A/N: So, this was a short little drabble I wrote over on tumblr, and a very sweet anon (who won't be anon on this site, I guess :P) specially asked me to post it here. And, so, here it is~

Which brings me to my next point: For those of you who might not have made it onto my profile page for a while, I've been writing short drabbles just like these over there, which I never posted here simply because they're all pretty short and sweet. If any of you are ever facing HitsuKarin withdrawal, there's a link on my profile that'll take you straight to the things I wrote – if you would ever like to read them :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters.

When he finds her abandoned in the streets, his handlers are not the only ones who insist she's not worth his time.

His driver sneers down at her in contempt, perhaps having already forgotten that not long ago, he couldn't earn enough in one year's time to provide for his family – that it was the young lord's family who had saved him by giving him a job more rewarding and meaningful than cleaning horse stables.

Even his dog won't take a sniff anywhere near her, despite how much he loves people and always has. She's too dirty, too grimy and pale and sickly, to be given the privilege of any creature's presence.

He brings her home with him.

It's not exactly an easy feat, because no matter how much he speaks to her or kneels before her or tries to illicit some sort of response, she's lifeless. Her sunken eyes are too busy staring at the alley walls, her mind so lost in her own world that she doesn't even comprehend his existence.

He doesn't bat an eyelash. In a flash he's carrying her in his arms, bringing her back to the carriage with him, despite his handler's indignant cries of disgust.

"But she's filthy!"

"Your white gloves, my lord! Is she worth it, to ruin them?"

But he ignores them just as he never gives idiots the time of day, bringing her back to his home for a nice, clean bath and a hot meal at the dinner table. It's there, under the orange light of the glittering chandelier, that he discovers she's actually quite pretty; ruby lips that pucker in thought, pale skin with a complexion most women in high society bought expensive oils for, and hair as black as coal that shimmers like diamonds.

His servants suddenly have no degrading remarks to throw her way.

"Eat," he orders her, and to his surprise, there's a spark of irritation in the depths of her eyes, even as she automatically picks up her spoon. It's the wrong spoon, of course, not one meant to be used for soup, but he doesn't tell her because it seems too trivial a thing to say to her. Would she even care? Probably not, and then he would awkwardly end the conversation while feeling like a fool. It was best that some things were left unsaid.

After dinner, he has her set up in a room close to his own, offering her a soft bed lined with clean, white linens that smell like soap. She pauses at the door, turning her head back to see that he's watching her closely.

"A thank you would be nice," he remarks, looking at her expectantly, even if he's not getting his hopes up.

"…Thank you," she relents with a grateful nod. "And don't order me around, asshole."

He can only stand there, dumbstruck, as she shuts the bedroom door in his face.

.. ღ ..

It's much later – years later, in fact – that he makes his way down to the local pub under the heat of the afternoon, dabbing at the sweat beading on his forehead with a handkerchief.

It's as rowdy and packed as always, so much so that he goes unnoticed when he slips inside. Most of the patrons have their eyes glued to the counter, laughing along noisily with the worker serving them drinks or hollering good-naturedly for more.

He seats himself in the corner booth, chin in one palm, watching the scene unfold without a word.

A red-headed customer, with red, drunken cheeks to match, leans over the counter and flashes a grin full of teeth at the bartender.

"Don't ya think I deserve a free drink for comin' here so often?" he jokes, and he's met with both jeers and laughter at his words.

The woman behind the counter smirks, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Tell ya what, Renji. You beat me at an arm wrestle, and I'll give everyone here free drinks for the rest of the day."

The pub erupts into mighty applause, louder than before if it's even possible, while the two of them set their elbows on the table. Renji flexes his arm just once, showing off just how much muscle he has that would let him win this easily, but his opponent just scoffs with a roll of her eyes.

"Okay, ready," another patron calls from his seat. "Set. Go."

It's completely not a fair fight, because the second they've begun, she thrusts her face into Renji's until they're nose to nose. The red-head's eyes widen in shock, unable to look away from hers, and while he splutters away a blush, she pushes down his arm in an easy win.

"Renji, you useless idiot!" his friends all chide him teasingly, and pretty soon the entire bar joins in.

It's while she's laughing breathlessly that her eyes accidentally meet his.

"That's cheatin'," Renji grumbles, massaging his wrist after it had been slammed against the surface. "How's a man supposed to win when ya do that, even when he doesn't think of ya that way?"

"He's supposed to set his priorities straight," she snubs him, sashaying around the edge of the counter to the other side. "Now, excuse me, boys, because it seems I have a visitor."

They all grumble as she leaves, sad to see her go, but content themselves with drowning their sorrows of missing out on free drinks by drinking.

She slips into the seat across from his. "What can I get you?"

"Some rum would be nice," he replies coolly, "except the bartender has a dislike for me ordering her around."

She scoffs, but it's a sound that loses its purpose at the first sight of her grin. "I apologized for that the next day, so let it go, will ya?"

"Not a chance."

She shoves his shoulder playfully across the table, not even trying to hold back her smile any longer, before standing back up and announcing, "Rum, coming right up."

"Make it two," he quickly interjects. "Your break should be soon, right? So you're free to join me."

"And you're gonna pay?" she asks slyly, just making sure she wouldn't have to dig through her own pockets.

"When have I not?" is his cool reply, and a chuckle erupts through her lips.

"Fair enough," she admits, stretching her arms behind her head. "Let me repay you, though."

Cupping his chin with one hand and angling her head to the side, she plants a kiss right on his mouth, lingering sweetly for a few short beats. He's always loved how she closes her eyes when she kisses him, even though she doesn't have to because it's not a kiss out of love. Some part of her must have enjoyed this just as much as he's always relished it.

She pulls away in a heartbeat and slides behind the counter even quicker, already pulling two jugs out of the cabinets for his order. He's left feeling breathless at his booth, watching her move effortlessly at her station as if nothing had happened.

But he sees the dusting of red running across her cheeks, and it's enough.

.. ღ ..

He'd gotten her this job not long after she'd come into his home, for she wasn't the type of girl to freeload for long. It had been with great relief that she'd accepted the position, happy to finally have a way to earn her own living, and she'd even moved out soon after collecting enough pay to live on her own again. She's happier now, no longer the ghost of a girl she used to be the day they met, but he still likes to check in every afternoon that he can.

"I don't like being in debt to others," she'd claimed the day she moved out of his home, the things he'd bought her packed in her luggage as they stood at the front door for goodbye. "Tell me what I gotta do to repay you, and I will. Should I send you part of my pay, or–"

"Repay me in kisses," he'd told her, because she'd confided in him one day that she plans to never get married, and he thinks it's such a shame because she's beautiful, yet no man will ever get to treasure her like a lover.

"How will I know when I've finally repaid you?" she'd asked, suspicious of his words, and he'd suppressed a smirk at the way her eyes had slanted into distrustful slits.

"We'll stop the day I get married," he'd declared. "My wife wouldn't like me kissing some other woman, after all. When that day comes, we'll consider everything repaid."

She'd agreed, if a bit reluctantly, because her pride doesn't let her live peacefully when she has people to repay, and if he'd told her it was all he wanted, then it was what she would give him.

The day she left became a good memory, for they'd spent a good amount of time after their agreement just kissing by his entrance, as she scrambled to return as much of her debt as she could before she left. It was only when a maid found them and screeched in shock that she finally departed, muttering under her breath in embarrassment as he saw her off.

She had no way of knowing that he decided that day to never marry himself, just so he could enjoy a lifetime of her kisses.

A/N: Quite a few people asked me if I planned on continuing this after reading it, and for any of you who might ask me here, my answer is: I don't really have any plans on it. I might write a second drabble-ish chapter if I get hit with an idea, but I don't think I'll make this into a full one-shot or story. The biggest reason is that I'm already working on another story that's rather similar, at least because of the time period and differences in social class.

Lastly, to the person who asked me to post this here, I hope this makes you happy :) Your request certainly made me happy!