Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Red Rosaries

"God punishes us mildly by ignoring our prayers and severely by answering them."

-Richard J. Needham

X

Chapter One

Byakuya's POV

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…

Solemnly, I kept my troubled head bowed with my brow firmly against my clasped, praying hands as I remained kneeling on the burgundy cushioned bar near the floor behind the mahogany pew in front of me – pressing inside my tightly closed palms were the tiny, scarlet beads that formed my precious and most favored rosary that I always made sure to have when coming to this place, my only sanctuary.

Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus…

My ash-colored eyes were kept closed as I continued to thoughtfully rest my head against my joined hands in silent prayer; my mind repeating those same, familiar words over and over so I may find some sort of internal peace at last – flashes still painfully vivid in my head of the day's previous events and their trying tolls that they recently seemed to have on me.

Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners…

I was currently inside the massive Saint John's Cathedral located near the Downtown District; a place I had been many, many times before; with its brilliantly constructed stained glass and white-stone sculptures that outlined the huge expanse of the quiet, barely occupied building as there were only a few other attendants in various spots also engaging in personal prayer and asking of forgiveness…same as I.

…now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

I slowly opened my naturally half-lidded eyes; their focus already on the large replica crucifix of Jesus Christ a little ways before me, beyond the magnificently illuminated and accentuated alter, as I took a deep, almost remorseful breath to clear my swimming, overworked mind – images and revelations still fresh within me that I simply could not escape as I mindfully rose up from my kneeling, humbling position.

My hands were quick but careful in their quest of straightening out my jet black Ermenegildo Zegna suit before I quickly signed the cross against my forehead, chest and two shoulders before I made to scoot out of my row and into the main, red carpeted aisle-way so I may exit the grand but welcoming Roman Catholic church.

As I stepped past pew after pew, row after row of candles that had been lit for either the dying or the departed, I brushed my equally black hair out of my eyes – my praying and reflection presumably done for the day as I now intended to move onto face the next day and accept the exact same circumstances which landed me here in the first place.

I had killed a man earlier today.

It had been my job, my unwavering duty, as the orders to do so had been passed directly onto me from my boss; someone much more powerful and commanding than I.

After the deed had been committed, like all the other times before, I had come to this place…to pray to God and seek out some sort of divine forgiveness that I knew I did not deserve.

As I came upon the large, double wooden doors that led outside into the sinful yet refreshing rest of the world, I could not help but sigh aloud as I once again immersed myself in the ignorant stench that is human-kind and knew…just knew without a shadow of a doubt that tomorrow would be no different than today.

I would still have to kill again…and I still would have to succumb to my pentence.

I…hated…my life; doing this.

There was no point and it had such heavy, horrible consequences on me.

My name is Kuchiki Byakuya and I am the best hit man in the White Night Kyoutou.

X

Two days later…

I hollowly walked down one of the many, city streets that passed by bar after bar, club afer club – all of them absolutely filthy and wholly unfit to still be operating and untouched by any kind of authority as they were.

The hour was dreadfully late as there were little to no passersby on the street, and I had just finished another mission of mine; leaving me with a bitter taste in my mouth as well as a certain foulness inside my soul that could not be dispensed without the help of my sanctuary…the very place I was currently heading to.

…until…

Bam!

My steps immediately came to a stop, my trained senses already making me look to my direct right towards a shadowed alley in between two brick buildings, whose view was semi-blocked behind a large, dark green dumpster.

Thwack…Bam!

There was no mistaking it – something or someone was receiving some hefty, well-placed blows by the sound of it and, my hands still in my charcoal-grey suit pockets, I only stood a second more before I heard the sporadic thuds of fists against flesh were followed by a plead…a human voice, haggard and choked by tears and strife begging his attackers to stop his punishment.

"Ugh…s-stop…this…pl-please…"the strained, quiet voice sobbed through broken syllables and tears; the sheer desperation in the small, pitiful voice prompting me to move my feet towards the sound at once though I was barely able to register that I was doing so right away.

Crossing the darkened, lonely downtown street, I passed that dark green, foul-smelling dumpster and saw up close as one figure was crumpled on the cold, dirty ground with two furious-looking men looming over him with their hands balled at the ready and their stances that of pure, ruthless intimidation.

I quickly surmised that the two attackers were just punks from the street, judging by their purposefully unkempt hair and shoddy attire of baggy jeans, chains and random, dark-colored T-shirts, and I kept my hands casually inside my pants pockets while I waited for their attention before speaking to them.

"Leave," I said simply, my low baritone all but reverberating through the tense air between us all as the small form still on the ground shook with adamant fear and trepedation at the situation –that same figure laying helpless and battered on his side with his back against one of the night-tinted brick buildings behind him.

"What?! You think you can just show up and order us around!" one of the idiotic attackers shouted into the dead of night before making a clumsy dash over to me to, no doubt, try to assault me as well.

I closed my eyes for the briefest of moments, a small, psuedo-sympathetic smirk playing across my lips in the process, before I used my right hand and quickly drew my masterfully crafted, silver Browning 9 x 19 millimeter Hi-Power from my left-breast leather gun holster and pointed it right at the unruly thug's hideous, charging face.

The man's steps practically skidded to a halt as he peered in utter shock at my glistening semi-automatic handgun that could take easily his head off at any second – my arm completely steady and unwavering as it remained extended to make sure that the muzzle of my powerful gun was almost touching his scrunched-up and sweating forehead.

"Why you…!" the second man shouted all of a sudden, making my steel-cold eyes only shift to him for a short assesment as I saw that he was taking a simlar, equally uneducated approach in attacking me by just rushing forward with his fists raised high.

With a smooth pivot of my front foot, still keeping my first gun trained unmovingly on the first man, I turned around and drew my second 9 millimeter of the same make and model from my opposite, matching right-breast holster and pointed it at the second man – my back to the man on the ground who had voiced his plea and had been the victim of their crimes.

The white, pressed material of my long-sleeved shirt underneath my contrasting dark-colored suit jacket starkly stood out amidst such an equally dark-natured night from the ends of my sleeves as I kept both of my arms stetched out wide on either side of me; each holding off one of the burly, uncivilized punks beyond its reach by the glint of my guns and I said nothing more…I knew I did not have to.

Only one more second passed before, as if on syncronized cue, both of the men, with their mouths wide open in terror as they were no longer showing any signs of their initial rage and anger at me, stormed passed me into the street and effectively disappeared into the consuming night the city always brings.

Seeing them run off in absolute fear for their lives as they did, I thoughtfully closed my eyes and smirked again as I lowered my head just the slightest of fractions, my arms slowly dropping in the process as I considered the situation for what it was – serious to them but practically laughable to me.

Just then, snapping me back to my senses, I whipped around in my spot immediately upon hearing the unknown man still on the cold ground try to sit up from his laying position; an evident struggle for him judging by the tiny, poorly muffled sounds of discomfort and pain that he made.

Expertly, I quickly placed the gun in my right hand back into the left-breast holster before doing the same with my other as I said evenly down to the small, shadow-shrouded man at my feet, "Are you injured?"

Heavy, deadly handguns back in their places against my chest, the thought struck me briefly that I could not believe that I actually asked this man that question; showing such concern, and…why had I intervened in the first place?

Mentally shrugging off my obscure, unanswerable observations before they grew, I patiently squatted down upon receiving no reply to my inquiry about his state of health – my hands cautiously coming out to take hold of his shoulders before I repeated my same question to him.

With us being so close now, I could make out despite the inescapable black of night that his medium-length hair was also black and appeared to be cut at all kinds of layers and angles around his lowered head – my close-range line of vision also noticing quickly that he was wearing a black long sleeve shirt underneath a seemingly dark grey T-shirt.

"Hey," I said to him to gain his attention, my hands finally coming into contact with his slumped, shamed shoulders and I was inwardly instantly surprised to find out how lithe and small his shoulders felt underneath my large palms, "are you okay?"

This time, the man on the ground that I currently had my hands on as a way for me to show him that I was not going to hurt him, suddenly raised his head and looked me squarely in my face.

I could feel my own eyes widen slightly as my gaze was suddenly met with the most brilliant shade of green that I had never seen in someone's eyes before – I could feel myself being wholly unable to look away for a solid moment as they just seemed to hold me in their depths and instantly know everything about me…all my secrets, all my problems; everything.

It was unnerving as it was astounding.

"Y-yes…I am alright," the man whispered to me, my senses barely even registering that he had finally spoken to me as I was too busy taking in the soft curves that formed his delicate jaw as well as the equally mesmerizing tone of his unusually pale flesh that just looked like it would feel like like liquid silk underneath my fingertips.

His expression was that of uncertainty and apprehension as the corners of his thin eyebrows were upturned and a small, fearful frown shaped his small, pale lips; the tiny, green lines that matched the beautiful color of his eyes that ran down the length his cheeks only adding to his genuinely distraught and saddened appearance as he continued to search my eyes and face.

I swallowed before speaking again.

"Good," I stated curtly but not rudely as I made to stand up, my hands still holding onto his slender shoulders to make sure that he would stand up as well before letting go.

Both of us now standing and still very close to one another, it did not even occur to me to possibly take a mindful step backwards to give the man some space as I only peered meticulously over his shorter, frailer form as he used his delicate-looking hands to brush off the sides of his figure-hugging shirt before he looked back up at me – my hands back in my pants pockets so I would not try to touch him any more while I remained stoic and still in front of him.

"I um…"he started in that airy and obviously rarely-used voice of his while he let his gaze fall from my face for only a short moment before snapping back up to my infinitely disciplined ash-colored orbs that could not help but watch as this stunning, lovely younger man got situated and proceeded to say something further to me, "…thank you for…for what you did."

His shyness was killing me softly as it was something I was certainly not used to observing, considering how mostly everyone I worked with was extremely full of themselves and cocky as their words of self-praise never seemed to stop.

"Why did all of that happen in the first place?" I asked before I could stop myself, my training and my general self-made principles telling me, screaming at me that I needed to stop talking to him and just removed myself from him and the situation in full.

I saw him visibly gulp while his eyes drifted away from my piercing, intrigued stare directed down at him as he said a little shakily, "I…I was just in that bar over there, but they…I don't know, they must have overheard me telling my friends that I was gay, because they suddenly dragged me here and started hitting me…"

His lovely eyes were permanently fixed on the ground a little off to his left while his brows looked positively confused and frustrated while he recounted such hurtful details to me; my eyes not softening nor hardening as I trailed my vision from his pained expression down the gentle slope of his jaw line to his little, rounded chin and across my view of his slender, pale neck while I listened to his words.

I needed to stop; I needed to get away – he was so much smaller and gentler than I was that too many dreadful premonitions and fears started flooding me all at once…about how I would eventually hurt him, how I should not have anyone anyway, and how I was just no good to begin with.

I was a killer.

Deciding to not say anything further, I slid my eyes shut, a frown gracing my much harder features as well before I did take that step away from him and then proceeded to turn around so I may take my leave from the alley and finally reach my destination of Saint John's Cathedral.

My need to pray and acknowledge my sins was scorching me more than ever at the moment.

"W-wait!" the man suddenly called at my back while, no doubt, reaching out for me,"I'm Ulquiorra…Ulquiorra Schiffer. What's…"

"Sorry," I cut him off with my back still to him as a crisp but not unsettling breeze gently passed by and swept through the quiet, sleeping city, "but I can't let you know anything about me…Ulquiorra."

I knew I had let him down; I could just sense it in the change of the air between us that that I had probably disappointed him; but, nonetheless, I knew that it was for his own good that he did not know my name.

And with that, I walked away from him; that scared, young man in the dreary, dark alley that only stood up to my shoulders with the eyes of an angel; my chest already having tightened up uncomfortably upon taking a first step.

X

Ulquiorra's POV

That man…that mysterious, beautiful man had positively shined with such brilliance that I had to shield my eyes since his light was far too radiant against the darkness that had previously surrounded me.

As he had stood before me, protecting me while I had been seeking out solitude with the cold, unforgiving earth below me while I had prayed for my injustice to cease, he had made me gasp aloud as I could not tear my eyes away from his long, fearless form that desired to drive away exactly that which had been causing me pain.

Arms outstretched on either side of him as he stood by me, I could not help but be in awe as he resembled, in both stature and deed, the heavenly One who had sacrificed himself for all of us long ago – I was...speechless to see something like that in my lifetime.

He had saved me.

That striking yet completely reserved man had come out of the darkness and had saved me, a person he did not even know or cared about.

Now, as I watched his retreating form, I felt my admiration for my unknown savior only grow and intensify inside of me with each graceful, parting step he took, each rippling flutter the folds of his impressive dark-grey suit jacket made as they tusseled with the evening breeze.

As I saw his strong, shadowed form gradually meld into the blurred, inky images of the city streets beyond, I took a deep breath of the crisp yet cleansing air; almost feeling as if I had just been given a second chance...somehow renewed.

Just then, something caught my eye – a commanding shade of a deep crimson that easily stuck out amidst such black, just beyond the alley where I still remained due to my slight shock…the path that my nameless savior had just taken when he had left.

From the distance by which I first spotted this color, it looked like a mere, scarlet paint smudge that had been carelessly swiped over a solid black background, but I, nonetheless, slowly approached the source of color with my hands clasped together and up by my chin defensively, nervously as I once again immersed myself back into the cruel, unforgiving world by myself.

There, occupying the smallest space on the street with nothing else around it, was a beautifully-made red rosary – the large circle that the meaningful beads formed was criss-crossed over itself a few times and the small, silver crucfix on the end glinted earnestly up at me despite there being no significant light from overhead.

I swallowed before I carefully crouched down over the small but lovely tool for religious prayer, gently picking up the light, smooth item in my hand before rubbing the pad of my thumb over the extremely detailed crucifix.

My heart quickened for a fraction of a minute once I did so, as I silently asked myself if this belonged to that man…?

Did he drop this by accident?

My soul was immediately humbled and warmed as I put the two images together; realizing that such an extraordinary man deserved to have such a beautiful rosary, and that him praying with this only served to make me admire him that much more.

I could not suppress the small smile that curved my lips as I squeezed the small item in my hand a little tighter before extending my palm completely so I may look at it once more.

The crucifix turned over on top of my fingers once I did so and my eyes instantly were drawn to the few, small words that were engraed on the back.

"Saint John's Cathedral…"I read aloud though quietly as I continued to study the small piece of silver shining against my pale palm and defying the bleakness of night, "…that's near here."

My head automatically turned towards the path that that man had taken once he had left me in the alley…the exact same way that that church was!

Suddenly feeling overly excited and like I had solved some sort of puzzle or received some kind of epic prize, I stood up to my full height and held the small rosary in both of my hands – my mind already reeling with thoughts of going to that church right this second despite the horrific late hour that it was…all my thoughts totally fixated with seeing that man again, now that I had something of his to return to him.

Regaining some of my temporarily forfeited senses again, now that my adrenaline had completely worn off, I realized that I had better not – my mood already coming back down to realistic terms as I realized that a lot had happened tonight, and that I really did need to go home, check the extent of my injuries, and rest.

Tomorrow is another day, and if he does not come to that church tomorrow, there is always the day after that.

I will find him again…I had to; I would not settle for anything less.

He had saved me…me, and for no reason at all; he had stood his ground, fended off those whom I could not, and had just saved me without hesitation.

God knows what might have happened had he not shown up…the thought alone making my sides ache dully while my stomach felt a little queasy.

Refusing to let the tears that were threatening to run down my cheeks and over my cyan lines, I resolved then and there that I would see his face, as handsome and powerful as it was, and cool, somber eyes again…no matter what.

How could I let someone so just and good merely slip through my fingers and out of my life?

Author's Note: Okay – so I named the mafia 'White Night' because that is what Byakuya's name translates into...more or less. Simple, yes? Anywho, ha – Ulquiorra called Byakuya 'just and good' in the end…but he doesn't know that Bya kills people for a living! XD Thanks everyone and I hope you are all enjoying so far, yes?