Well...Im trying to get back in the swing of things, so this is a story thats been sitting around that I cleaned up for you all. Hopefully the gets me off the hook for how horribly I updated Apocalyptic? I PROMISE that will be updated soon, I just need to watch some zombie stuff and I will be inspired.

This story is slightly inspired by X-Men, but more leans towards my own spin on it. You'll see some influences from it, but Im trying to make this my own story as much as possible. Ichigo wasnt even the original character for the Burning Boy but I wanted to post it on here so I tweaked a few things.

I hope you all enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Prologue- The Burning Boy

He sat, crunching on the stolen Halloween candy from his sister's room and staring at the TV screen in front of him. The speakers were on low so he sat as close as possible to the screen to hear it.

"Fuck off with your sofa units and strine green stripe patterns, I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let... lets evolve, let the chips fall where they may" Tyler Durden gushed from the screen as Fight Club played. The eight year old boy's eyes widened as a guy was punched in the face, blood flying across the screen. He yelped, but slammed his hand over his mouth in time for anything loud to escape his lips.

He glanced up towards the stair case, where his family slept soundly. His mother would kill him if she found out he was still up, let alone watching TV. That he was watching an R rated movie wouldn't help his case anymore either.

Suddenly the screen flickered and shut off, causing the room to be bathed in darkness. A single light came from the kitchen to his left, a soft glow of illumination.

An eight year old boy, with bright hair the color of an orange, stood from his criss-crossed position and stared at the single tea light that now rested on the kitchen counter. He walked towards it slowly, bare feet stepping lightly on the plush cream carpet below. The boy had seen fire before, but at this moment he was transfixed. It was like the world had frozen around him and narrowed onto that glowing candle, with the single flickering light of warmth illuminating the tabletop in a faint yellowish light. He stared at it, how the wind made it sway and how the smoke drifted up in soft, silky tendrils. His young, chocolate brown eyes reflected the small light, wide open in amazement and wonder. Nothing this spectacular had ever come into his life and as he stared at it, something grew inside of him.

He reached his hand forward, the compulsion to touch the flame burning in him so hard that it was almost like the fire was whispering to him, calling him into its warm embrace. He leaned forward on the linoleum countertop of his family's kitchen, hovered a single finger over the warmth and then dipped it down to pass through the fire.

His finger crossed through the flame and like dripping water from a faucet, the fire clung to him as he pulled away. The tendrils of flame grew on his hand, not burning but simply heating him with an oddly familiar and comforting feeling. But still he let out a shriek and waved his hand as the fire moved up from his finger to cover his arm. The eight year old swung his limbs frantically, screaming as the fire moved up to his shoulder. He fell to the floor, smacking the ground with a crackle of flames and another shriek of surprise. The fire spread over his chest and as he lay trying not to hyperventilate. Where the fire now touched the floor erupted in flames, eating away at the carpet hungrily. He was unaware of this though, his sole focus in trying to wipe the flames from himself. This only caused them to grow more and soon his whole upper half was completely aflame.

Around him, the living room was slowly filling with smoke as the fire grew across the floor to the furniture. The smoke didn't affect him though, nor did the heat. It was like the fire that now almost completely covered him was protecting him and although he was terrified, he was also comfortable. But he still screamed at the flames, trying in vain to scrap it away from his young skin. When the fire finally reached his head, his voice turned into the crackling of fire and his eyes into brightly burning sockets akin to the sun.

Shrieks from upstairs sounded now that the smoke had worked its way up the staircase. The whole downstairs was aflame, both the kitchen and living room. He heard his mother and father trying to escape their bedroom, but the smoke was more than likely filling the hallway upstairs as well. His younger sisters were screaming as well, beating on their door frantically. The boy's screams died down as he finally understood what was happening; he had caused this, his family was trapped, they needed help.

The boy jumped to his burning feet, his flaming hair flickering like the top of the candle had, and ran through the blazing room to the stair case. He climbed the stairs as fast as he could, only to reach the top just as the roof came crashing down in front of him. He screamed and crouched away from the debris that now blocked his path to his family.

"MOMMY" A crackly scream tore from his chest, his sun bright eyes widening even farther. The screams beyond the debris started to falter, become wore of a strangled cough than anything else. He could hear his dog barking frantically from his bedroom, his sister's tiny fists pounding on their door. The house groaned and then something snapped above him. A beam crashed down along the hallway, but before it reached him he jumped backwards. The boy flew down the stairs, his body flailing as he tried to get grab onto anything.

Instead of smashing into the ground as he would, he landed on something soft and warm. The fire below him had reached up to soften his blow and instead of hitting the burning floor he had become one with the flames for a moment. He retched himself free, the body of a boy once again forming out of the burning mass. He looked back upstairs and saw that the whole roof had caved in and was continuing to fall apart around him.

"They're gone" A fractured whisper escaped him. His chest squeezed in pain and suddenly a hollow scream burst out of him. The sea of flame around him rose up to match his roar of pain, devouring more of the house.

Just then, sirens sounded from outside, coming closer to the burning house.

His screamed continued until it turned into a chocking cry and suddenly he was being pulled towards to back door. The flames around him were moving his body for him, creating a path to his escape.

It was his fault, his fault this had happened. His life was gone, his family was gone.

The burning boy escaped out the back, leaving a smoldering trail of ash and flame in his path as he ran into the night.

Ten Years Later

Ichigo clutched the glass in front of him, his black hoodie pulled low over his head to hide his way-too-bright hair. He kept his eyes low, knowing the odd glow they sometimes had if people looked at him to long. Around him, the bar was loud, screams of joy and laughter bursting through the static noise of drunk voices. The bartender stood behind the bar to his left, cleaning off glasses and looking like he had had a few drinks as well.
Ichigos rum and coke was low and he needed a refill, but a quick check to his pocket showed that he was, once again, broke. He sighed, a sound he was becoming quite used to. Being in a dingy bar like this was hard enough but being sober as well? Hell no.

He stood, towering over the giggling woman to his left at his height of 5'11. He kept his shoulder slouched and his hands in his pockets, trying to draw the least amount of attention to himself. It was obvious that the two girls had been working up the nerve to talk to him, but he was having none of that. He could feel their eyes watching him longingly as he stalked as fast as he could out of the bar.
He passed by a table of very large, very drunk men with various forms of facial hair. Right as he was passing a man with very badly manicured muttonchops, the man scooted back and blocked his escape.

"Hey buddy" The large man slurred, his glazed eyes meeting Ichigos, "I got a question fer ya"
Ichigo flickered his eyes across the table, trying his best not to make eye contact. The man stood up when he didn't answer right away, his size blocking Ichigo's escape even more.

"I said, I gotta question fer ya bud" His tone showed he was more than drunk and by the looks of it an angry drunk.

Ichigo gulped and glanced up at him, "Y-yeah?"

"Why's it that a kid like you gets the women all over em but ya don't even spar them a second glance, yet were open fer business and they never come knockin'? I saw ya deny those pretty girls over there, and I have to say, yer a real ass. Ya think your better then all of us?"

For the love of god of course this would happen to him. Not to mention the girls hadn't said one word to him. Christ…
Ichigo held back to string of foul language he wanted to shoot off at this guy and simply took a step back, "I just have work in the morning and I really need to get going so if-"

"I think ya have an att-attitude problem bud" Mottonchop man said, poking Ichigo in the chest for emphasis, "And what's with the hood, take it off!"
Ichigo felt his hood being ripped off from behind him and whirled to see another one of the drunk men standing behind him, this one equipped with a pubby looking goatee.

"Look at that hair! Man I haven't seen something like that before!" The other man said, his grin growing wide, "Kinda pretty for a man aren't ya?"
Ichigo's eyes widened as they closed in around him, blocking him from either side. He breathed deeply, trying to remain in control. He could feel the warmth inside him, his eyes glowed a bit brighter. He squeezed them closed, shutting himself inside to remain calm. Please don't hurt anyone please don't hurt anyone please don't hurt any-

"Leave him alone will ya?"

Ichigo opened his eyes to see a man with wavy shoulder length brown hair and a cowboy hat standing on the other side of the drunk men's table. He was handsome, with a tired look in his grey eyes. He was in full cowboy get-up, down to the boots with spurs. If it weren't for the situation Ichigo might think it was a little funny.

"Why in the world would we listen ta you Brokeback?" One of the men said and Ichigo had a hard time holding back his eye roll. The whole table let out loud ridiculous laughter, but Ichigo couldn't stop thinking that this guy had just said his bright orange hair was beautiful…

The cowboy let out a tired sigh and pulled out a gleaming silver revolver, pointing it at the men with a hard gleam in his eyes, "Please don't make me do something stupid"

Goatee man seemed to understand and slowly back up, but Mutton-chops wasn't getting it.
"Yer not gonna use that, probably doesn't have any bullets in it. Come on, shoot me, I dare yeah"

It took about two seconds for Ichigo to realize what was about to happen. He couldn't react or do anything to stop it, and he only had enough time to work out his escape before the cowboy pulled the trigger.
The bullet whizzed between Ichigo and Mutton-chops, hitting the wall being them with astounding precision. But that wasn't what Ichigo was worried about; it was the sparks that erupted from the old gun. Fire.

Fire always found its way to him, like mosquitoes to a light. If he was in any room it always leaned towards him, but free falling fire always made it to him. So instead of falling to the ground like sparks should, they flew across the table and erupted against the exposed skin on Ichigo's face. It never hurt, only covered him in a warm feeling. Like being submerged into warm bath water. Even though the sparks had only been flecks when they had hit them, it only took five seconds for them to eat away the rest of his flesh and expose the molten core underneath. He lit up like the sun, his whole body burning and causing the room to go into an uproar.

Luckily he was prepared, having been in these kind of situations weekly for the past ten years. Ichigo jumped on the table, leaving burning foot prints where ever he touched. He leapt over the men sitting, avoiding their heads my inches. Ichigo sprinted towards the door, the flames trailing behind him as he ran. Luckily the door handle was metal, so throwing the door open had no risk of burning the place down. He just hoped people were smart enough to put out his footprints before they ate away too much of that old wood the bar was made out of.
It was snowing outside, coming close to blizzard status. His flames burned brightly still, but instead of smoke steam was sizzling off him. He wouldn't last long like this and he was in such a rush that he had forgotten his bag. There was nothing important in it, everything he cared for left him ten years ago. But he needed a change of clothes and the weather would kill him before he made it to the next town.

At the end of the parking lot was a black pickup truck with a horse trailer attached. The truck bed was empty except for a few tarps which Ichigo grabbed as he ran by. He threw them over himself, suffocating the flames almost instantly. The warmth that he loved so much faded, leaving him feeling empty, freezing, and depressed. The tarp was cold against his naked body, causing him to begin shivering as the freezing temperatures set in.
Crouched behind the truck, he watched as the bar emptied out and the fire trucks appeared. People started leaving very quickly, although none came close to the truck. Ichigo glanced at the truck bed, knowing it would be warmer then the ankle deep snow he was currently freezing to death in. He stood and climbed in, laying low and covering himself with another tarp. He felt somewhat better and only wished he could re-light and feel that comforting warmth again. But all fire did to others was destroy, so he kept it at bay. His shivers were starting to feel like a seizure, but he knew as long as his body was still able to shiver he was not going to die.

Twenty minutes later he was unable to feel his legs and arms and was slowly beginning to black out. He forced himself to stay awake, knowing he would need to climb out of the truck soon enough. But he couldn't move his muscles, couldn't feel them, couldn't…he was okay with this, he should die, he deserved it…
His mind faded then, leaving only darkness behind.

He woke up to surprising warmth and the low drawl of a country song. His legs and arms were cramped, but otherwise he could feel them and they seemed intact. He opened his eyes slowly and was met with the sight of a truck cab. He sat up instantly, the large blankets surrounding him falling low to reveal his bare chest.

"Your up, good. Feelin' any better?" A voice said from next to him, startling him.

He whirled to face the man, his eyes widening at the sight of the cowboy that had saved him. He stared for a good ten seconds before the man chuckled.

"No need to thank me or anything"

"T-thank you" Ichigo mumbled, his voice rough as always after he Burned.

The cab grew silent for a moment, the only sounds coming from the windshield wipers as they cleaned away the heavy snowfall. Ichigo was uncomfortable, a million questions to ask. Well that was a lie, he really only had one…

"Why?"

The man didn't reply right away, his light grey eyes remaining focused on the road.
"Why not?"

For some reason the man's reply angered Ichigo, his signature frown forming across his brow, "Seriously, why would you save me? After what I did…after what you saw I could do"

The man turned his attention from the road to give Ichigo a leveled stare that held so much wisdom he instantly wondered how old this man was. He looked no older then 30, but his eyes were so deep…"What you did wasn't yer fault. Seems like you just have an unfortunate curse that you have to live with. No reason I shouldn't help you. You did your best to not hurt anyone"

"But could still hurt you"

The cowboy let out a low chuckle, "Fire wouldn't hurt me, don't worry about it" That single line left Ichigo confused, but the cowboys tone signaled finality so he didn't push it.

"What's your name?" Ichigo asked, quelling his questions to the most simple of them.

"Coyote Stark, what's yours kid?"

Ichigo" It had been a long time since he had shared his real name with anyone, so he held back on the last name. Just in case this man somehow was around for all the newspaper headlines about the Korusakis.

"Well, now that were acquainted, you want to know where were going?"

Ichigo frowned at him, the thought having not even passed through his mind. He looked out the window and was met with only snow and trees, so he had no clue of their location.

"Where?"

Stark glanced at him, a small smirk forming on his face, "Let's just say you aren't the only person with problems in this world"

Before anyone starts complaining about Ichigo's OCness, ya gotta remember that he lost everything. And it was his fault. If this were to happen to real Ichigo I dont even think he would function anymore.
Also, Im writing this off the fly so I have no clue where I am going with this. I do know I want Grimmjow in here, cause I love him so much, but Shiro is going to deffiently he in here as well. No clue which I will swing for when the time comes.
Anyways, REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! It honestly makes me want to do stuff way more and stops me from forgetting, which will happen without reminders :)