his chest, followed closely by a twisting dragon, was a small saying, 'never forget.'

Never forget the pain you went through.

Renji placed the papers into a small plastic folder-red, like always- and went to the door.

"You finish already?" He looked up as he shut the door, spotting the silver-haired receptionist sitting at his desk. The man had intellegent eyes and wore wire-framed glasses. He wasn't old, but he wasn't young either, and already had a son. Renji had met him before, and he had been offered help in the form of tutoring, but he had never taken the younger one up on the offer. The good thing about them being somewhat friends was that Ryuuken, the receptionist, was also a doctor. He worked at the hospital in town, and from what Renji had heard, he was quite good at his job. It was always a good thing to know a doctor, that was for sure.

"Nah, I'm too distracted today. I'll finish it tonight and bring it in tomorrow. Sound good?" A sharp look was thrown his way, and Renji gave a feeble smile. "I promise, I promise! I won't be late this time!" Ryuuken sighed. "As long as you can get it all in by tomorrow, I don't mind." Renji said a silent victory in his mind, before trotting off.

"I won't disappoint you, Ryuuken-san!"

He got a dismissive wave of the hand and grinned, slipping into the elevator.

His walk home was uneventful and dark. He had spent all day at the college, trying to find a way to get in. In fact, that was where he spent most of his time now. It was a nice place, and he desperately wanted to get accepted into it. Renji yawned, gripped his bag strap tighter, and continued trotting down the empty streets. Everything was calm, and he was grateful for nights like these. That is, until several gunshots tainted the air.

The redhead dropped to the ground out of instinct, for this is what he had done nine years prior, when he had been the young age of seventeen. He was twenty-seven now, but that hadn't dulled any of his skills.

When it became apparent that the shots were not directed at him, Renji glanced around and stood. He had been through this before, only then he hadn't known what to do, and had gotten shot down. The scar was still there, right below his ribs on his left side; it still ached from time to time. He, being the curious person that he was, wanted to know what the hell the shots had been fired for. Or at, rather. Renji slid through the alleyway, even though he honestly had no idea where he was supposed to go, or if he was even going in the right direction, but he went anyway. Curiosity killed the cat, so to speak.

He honestly didn't know what he had been expecting. The redhead was probably expecting to find nothing, so when he did come across something, or someone, rather, he felt his heart drop. But what made his heart drop even more was the blood slowly leaking from the twisted frame before him. His eyes widened, and Renji spotted the single object lying on the ground near his feet. To anyone who didn't know the signs and things that gangs used to distinguish themselves, it would have been a simple piece of cloth, but he knew exactly what it was.

The cloth was blue. It was tattered and covered in crimson, but blue.

Which only meant one thing.

They were back.

Horror filled him, and took a shaky step backwards. No, they couldn't be here, not here of all places. If they were back, that meant that Grimmjow was here too. And if Grimmjow was here, then he was most certainly looking for Renji.

He glanced up at the bleeding heap before him. Were they a member of Pantera as well, or were they someone who had opposed them or stolen from them, and ended up here? But he knew, in that moment, that if he helped the dying stranger, then he would once again be sucked into a life that he had done everything to escape.

But if he didn't, they would die, cold and alone out on the streets.

His mind was already made up, and he reached a hand out to gently touch the unknown person. A groan answered him, and Renji apologized once before rolling the form over. The cracks along the ground were already filled with the dark spills of blood. It looked like ink, and he shuddered at the similarity. Crimson eyes, brighter than the liquid along the ground, slid over the stranger's form. It was a man, with a horribly scared face. His other cheek was tattooed with a 69, and Renji paused for a moment, looking at it, tracing it with his eyes.

He glanced back at the man's face, and reached up to tug at the strange metal collar around his throat. It brought another groan from the mystery man's body, and Renji realized how much this reminded him of his own situation nearly ten years ago. His eyes roamed over the man's body, and picked out two distinct wounds along his form. One looked like a scratch from the sideswipe of a bullet, and that was located on his right side. Didn't look too bad, but it was bleeding badly, which was probably the reason for most of the blood along the concrete. The other wound was more complicated, however.

There was a hole there, and Renji assumed that the bullet was still lodged inside. It was deeply imbedded in the dark-haired male's left thigh, and blood was steadily oozing from the wound. "Hey, you can still walk right? I certainly can't carry you back to my apartment." He watched as watery grey eyes opened to look at him, and he sighed softly, realizing that the man could at least manage that much. The progress was slow, but he eventually managed to pull the stranger into a somewhat standing position- well, he was sort of leaning on Renji, but whatever. He was just glad that the male was small, otherwise there would be some problems.

With that in mind, Renji stumbled off towards his apartment, almost dragging his injured tagalong as he hurried onwards. They didn't speak a word, the silence broken by the sound of their panting as they attempted to get to a safe place. The redhead already knew what he had gotten himself into, and he wasn't quite sure he regretted it yet. But he knew he would be soon, for nothing went unnoticed in such a place as this.

Their progress was slow, but eventually he managed to get the stranger to his apartment. The door creaked as it slid open, the floors squeaking in protest as he hefted the now unconscious stranger onto the couch. Renji took a gasp of air, before he made his way to the bathroom and dug around in the cupboard for the first aid kit. His home was small, and he was barely getting enough money to live, but it was decent enough, for him anyway. Wasn't like anyone else lived there with him, until now that is.

The box was cold and heavy as he finally found it. Renji pulled it from the cupboard and headed back into the living room, the plastic unfamiliar against his fingers. He dropped his bag, which he hadn't realized he was still holding, onto the floor. He popped the first aid kid open, glancing at the things inside as he attempted to remember how to treat wounds.

It had been awhile, but eventually he wrestled the bandages from their case, dropping several balls of cotton onto the carpet. He didn't quite know what to do for the bullet in the stranger's leg, but he would at least try something. Renji dabbed some of the peroxide onto one of the cotton balls before moving it around the scrape in his guest's side. He heard a hiss of pain leave those lips and froze, glancing up at the stranger. "Fuck, that hurts." They were the first words that the redhead had heard the man utter. His voice was rugged, but it was laced with a tone that Renji had never heard before. It was an almost submissive type of sound to his words, as if he expected to get struck across the head due to the outburst. It rasped against Renji's ears, and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Of course it does; you just got shot." As soon as he said that, eyes snapped open and the stranger attempted to sit up. He didn't get very far, and groaned as his leg arched off of the couch. "Shit, I didn't think they actually hit me." The redhead went back to cleaning the wound without stopping, causing a noise of surprise to leave the male he was tending to. "It's only gonna hurt worse if you don't let me treat it," he said matter-of-factly. Without further protest, the brunette relaxed against the couch below him. The only signs that signaled he was still awake was the occasional twitching in those muscles as Renji wrapped cloth around his middle in an attempt to stave the bleeding from his side.

"Now ... are you gonna tell me your name?" Renji asked, sitting back.

Silence met his question, and he wondered briefly if his guest had passed out once more. He figured he wasn't going to get an answer, until a tan arm shifted to reveal pained grey eyes.

"The name's Hisagi Shuuhei," he said with a shrug.

Renji pressed his hands against his thighs, giving a nod. "Right then. My name is Abarai Renji, and I want to know why I found you shot in an alley." He didn't mention the blue cloth that signified 'Pantera.' That would be best kept a secret, for anyone who knew about the gangs and weren't a member were just as easily killed as a pebble was stepped on.

"Heh, you probably won't believe me. I'm part of this gang that's been centered in Eastern Japan for about fifteen years. I refused to do something that their leader asked me to, so he kicked me out, chased me down, and attempted to kill me here in this little place. Guess I didn't die like he was hoping," Shuuhei said with a smirk, as if he found the entire situation amusing.

Renji didn't.

"So you ended up in that alley cause you disobeyed your leader?" His answer was a nod, and Renji stood up, setting the first aid kit onto the glass coffee table. "I hope you know that you owe me big time for saving your ass. This isn't exactly the world that I wanted to become entangled in again. Thirsty?" He asked, walking into the kitchen without waiting for an answer. A call of yes echoed through the tiny apartment.

It was most certainly Pantera, which meant that they were probably still prowling around the town. They had been centered here once, a long time ago, and knew the place well, for it was Renji that gave them the grand tour. He sighed, and swiped the coffee pot from the shelf with a bit more force than he probably needed. "I didn't want to get caught up in this again," he murmured quietly, pressing a hand to his tattooed forehead. If he got lost in the world of the gangs and their wars once more, it was only a matter of time before he came across Grimmjow again. And there was nothing to suggest that Grimmjow would let him go free.