Alright! Well, I haven't updated in a while, have I? Because of that, I decided that it would be time for a new story! So tell me what you think.

Story Name: Made to be Broken

Chapter Name: Darkness

Author: Sethrine

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to Bleach or its affiliates. I do, however, own this idea as well as the OC.

Enjoy!

If it wasn't for the fact that he knew what the darkness was like, then he would have never noticed the dark ridden form that was hiding from view within a shadowed alleyway. He moved closer, feeling the small surge of fear and fatigue spike from the pale, overly slender form huddled in a dank corner. Despite this, he continued forward, carefully walking so as not to scare the young woman any more than he already had.

Deep ocean blue eyes stared at him blankly, the mystifying depths of those very irises void of unrelenting light that should have been there from the start. Fiery red locks of hair clung to a delicate tear-stained face, and pale, bruise covered arms and legs poked out from a dark blanket that had surely seen better days, visibly shaking with indescribable yet unnecessary fear.

What was it about him that struck such fear in her?

Was it, perhaps, because he looked intimidating compared to the others that had passed by her prone form hours before he found her? Maybe it was because he carried his sword in such a way that she found it hopeless to escape, even with the night sky at her side?

He never was best at thinking things through, nor was he able to see every sign of the shadow-consumed being that would have given him his answers, though what he could notice did give him some insight on why the young woman was in such a state as she was. And to think, he never was one to catch on to subtle hints...

Pale pink lips, slightly chapped from whatever cause, parted slightly as she began to feel a sense of panic and understanding wash over her trembling form. Silent breaths became erratic and almost wheezing He seemed to force himself to stop in his advances in order to hear the softly spoken words.

"Y-you're going to kill me, aren't you?"

Her voice was light, shaky, though it easily carried on the wind. There was also a darker undertone to it that didn't belong, and it made the question that had been spoken just as somber and foreboding as the worn look on the dirtied pale face. The male before her had momentarily forgotten to speak or give any indication that he had heard a word of what was said to him. She continued on, however, the light voice continuing to shake and rise and fall with her fluctuating and confused emotions.

"P-please, just...just kill me quickly. I don't want to suffer anymore; please don't play around with me. If…if you are true by your sword, then let me die with what innocence I have left!"

His eyes, which appeared a deep chocolate brown from where the young woman sat, widened at her words, a genuine look of surprise crossing his features. "I'm not going to kill you, I...I want to help you."

Those magnificent ocean blue eyes that had glued themselves to the young man before her the whole time suddenly widened in disbelief. She looked up hesitantly at his sword that he still carried, the large, heavy looking blade tipping over his opposite shoulder in such a way that he seemed more relaxed that ready to fight. Even at such a time as this, she could not help but wonder if the dangerous looking object was as heavy to lift as it seemed.

He noticed those dark eyes wander to the weapon in his hand and instantly replaced it on his back, afraid that he was scaring her yet again. He was so worried with not upsetting the fragile being that the thought of her not supposed to be able to see him in his spirit form, let alone communicate with him in any way, never crossed his mind.

To him, it did not matter if the others around him were living or part of the dead. If they needed his help, he would gladly give it to them.

Cautiously, he moved even closer to the fiery haired young woman, reaching out a tanned hand for her to take as she followed the path of the darker colored limb with her eyes closely. Pale fingers twitched at wanting to move, wanting to believe that what he said just moments ago was actually true. He saw this momentary hesitation on her part and gave the slightest of smiles, his features softening slightly to put her mind more at ease with his presence.

It was progress, no matter how small. He was sure that with a bit more persuasion, he would be able to convince her to come with him. It was the one and only option he could think of to help the broken female before him.

"My Dad owns a clinic; it's not too far from here. He'll be able to take care of your wounds and mend you up." He could still see hesitance playing up her dirtied features as well as the reluctance she had for his words, so he continued to urge her in the best way he could, knowing that she would be in safer hands.

"Come on, I'll make sure you're taken care of. You'll be with friends; no one's gonna hurt you."

It was then that her hand reached out shakily and took hold of his own, her skin soft to the touch despite the dirt and grime staining her limbs and nearly as cold as ice. It even looked as if her hand was made of ice compared to the darker complexion of the male helping her stand on wobbly legs.

She had taken an uneasy step forward, and just like that, she was falling back to the ground. He caught her quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist in order to help her keep her balance.

"Don't worry, I've got you."

Fearful blue eyes glanced up into warm brown ones, and for that one moment, she wanted to believe that she could trust this man with her life, that he would make sure she was safe despite the odds.

Shakily, she reached up with one hand and placed it against his shoulder, slender fingers digging into the fabric of his clothing as dark eyes closed painfully. She then rested her head carefully against his other shoulder, and with a soft, painful, almost barely uttered cry, she fell unconscious against him.

He caught her easily and was able to maneuver her in such a way that he would be able to carry her without hassle and without damaging any of her wounds, visible or hidden, further. She was so light, he noticed; it was as if she hadn't eaten anything in a while. Who the hell would do something like this to such a fragile person?

For once, Ichigo was thankful for the darkness that covered him as he moved quickly through the town of Karakura.

So, what did you think? There's always room for improvement on my part, so any ideas/thoughts/opinions are greatly appreciated.