*Disclaimer: Bleach and respective characters belong to Kubo Tite, however this story belongs to me.
Contains major spoilers for the "Turning Back the Pendulum" canon story arc.

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Yokohama, 1949.

In the dimly lit room filled with people and chatter from the tables surrounding him, Hirako Shinji leaned back in against the worn leather in a booth far too large to house one person. Although this bar was packed, no one dared to come near him except for the occasional drunk and disoriented female looking for a good time or a quick buck. He supposed it because of the way that he looked that people kept their distance. World War II had only been over for four years and the large cities of Japan were trying to rebuild themselves, slowly adjusting to occupied regions of American soldiers. Nearly everyone assumed that he was foreigner because of his natural blond hair and hazel eyes. The truth was that he was once a stranger to this land, but that was hundreds of years ago. After his death and going to Soul Society, he embraced the Japanese culture and called it his own, having long forgotten his native tongue and homeland.

He thumbed across the top of a shallow glass filled with a dark liquid and brought the rim up to his face, deeply inhaling the scents of a dominating smoke and lightly floral oak. He sipped, letting the aromatic liquor settle across his tongue before swallowing. It left a warm path as it traveled down his throat into his stomach.

Now that was the good stuff.

The sound of crashing poker chips caught his ear and he turned his head into the direction of the commotion. A heavyset man was yelling at a fellow card player, calling him a cheat. The dealer tried to reason with the obviously inebriated man by explaining the situation and instead found a fist coming towards his head. A young man in an expensive suit quickly appeared out of nowhere and easily overtook the sloppy punch. He spoke firmly but calmly to the drunken man, although at this point his words were falling on deaf ears. When the card player pulled back for another swing, the well-dressed youth immediately pulled a Walther P38 out from the inside of his suit jacket and struck the man across his temple with the grip. With his free hand raised in the air, he snapped his fingers and pointed down to the unconscious man. A group of men around the same age promptly appeared and dragged the man to the front doors, unceremoniously tossing him out onto the curbside.

Concealing his weapon, the young man with shaggy, layered hair—so dark it barely had any sheen—straightened the creases out on his pin-stripe suit and looked around the rest of the gambling bar with an air of authority. His juniper tinted eyes shot a warning to the other patrons, remaining cold and calculated as they moved from table to table. "This was nothing," they spoke clearly to the crowd, and they immediately understood what he meant. After all, this place was owned and operated by the growing Yakuza gang Inagawa, and you had to be stupid to willingly start a fight here unless you were prepared to kill or be killed.

Shinji caught eyes with the young leader as his stoic gaze passed by his table, and he tipped the rim of his fedora hat down to the Yakuza member as a sign of respect. He wasn't there to start any trouble unless, of course, she had other ideas. It was still baffling to find that she of all people was working as a waitress in an illegal gambling bar. He had to see this for himself, so he hopped on the next train to Yokohama and found himself sitting here in this dank room on the northeast side of the city.

His whisky was getting low by the time he finally caught her out of the corner of his eye. It was just a flash of light blonde, but he knew it was her. Her hair was still pulled back into pigtails, but this time they were hastily wound into buns with her signature red ribbons. Long bangs brushed across her face and large amber eyes. The freckles on her high cheekbones had grown a little darker over the years, but the rest of her was the same. The same pouty lips lead down to the sharp point of her chin. She had always been petite, and the modern clothes clung to her small curves.

As much as she tried, she still barely looked a day over fifteen. It was rather amusing to watch this group of young men trying to chat her up. If they only knew that this seemingly teenage girl was old enough to be their grandmother and could have easily snapped their necks if she pleased, they would have been wiser than to put moves on her. So when one of the rowdy boys gave her a hard slap on her bottom as she left with their order, Shinji sat back to watch the violent chaos unfold.

But it didn't. She froze and her fist coiled at her side so hard that her knuckles turned white, but then she just walked away from the laughing group without even looking back.

Shinji frowned. This wasn't the Sarugaki Hiyori that he knew. The Hiyori he knew would have made those men spin around faster than they ever thought they could, then repeatedly punch their face into the ground. She would have left them black and blue, standing over the pile of their broken bodies with a triumphant look on her face, laughing maniacally. The Sarugaki Hiyori he knew would have never let a man touch her like that in first place.

Soon enough, she was back with a round tray filled with various beers, whisky and sake. She never made eye contact with any of the men in the group as she placed their drinks in front of them, at least, not until one of the larger ones grabbed her arm with a tight grip. Her short brows furrowed and her mouth flattened into a thin line. But still, she didn't fight back. Shinji shook his head with disappointment, sucking his teeth in a grimace.

Placing a few bills next to his unfinished drink, he slid out of the booth and made his way to the group, which had already started to get disapproving stares from nearby tables.

"Is there a problem here, Miss?" Shinji drawled out, discreetly placing his head close in between two of the men.

"No, I'm fine," Hiyori responded in a barely controlled tone. She turned her face over to see who had interrupted and practically choked on the air in her lungs.

"Sh-Shinji?" she stammered, her eyes growing wider as the seconds ticked by like minutes.

"Hey, kitten," he flashed a toothy grin. "How goes it?"

Hiyori couldn't speak—she simply stared at him in shock. One of the men at the table glanced back and forth between the two of them and broke the awkward silence. "So what, are you her brother or somethin'?"

The obnoxious voice snapped Hiyori out of her trance. She shook her head firmly. The light of hope that had shone in her eyes when she saw him again for the first time in nearly twenty years quickly died.

"No. He's no one."

With those few words, she turned away from the group and headed towards the back. Shinji immediately fell behind in step behind her, maneuvering through the dense crowd with ease. He caught her elbow before she could retreat into a highly guarded area and pulled her into a narrow hallway.

"Get your mitts off me, dickhead," Hiyori instantly hissed, jerking her arm away from him and crossing them under her chest.

"Now there's the Hiyori I knew," Shinji teased, peering at her under half-lidded eyes. If it wasn't for her foul mouth, she would be damn cute. Her small hip jutted to the side as she struck her pose. The knee-length black dress exposed her smooth, toned calves and a row of buttons lining the side left side followed the curve of her modestly sized breasts. He had to mentally kick himself to get back on track.

"So, how've you been? I mean, except for not kicking those goons in their jewels for grabbing your ass."

"None of your goddamned business," she grumbled. She moved to get past him, but he struck an arm out in front of her steps to block her path.

"You gettin' soft?"

"Don't make me break your fuckin' nose, Shinji."

"Like you could ever reach that high." A solid crunch reached Shinji's ears and the sting of salt water immediately pricked his eyes as the pain spread across his face. He sniffled and wiped fresh warm blood from under his nose.

"You hit like a girl," he slyly grinned. Hiyori growled and reeled back for a second blow, but Shinji was faster and caught her wrist midair, her tiny fist curled into a tight ball less than an inch from his face. He pulled her arm towards him, bringing her closer and leaned down until his eyes were at her level.

"See? You are gettin' soft."

"You're a prick." Hiyori's face was twisted into a scowl. She looked away from him when his thumb rubbed across the skin on her wrist.

"So were those thugs at the table, but I don't see you wailing on them."

"You deaf or something? I said it's none of your fuckin' business."

"I think you used a different swear word the first time you said it."

"Fuck you," Hiyori spat. The petite girl struggled to get her hand free from Shinji's grip, but was in no position to get away. The hall was narrow and she was close enough to him as it was.

"I'll let you go if you fess up," Shinji relaxed his grip. Her brows were knitted together in such fury it made him smile on the inside. At least she wasn't completely a softie, she was just acting like it for some reason. From the outer room someone was calling for her to check on her tables so at this point, she didn't have a choice. Defeated, Hiyori jutted her chin up to him with full authority, letting him know she was saying this out of protest.

"Look asshole, I can't have another outburst, okay? I can't afford to lose this job." Her eyes dropped in a light shame and her voice grew quieter with the last sentence.

"Do you need money? I can give you—"

"It's not about the money," she snapped.

"What then?"

Hiyori shot her head up and glared, making their height difference all but disappear from the fire in eyes. "Why the hell do you care?" her voice dripped with venom.

Shinji was taken aback by her hostility. Sure, she had always been a firecracker with a short fuse, but she had never really meant it. The fighting and name-calling was a game, but this was something entirely different. This time she genuinely furious with him. After what happened those years ago, he couldn't really blame her for being mad—it just wasn't something he expected for her to hold onto for so long. Without saying another word, he relaxed his grip on her wrist and she jerked it away, stepping away from him until her back was against the wall.

"Do me a favor, will ya?" Hiyori pointed her nose up high in the air when she spoke. "Just turn around and walk out of here. That's what you're best at."

He stood calmly, sliding his hands into his pockets. He looked deep into her amber eyes to find out what she was conflicted about—her voice said one thing but her eyes said another. She huffed, moving some of her bangs before she closed her eyes and shook her head. She spun on her heel and started to leave him alone in the dark hallway.

"I talked to Kisuke," Shinji piped up before she left out into the open. Hiyori froze in her tracks but didn't turn to face him. When she didn't move from her spot, he took slow steps towards her.

"He and Yoruichi are back at the shop in Karakura. Can you believe that stupid place held up through the war? Tessai must have put up one hell of a kidou barrier to keep it intact."

She still didn't move or speak, but also didn't shake him off when he placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'll be waiting for you when get off the clock," he said in her ear.

Hiyori tilted her head back, peering at him from the corners of her large almond eyes. "Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it," she scoffed.

His hand slipped off her shoulder as she left him alone in the corridor. Moments later, he walked out and found his booth occupied with a large group of couples. He surveyed the room and saw an empty seat at the dim end of the bar, going over to claim it. He sat, immediately ordering another glass of single-malt whisky. He tried to enjoy the drink, but it was difficult, seeing that Hiyori was back with the rowdy group of men, ignoring their advances even though a vein was ready to pop on her forehead. Shinji shook his head and moved his gaze to the golden-brown liquor swirling in the shallow glass.

This was going to be long night.

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PLEASE - READ AND REVIEW!!
Reviews give me warm fuzzies!

Author's Notes:

First, a HUGE thank you to JasoTheArtisan for the encouragement and beta read. Go read his stuff, NOW.

I hope you guys enjoy this one...I've been really exciting about working on it, especially dipping into the potential of Shinji and Hiyori's complicated relationship. This story is my idea of what *could* have happened in the times after the Vizards' exile, but before the current story line. Expect cameos by special characters from the current Bleach storyline, although it may not be in their current form (hint, hint).

(Bonus points go to those who caught who the lead Inagawa gang member is in the real Bleach story!)