A/N: Hello everyone! My name is SableWeiss and this is my first time writing a fanfic...ever. It's something that I have been meaning to do for a ridiculously long time now, just never got around to doing it. Ah, well at least I finally got started on one. And so, for my first fic, I present you with Bleach. Now it's DISCLAIMER TIME, cause I don't want to get sued. I do not in any way shape or form own Bleach. All characters and the entire story, manga, and anime belong to Tite Kubo, the lucky ingenious bastard.

Anyways, quick intro. This story is an AU, or Alternate Universe. Nobody is dead or a shinigami. Don't look for supernatural, you won't find it. This was inspired by all the latest Bleach episode endings. The ones with all the characters in everyday clothing. It kind of inspired me to write about where they would be in the real world. So I came up with this little idea.

This story is about an American girl named Mina who is on a forgeign exchange program and winds up at the Karakura High School. There she manages to make many friends. However, there is one person in particular that is always in the back of her mind. One of her teachers, the ever so popular Sousuke Aizen. There's just something about the man that makes her nervous, because nobody else seems to realize that the man is plain fuc-king evil. She could be wrong, but before the end of the first semester, she will realize that her teacher is in much deeper than she originally thought. And here she's been shooting her mouth off, proclaiming to the world that the man is evil. Not good, considering that no one would think twice if she ended up dead due to an 'accident.' Americans can be so careless.

This first chapter was my warm up/intro stage. Kinda like a prologue, but not really. I just wanted to work with my vocabulary and get into the role of how Aizen things. Believe me, it's not easy to get into the mind of a sane evil genius. At least I think he's sane...hmm. I would Really appreciate any forms of Creative critisism. I don't want to see anything like "This story stinks" or "You suck" and I will not tolerate, above everything else..."First!" No, I won't have it. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt, burned it in my backyard. Now, without further babble, Onwards! To the plot!

Starting Point

The blows kept landing, one right after another. Under normal circumstances, he'd be on the defense, looking for a pause between the attacks before making his move. But he had barely gotten away from that terrible scene with his life. He was in no shape to be fighting back. He had barely been standing when the fist connected with his face.

"You fucking little prick! How dare you talk back ta me!" the man shouted.

The two other men winced as the next blow knocked him off his feet. His head cracked against the wet concert as he landed. He absolutely refused to cry out. He did his best to push the pain to the back of his mind, so that he could start to think. But his earlier wounds combined with these current blows were doing a real number on him. If this kept up, the man might actually kill him.

The man stopped after he landed, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Dis," he stated breathlessly, wagging his finger at the limp body. "Is your fault. It's all your fault, kid! Why duh fuck, didn't you stick ta duh gods dammed plan!" he bellowed, delivering a fierce kick to the boys shins before he could receive an answer.

He didn't cry out. Even if he died he refused to cry out to some low life as this. But it didn't prevent him from gasping in pain before coughing the blood out of his lungs. 'That's inconvenient.' he thought, wheezing in pain. He struggled to take a decent breath of air into his starving, shredded lungs.

"Your plan…*gasp*..was st-stupid." he explained, needing to get his point across now since the dullard had refused to listen earlier. "How..in the world…hah..ha..did you expect..huh..that to possibly work? I told you before we…went in that it w-wouldn't work. If only they had gone in after the guard did the rounds-"

"Shut up!" roared the man, delivering a staggering kick to the side of the boys head. "I don't need some snot nosed brat ta tell me how to pull a hit! It would have worked perfectly, but you wasn't where you was supposed ta be!"

The other two men felt sorry for the kid. Truly, they did, but the man currently kicking the ever loving shit out of the boy was the one in charge. Though, thinking back on it now, the kid had a point. The plan wasn't looking nearly as flawless as their leader had explained it earlier. And in his defense, the kid had pointed this all out from the very beginning.

"I would have been the first to get killed in there!" the boy shouted through the pain. "I told you that, but you wouldn't listen!"

"Piss off you little fucktard! Because you didn't pull off your end of duh plan, Kurou, Hachi, and Takuma didn't have a fucking clue as ta what ta do! You threw dem off, and because of dat, dey all got killed! All because of you!" he finished by delivering a whopping blow to the young boys ribs. The boy chocked out a gasp, and would have vomited if it hadn't been for the fact that he had lost the contents of his stomach further down the road. The man started to pull his foot back for another blow.

"Honjou!" a voice called out from the darkness. Suddenly, bright car lights came to life, focusing on the small group of men.

Everyone froze save for the boy, who was in too much pain to do anything else. They turned to see an older man dressed in an expensive suit with four bodyguards, two on each side of him. His narrow eyes glared from behind his glasses at the scene before him. His wrinkled face seemed to be fixed into a permanent frown. The man's graying hair and obvious signs of old age did nothing to ease the intimidating presence he gave off. His gaze wandered from the boy on the ground to the man standing above him. It didn't take the men long to identify him as the boss of their yakuza.

"Honjou," his gravely voice rumbled. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked, sternly. He was far from pleased. Far from disappointment. He was infuriated.

The man, now known as Honjou, flapped his lips uselessly for a moment. The light finally illuminated all of the men. Honjou appeared to be in his mid-thirties. His hair was long and knotted and covered in grease, like he hadn't showered in days. The boy one the ground could vouch for this. His clothes, while they might have once been good looking, were oversized on the slim man and covered with dirt, blood, and wrinkles. He also had bruises covering his face.

The other two men looked around the same, though their clothes weren't nearly as nice as Honjou's were. Both had short midnight black hair and looked to be in their late twenties to early thirties. They were also covered in bruises from head to foot. One was even sporting a bullet wound in his arm, which he used the other to grip tightly.

Finally, the boy that was laying uselessly on the ground, who couldn't even turn his head enough to look at the old man, couldn't have been more than fifteen years old. His semi long brown hair splayed across his face, wet and knotted. His clothes, which had once been a simple white shirt, a light dark blue jacket, dark blue pants, and a good pair of running shoes had been torn up, dirtied and covered with blood. His face was a blotchy mess of bruises that were beginning to turn purple. He had blood running from his nose, forehead, and mouth. His face was twisted into a grim mask of determination as he gritted his teeth against the pain. His breathing was labored and came out in short gasps at best. It was impossible to tell if these were all from the beating Honjou had given him, or from the 'hit' that had taken a turn for the worst.

Honjou finally remembered how to speak, and began to sputter out a response. "B-boss! I can't apologize enough! I'm sorry boss b-but we really screwed up on da hit. We did manage ta get him, though." he grinned nervously, and still seeing the grim look on his boss's face, quickly sought to turn his attention elsewhere. Looking around, his gaze locked onto the boy below him.

"But it wasn't our fault!" Honjou exclaimed. "Honest, boss! It was dis," he spat, pointing at the huddled form. "Useless brat's fault! We had da whole ting plotted out, den he went and screwed tings up right in da middle of de job! Because o' him, we lost half our guys in an early shoot out!"

Inside, Honjou grinned victoriously, seeing no way his boss could blame this on him. And it was true. The brat had fucked everything over with his stunt. And there was no way in hell that he was taking the fall for it.

It was quiet for a few moments, when a weak voice struggled to speak.

"If we had followed….your plan to the T…we all would...have lost our lives. You were ill prepared and your so-called…surprise attack would have gone off better….had you just w-waited a little longer." The boy coughed and sputtered out more blood from his mouth. "…and besides…I..was the one..that took out Katsuya. Y-you, were too busy…running for the exit-"

"Shut up you fucking scum!" Honjou roared, drawing back his leg to silence the brat once and for all.

"HONJOU!" the old man bellowed, effectively ceasing any and all movement from not only the men in front of him, but also his own bodyguards. He glared fiercely at the man in front of him before starting forward. Once he was right in front of Honjou, he held out his hand.

"Give me your gun." he stated sternly, hand outstretched.

Honjou blinked nervously. "S-sir?" he asked.

"Don't make me ask again, boy." the yakuza boss replied, his glare deepening.

The younger man's hands immediately went for under his jacket, where he kept his gun holster. But once he had the gun out, he was really reluctant to hand it over to his boss. Hesitantly, he laid the small metal object into the old man's hands, and took a step back.

The old man examined it for a few moments. Then he quickly whipped it in front of him and pulled the trigger in two quick successions. Honjou screamed in agony as the bullets cleared each of his thighs. He fell to the ground clutching at the bullet wounds, sobbing in pain.

"You incompetent fool!" the old man spat at the pathetic man before him. "One of our members steals money, weapons, and drugs from me, and tries to get away with it. Do you have any idea how many people do that to me in a month? Katsuya, on the other hand, was more than just your average crack addict. But only slightly!"

The old man began to pace around the weeping mess. His disgust growing with every second. "He was no more than a blip on my radar in the grand scheme of things, but I am always on the lookout for these blips. They are what I use to try to give lower ranking members a chance to prove themselves."

He then whirled on the younger man. "Honjou, this was your chance! Did you honestly believe that I would not be watching and listening to every move and sound that you made? I had been given information that you had potential to rise in my ranks. But now I see that whoever it was that made this suggestion, must have been so high he couldn't have recognized his own mother!"

"The whole ordeal was pathetic! From your plan of action to the timing to how it was pulled off. I could have done better in my sleep! It shames me deeply that I had even given you this chance."

The wrecked man tried to protest, but all that came out was blubbering. The old man stopped in front of him. "I watched the whole thing from random security cameras. Koji," he pointed to the man without the bullet wound. "Was wired so that I could listen to what you planned to do! And let me say, this had to be the worst stunt I have seen in my entire career!"

His gazed flickered over to the huddled body of the boy, whose eyes were tightly shut, his breathing a little calmer. "Then, to my complete surprise, this young boy comes up with not a decent plan, but a very well laid out plan that would have pulled the whole thing off without a hitch! All of his advice was sound and solid. But you refused to listen to his advice. You refused, Honjou, to listen to your followers! Your subordinates! Fool of a man! Listening to what your subordinates have to offer you is key in putting not only yourself, but the entire organization, on a better road to success!"

The yakuza boss shook his head sadly. "Not only did you fail to protect your comrades, you failed to do the job that I gave you. You failed the opportunity that I gave you. I watched this boy," he jerked his thumb, where Honjou could see, at the huddled figure. "Run back into the fray to not only rescue Koji, but also take out Katsuya! 'What devotion,' I thought. 'What courage, what determination! Perhaps this whole thing hasn't been a complete waste of my time,' thought I!"

"But then I get here, finding you beating this brave young man half to death! Rarely have I ever felt this shamed, Honjou. And you are the cause. I am beyond disappointed with you. With how royally you screwed the whole job up, I should be disposing of you for the honor of your fallen comrades!" he shouted, pointing the gun to Honjou's head.

But the man could only sob pitifully and whimper his apologies, begging for his life. So shameful. So completely shameful. Slowly, however, the old man pulled the gun away from his head.

"However, I am unfortunately a rather forgiving man, as some would fault me. I will give you one. Last. Chance." he stated each word slowly, and clearly, holding his finger in front of the waste-of-air for good measure. "You will not get another one, Honjou." he whispered gently. And yet that seemed to be what scared the pathetic man the most.

Standing straight, the old man made a quick gesture. "We'll discuss how you will best serve the organization later. For now, I have better things to deal with." He finished, as his bodyguards rushed forward to drag the man off to one of the cars. The yakuza boss made his way over to the two roughed up men. "Are you boys alright?" he asked, his once hardened features softening enough to seem concerned.

Both young men nodded stiffly, trying to appear less pitiful then they were coming across. The old man smiled sadly. "You've had quite an ordeal this evening, and I'm sorry that things went so poorly. Takami, let's get that arm looked at back at headquarters, shall we." He gazed at both men before putting his hands on their shoulders. "I'm proud of both of you for sticking to the job that was given you. And I'm sorry for giving you such a poor leader to follow." He stated, solemnly.

The two men had to swallow a few times, trying to force down rising emotions. They nodded their heads, but remained quiet. The boss never apologized unless he felt it truly needed to be given. They then were escorted to the cars by the remaining two guards, leaving the old man alone with the boy. He slowly made his way over to the figure on the ground, until he stood directly over the boy's head.

"Can you hear me, boy?" he asked, gravely.

Slowly, the boy's eyes fluttered opened, slightly rolling into the back of his head due to exhaustion. He eventually managed to focus them onto the figure above him. Taking a few moments to swallow some of the spit and blood in his mouth, he managed to choke out a response.

"I hear you, sir." he replied, hoarsely.

The yakuza boss nodded his head in affirmation. He measured the boy up, but only a little. He wouldn't size the boy up until he was healthy again. While he looked a mess now, his profile picture showed him to be quite a handsome young man. But it wasn't his looks or his age that had drawn the old man's attention to the young boy when he profiled the men that Honjou was taking with him. It was his eyes. Something about those eyes. The old man shook his head and turned his attention back to the young man.

"That was some impressive work you did back there. You should be proud of yourself and your accomplishments. It is thanks to you that the mission was a success and our name was not shamed."

'Our name' being the Organization. The old man was the leader of a crime syndacate that currently controlled most of the western Rukon District. While they weren't an enormous organization, they had made a good name for themselves. Most other yakuza bosses held him in high regard and respect, along with his organization. He had done favors for them and they had done favors for him. It had taken him years of hard work, but he had managed to carve a good reputation for himself and his 'family.' For truly, that is what his subordinates were. Each and every member he considered as his sons and daughters, uncles and aunts, and even distant cousins twice removed.

The young man before him was also a son to him, though he did not know his name or his story. He vaguely remembered the boy joining not one year ago. He hadn't been surprised at the boys age. Younger had joined over the course of the organizations lifetime. But there had been something that had drawn his attention to the boy, even back then. What had it been?

A slight shifting drew his wandering attention back to the boy. He really was getting old if he allowed his mind to drift this much.

"Thank you, sir." the boy mumbled.

The old man nodded appreciatively. The boy was respectful of his elders. A good trait to have. He was also very educated. He learned this from when he overheard the conversations between Honjou and the other men. All of his men spoke a bit informally, which he always forgave. Not everyone could be educated, and they cannot express what they never learned. But they eventually learned, in time. The boy, however, spoke extremely formal, using correct grammar in all of his sentences and even using advanced words. Honjou, the poor fool, had a difficult time keeping up with the boy's advanced vocabulary. What was such a smart boy doing here? But he soon pushed this thought out of his mind. Never ask. You never know what misfortune these poor souls went through.

"How old are you son?" he inquired, politely.

The boy blinked a few times before focusing back on the man. "Fifteen, sir."

That was about right where the old yakuza had placed him, so he nodded. "Tell me, boy, what are your thoughts in moving up the ranks in our family? You have a long way to go, but I see potential in you." Actually, he saw a lot of potential in the boy. But he made it a personal rule to never help the young inflate their egos. They die faster when you do.

The young man fixed his attention onto the older man, locking eyes with him. "I would like that very much, sir." he replied, steadily and sincerely.

There! There it was. The very thing that had been stirring in the back of his mind. It was those eyes. Despite the pain he must have been in, the boy managed to lock those eyes onto him. They stirred up memories that he had not had in years. When he was younger, and still in the process of building his syndicate, he had looked for men that had those exact same eyes!

"…What is your name, son?"

The boy's lips upturned ever so slightly. And his image became perfect. Those eyes combined with that smile, made the ideal members that he had always looked for. The eyes spoke of intelligence, determination, honesty, and conviction. However, it was the smile that spoke of nature. And this boys nature, was without a doubt, deadly.

"Aizen Sousuke." he introduced himself, ever so politely. Even though his face and body were a mess, they would heal. He knew they would. And suddenly, his eyes seemed to glow in anticipation.

A/N: And there you have it! My first chapter to my first fic. Don't know if I love it or hate it. Like I said earlier, this was just a warm up intro to get me into the groove. Again, creative criticism or general tips would be greatfully accepted and appreciated. If you want, here's a little preview on how the next chapter will look like. Just to show you that it won't always be so dark.

For what had to be the hundred thousandth time that day, Mina wondered what in the name of all that was American was she doing here in Japan! Then she proceeded to have an 'Oh yeah!' moment, and went back to walking around in a daze until she saw something that was so totally Japanese, and proceeded to go through the conversation again.

Thanks again!

SableWeiss