A/N PLEASE READ:

First of all, I really hope that people find this plot entertaining. Also, rating may change if I choose to include a few lemons in later chapters.

Secondly, yes there will be OC's, BUT they are merely structural devices on plot progression, and also to add some extra depth to the story. I'll make them as un-Mary sue as possible, but as always, I can't cater to everybody's tastes. But they will be minorish, and if people severely object, I'll remove them. Ok?

Thirdly, I hope the character's don't seem too OOC. Alert me if you think otherwise or have suggestions on how I can improve.

Disclaimer: You all know the jazz. Don't own Bleach yadayadayada only a few OC's.

Please Read and review, no flames, the usual!

Love,

SeventhString

Chapter One: Gypsy Behind Bars

Kuchiki Rukia hated boredom.

The movies really overrate your teen years, she thought dryly with a strange feeling of being cheated.

…Or maybe it was just her experiencing a premature mid-life crisis.

Her phone rang, 'Rangiku Matsumoto' flashing on the screen. "What do you want, Rangiku?"
"What are you doing today?" Squealed the voice on the other end.

"I might be busy. Why?" Rukia asked cautiously.

"There's a new bar downtown that I really wanna check out! You have to come with me!"

The raven haired girl sighed. "I'm busy."

"But who will go drinking with me?" She could almost see her best friend's pout, guaranteed to sway the boys perhaps, but would not sway her.

"You mean, who will take you home half-conscious and hold your hair while you puke?" Rukia snorted.

"Now you're just being mean, Ruki-chan!"

"Some other time." And she hung up.

Truth be told, she was sick of doing the same old thing every day. School had already bored her incessantly; everyday it was wake up, breakfast, school, come home, do homework, dinner, wash up and sleep. After graduation, she was dismayed to find that all which had changed was instead of school was work, homework became drinks, and dinner usually became non-existent, depending on whether she still had the stamina to eat after fending off the boys and dragging a blubbery, drunk Rangiku home whose woeful apologies did little to make up for the mess she usually left in Rukia's otherwise spotless bathroom. She was just on the brink of nineteen, living alone in a small but cosy apartment earned with her own funds. She had a steady job as a sales assistant in Readings, a trendy bookstore-cum-cafe in the heart of the city, every penny going towards her college finances. She was supposed to be feeling a lust for life, excitement, youth and ambition!

At that moment, all she could feel was an intense hate towards her car as the yellow light indicating a need for oil flashed on the dashboard.

"Damn hunk of metal." She slammed the door roughly, pulling ruthlessly out of the driveway to a chorus of violent honks of protest from the driver behind her. Sticking her finger out the window, she muttered 'damn bastards' under her breath before swerving into the highway, cutting into the middle lane a little too close for comfort otherwise, but had no effect today other than a grim satisfaction she received from having averted so near a danger.

There was one particular spot to which she gravitated when she was feeling pissed. The few people she'd told (few being Rangiku) had laughed at her peculiarity; most people seemed to prefer the dirty, noisy and raucous clubs to relieve their anger, engaging in coitus with a stranger whose name they would've forgotten by the next day. Perhaps it was the appeal of the unknown, the strange human impulse to jump off a cliff and pray there were no rocks below, which led to the popularity of this practise, but she had no inclinations to participate. Indeed, she even hated it.

"They're practically breeding houses for AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases." She muttered, veering sharply around the corner. "Nope, it's the dusty old book tomb for me." Parking in the nearest spot she could find, she hopped out from the car and began the short walk to the familiar grey building, swathed in green ivy, looking suitably dark and dull, just the way she liked it. There was an anonymity she could find nowhere else but between the covers of books, an escape which required no syringes or intoxication.

It was what her brother approved.

~.~.~

"I see her."

Behind the wheel of the Mercedes, an orange-haired man sat with the phone to his ear, his eyes hidden by a pair of sunglasses. His gaze was fixated upon a petite, raven haired girl, her mouth screwed up in an angry grimace. His eyes never left her retreating figure as she walked down the sidewalk with small, confident steps. The wind tugged mercilessly on her scarf, unwinding it from her neck. As she turned her head to secure the unyielding accessory, he caught sight of a pair of brilliant amethyst eyes.

"You sure that's Kuchiki's sister?" He asked incredulously.

"Of course! You do me shame, Ichigo, asking such unfaithful questions!"

"Just making sure." He scoffed back. Whatever possessed him to even consider this 'mission'? He rolled his eyes, fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel.

"And do you know what to do?"

Ichigo scoffed. "Now you're talking crap."

The voice chuckled into the phone. "Just making sure." There was a slight lull as Ichigo ignited the engine to a smooth purr.

"By the way, I never said that she was his biological sister."

"You're a bastard Urahara, you know that?" The latter snarled, but he was speaking to a dial tone. He sighed, shook himself, and drove slowly down the road, before parking on the corner.

"Well isn't this gonna be a piece of cake." He muttered sarcastically. Pulling off his glasses, he tossed them over onto the empty seat and clambered out. Looking around, he saw that the corner was deserted.

"Just grab her and go."

The girl was walking faster now, her heels tapping on the sidewalk with a sharp 'clack' on every step. She looked so small, so fragile…he suddenly felt an unfamiliar twinge of guilt. Walking forwards, he went and stood in her path, arms crossed, the streetlight casting menacing shadow across her face. Hopefully, he'd managed to look intimidating enough that she wouldn't throw too much of a fuss. Not that that little scrap of a woman could possibly offer him much resistance anyway…

"Get out of my way."

He almost started at the venom which laced through her words, each syllable sharp and distinctive.

"You've got a big voice for a small girl." He mocked.
"What do you want?" She asked, crossing her arms. Although she was at least two heads shorter than him, her neck craning upwards to meet his formidable height, she oozed contempt and an overall 'don't mess with me' attitude.

"Just have a few questions."
"I don't have time to play around with dicks like you!" She said angrily, and dug the toe of her boot into his shin. He yelped with pain, a string of profanities spilling from his mouth as he doubled over, clutching the injured leg.

"You little bitch!" He growled, standing straight with difficulty. Her triumphant grin was motivation enough for him to carry out the rest of his task, as he blocked her path with his body.

"I thought you would've gotten the message by now." She smirked.

"Are you Byakuya Kuchiki's sister?" He asked coolly, ignoring the throbbing pain coursing around his shin. There was definitely going to be a bruise there tomorrow.
Her forehead creased with the mention of the name. "What if I am?" She demanded.

He grinned, brilliant white teeth illuminated by the harsh street light. "Then I've hit the jackpot."

With one swift curl of his arm, he hoisted her up by the waist and carried her to the car. For a brief second, she hung limply in his grasp. Then, her instincts overtook her and she began to thrash wildly, raising her voice to an impossible volume as she hurled insults at him.

"Let me go you asshole! This is illegal! I'll have the police on you!"

"Orders are orders." He hoisted her unceremoniously into the passenger's seat, tying a bandana around her wrists to prevent her from escape, afterwards producing a length of rope from his pocket and, after carefully avoiding her kicking feet, tied her ankles together with strong, deft fingers.

"You really are a troublesome ransom!" He muttered, dodging her buckling knees as they searched for a painful spot to target.

"Ransom?" She momentarily stopped her efforts to escape, staring at him in confusion. "A ransom?"

"Guess I've said too much." He grinned, throwing himself into the drivers' seat and locking all the doors. "Buckle up, we've got a while to go."

"How can I when I don't have hands to?" She snarled, spitting expertly in his face.

He looked over. "Guess I can't break the road rules. Gotta keep the prisoners safe, says the Genova Convention 1929."

"1949 actually." She corrected him grudgingly. "That's when the fourth rule was added specifically for the correct treatment of Prisoners of War."
He looked at her amusedly. "Aren't you a little know it all?" His tone made her uncomfortable; for the first time in her life, she felt as though she knew too much, not too little.

"It's common knowledge." She snapped defensively.

"So is the fact that speaking to yourself is a sign of mental illness, but that doesn't put you in the doghouse, does it?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn't speaking to myself!" She glared.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" He yawned before reaching over. Her breath caught; his spicy scent of aftershave and male cologne overwhelmed her nostrils. She cringed as his arm brushed her hair skin, and when she opened her eyes, she was alarmed to find a pair of large brown eyes framed with long lashes right beside her cheek.

'A kiss?' It was the first thought which coursed through her mind. His mouth sat in a sullen twist, pink lips edging closer to hers…

"There. All strapped up and ready. Wouldn't your brother be proud of you now?" The orange haired kidnapper grinned insolently, challenging her with his piercing stare, daring her to attempt an escape.

'The seatbelt.' She found her breath coming in brief, shallow gasps, her heart hammering furiously in her chest. 'The hell did I think he was gonna do?' Even so, she couldn't help the brief lapse of disappointment which coursed through her veins like the buzz-crash at night after four cups of coffee in the morning.

"Now the finishing touch." He pulled a black bandana from the waistband of his jeans, folding it three times into a blindfold.

"You will not blindfold me!" She wriggled futilely on the leather seat, but his large hands held her head firmly, those long fingers tying the blindfold around her head. Her last glimpse of humanity before sinking into the eternal night was of a pair of brown eyes, laughing silently at her expense.

"What kind of a game is this?"

He almost laughed. "The best kind. A game of Hide-and-seek. Only you don't get to choose your hiding place. I do."

"Fuck you." She spat angrily, though through her bandana, it sounded more like 'Fmmmk oou!' Writhing helplessly on the seat, Rukia gave up at last, deciding to save her strength for later instead of wearing herself out fighting these iron knots.

"Fiesty." He revved up the engine. "You ready?"

"No." She snarled back, her voice brittle with anger.

He snorted. "Good."

First chapter done! Good? Bad? Next chapter will be the introduction of the 'Shinigami' so I hope everyone likes the jobs I've assigned to them.

Please review, but don't waste my time with flames.

Always open to suggestions!

Love,

SeventhString