EDIT 8/29/16

New Summary: How different would Bleach be if Shiro Kurosaki was the protagonist, and Ichigo his zanpakuto? With a violent and borderline bipolar substitute shinigami and a stubborn zanpakuto sporting hero complex unmatched- Soul Society is in for a shock.

Old Summary: Shiro Kurosaki is a person without a purpose. As a black belt martial artist who has long since surpassed his teachers and has yet to meet his match, he has grown bored and restless. It doesn't help that he is an albino, with violent and borderline bipolar tendencies. Consequently feared by everyone besides his family, an old friend and one other, many believe it's only a matter of time until he winds up dead or in jail. When a shocking encounter leads him to obtain the mythical power of the shinigami though, he just might avoid his wasteful fate and find his purpose once more.

Rated T: For language (mainly Shiro's mouth) and canon level violence.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach and never will.

"Listen, Shiro. You don't have a choice; you took the damn oath so you should know!" The twenty year old looks down at the disgusting punk who has the nerve to abandon the Red Hawks. The little freak should be grateful to be involved at all! Yet one day he just strolls into the their base and casually announces to everyone that he quits…? Quits! Like that is a possibility. No one quits. Those who try end up spending the rest of their lives comatose in the Kurakura Hospital, as Shiro very well knows- he helped put one of them there, after all.

Shiro snorts derisively at the man and nine others that gather around him. The Red Hawks aren't taking any chances- Shiro is well known as the gang's (former) best fighter, after all. He is strong, swift, smart, not to mention undeniably skilled with a black belt in mixed martial arts... and they are all hyper aware of those facts. "You're the ones who needs to listen. I've said it once, and I'll say it again since apparently you didn't get the memo the first time…" He drawls out, one pale hand casually slipped into the right pocket of his faded blue jeans. "I. Quit," he announces each syllable slowly and flawlessly. Before they can make a proper retort, the fifteen year old goes on. "Not to say it wasn't fun at first… But once the novelty of dodging police cars and mugging hapless convenient stores wore off, I realized just what a bunch of empty-headed, balless wimps the Red Hawks really are." His voice is matter-of-fact, though his words and the sly smirk on his lips show how smug and patronizing he truly is.

Rage wells up in the man standing across, but he swallows it. He'd much rather coarse the brat back than use actual force; no one is exactly eager for the latter just yet. Several threats later however, little headway is made. The albino remains obstinate, and bored apparently, if his listless, idle demeanor is anything to go by. "Alright, I've had enough. If words won't get through that thick skull of yours, a visual aid is needed." Everyone tenses when Shiro smoothly removes a sheathed dagger hidden in one of his boots. He laughs that creepy, high pitched cackle of his at their expressions. "Relax. I'm not gonna attack. Just making a point." They watch warily, dumbfounded, as he takes the blade out of the sheathe and sterilizes the edge with the fire of a lighter. Then he rolls up his sleeve, revealing the Red Hawk tattoo on his upper arm. With barely a wince, he slashes at it. Blood comes out in a steady stream. Shiro's smirk widens. "I hope you losers don't actually believe that this thing is permanent. The rest of you might be idiotic enough to help the police and get a permanent, identifying mark… but not me."

One Red Hawk yells out in protest. "I saw you get the tattoo myself! It is permanent!"

Shiro scoffs in amusement. "Yeah, you saw me get this tattoo with nonpermanent ink, congratulations. It wasn't too hard to convince the artist for a quick switch in ink." It then becomes crystal clear to the Red Hawks ring leader that nothing will convince the guy to come back into the fold quietly. It would be a shame to lose one of their best, but it just couldn't be avoided.

Good thing I know the freak's one weakness… He gaze trains on Shiro's black sunglasses that surrounds his eyes entirely. Knock those off and he's done for. The albino won't be able to see a thing in this bright sunlight; it's the reason why I choose to come after him in broad daylight. By this time the Red Hawks have surrounded their one time comrade in a loose circle. With only a small signal, the ringleader sends them charging at the lone figure in the middle.

But Shiro knows immediately what that signal means, and is instantly on the offensive, having always believed the best defense is a good offense. He is almost to the ring leader, both of their blades drawn, when a small throwing knife sores through the air toward Shiro's unprotected back. The slight whistling sound of it soaring through the air is the only warning Shiro needs. With ease, he dodges to the side and watches with satisfaction as the knife meant for him impales itself in the ringleader's chest. Shiro has always had a sort of sixth sense, both literally and figuratively. The seemingly impossible task of surprising the boy is one of the reasons why he is so feared.

The ringleader is down for the count, though luckily enough for him the knife seems just to have missed his heart. Shiro is free to take on the small fry. One of his favorite fighting methods, especially when he has more than one opponent, is to use their own force against them. To Shiro this is hilarious… Dodging so swiftly that opponents run into each other, redirecting the force of attacks so the enemy finds himself with a faceful of dirt… Shiro's job is made all the more easier by the fact that he knows exactly where they are aiming for, his sunglasses. With one tracked minds they go after the pair with absolutely no creativity. "Geez, I know these shades are entirely sexy on me, but do you really think they'd look even half as good on your ugly mugs? Just go buy your own pair."

"You smug baaaastaaaar-" A quick hit to the back of the head with the hilt of Shiro's dagger leaves the guy out cold. Sure, Shiro is a criminal more or less, but murder is first degree. He isn't willing to go that far. No one has pissed him off that much yet.

At this point Shiro has taken down nearly half of his assailants, leaving six more to go. Unfortunately however, they're all close enough for close quarter combat now and almost all have knives in hand. Shiro is good, unmatched one-on-one as far as he is aware, but he isn't god… and the Red Hawks have every intention to expand on their advantage. The first guy to lunge has his knife kicked out of his hand and sent into the guy next to him. Some idiot with a ridiculous rainbow colored mohawk manages to dart forward though and grab Shiro from underneath his arms, locking the albino in place and waiting for one of his buddies to beat Shiro senseless. Annoyed, Shiro swiftly slams his head back, crushing rainbow mohawk's prone big nose. The man howls, releasing his grip and staggering back.

Shiro is about to finish him off when he is beaten to the punch- literally. Out of seemingly nowhere a fist plants itself into rainbow mohawk's face. With a comically shocked, broken-teeth look, the raging thug falls to the ground without another sound, blood now pouring from both his nose and mouth. There above the unconscious body stands proud a petite, fifteen year-old girl, sporting a short, traditionally boy's hair cut. For a moment the rest of the Red Hawks back off, incredulous and stunned by this new appearance. The girl wears sneakers, rolled up sweatpants and a muscle shirt (her usual Saturday garb) while armed only with her fists… and she has the guts to challenge a group of guys, each twice her size?

"Tatsuki…" Shiro greets with a wry smirk, pearly whites glinting almost menacingly. "Nice left hook, but there's no reason for you to jump in. I've got these losers well in-hand..." The remaining gangsters bear their teeth at this, but are a bit more wary to just charge in now that he has backup, no matter how frail looking. If they are friends, they realize the girl has to know how to fight, and she did just take out one of their friends with one punch...

Tatsuki scoffs good-naturedly. "First you're all buddy-buddy with them, and now they're losers? No wonder I'm your only true friend, Shiro."

"Heh. I was never 'buddy-buddy' with them, and you damn well know it. I only hanged around because they were entertaining, but now my patience has run out. I have only so much of it for idiots. That's why you're my only friend." Shiro dodges a messy attack from one of their opponents meanwhile, those Red Hawks remaining naturally not willing to politely wait for them to finish.

Tatsuki raises a fist to her heart in mock gratitude. "Geez, thanks for the compliment… I'm not an idiot; the one thing every lady dreams of hearing."

Shiro's eyes widen behind his sunglasses, white brows shooting up. His smirk turns into a wide grin and he is suddenly clutching his sides, laughing without restraint. Tatsuki has had six years to get used to the sound, but it completely scares the crap out of the rest, whom stare on with looks akin to horror. The sound is almost demonic, and not at all gleeful in the normal sense of the word. Once Shiro has collected himself, he straightens back up with a teasing grin. "Well, if you really think of yourself as one…" He steps back, out of the way. Bowing lowly, he gestures one hand mockingly toward the remaining gangsters. "Ladies first…"

The pair of them together make short work of the Red Hawks. As two of the top martial artists in all of Japan, it isn't that surprising. "Most of these guys rely on brute strength and their pitiful, little knives… Idiots…" Tatsuki remarks with a roll of her eyes, tossing one said knife dismissively to the side. Only a shallow cut to one shoulder and a thin sheen of sweat hints that the teenager was fighting several older boys moments before.

Shiro makes a sound of agreement. "Strength doesn't mean a damn thing if your opponent is faster. Don't know why I joined up with them in the first place, 'sides the cash… Speaking of which…"

Tatsuki groans, setting a hand over her face. "C'mon Shiro; don't stoop so low."

"Che. You call this stooping low…?" he asks oh-so-innocently, pulling out a worn wallet from a downed Red Hawk and then the yen inside. He waves the money in the air, dropping the wallet. "I call it a pack of cigs," he purrs with a self-satisfied look.

Tatsuki rolls her eyes. "Whatever… I've had this conversation way too many times with you," she admits wearily, honestly saddened that her friend would resort to petty thievery for some extra cash.

"Got that right," he returns off-handedly, getting to work and shuffling through various wallets and some pocket change. Shiro doesn't understand what the big deal is. He always thought that this beats some cranky boss whining about his appearance by far. Some people never got off his back about his pure white hair, unable to process that this is what an albino is supposed to look like…

Nothing more to say for the time being, Tatsuki snatches up a cell phone from the currently snoring, rainbow mohawk guy. Shiro glances at her curiously. "Don't think the style suits you, Tatsuki," he comments with a quick snicker, regarding the rainbow colored flip phone in her hand with some amusement.

"Oh ha ha. I'm calling an ambulance," she explains in a clipped tone.

"What for?"

"What do you think? One of them has a knife in his chest," she points out dryly.

"Not my fault. I just dodged," Shiro replies offhandedly, unconcerned.

"I know that… Just the same, if he dies do you really want this to come back to haunt you? It could happen, in more ways than one." They share a meaningful look, Tatsuki's underlining message clear. She knows her best friend like the back of her hand, and he has long since told her the entire truth concerning his… sixth sense.

"... Do what you want."

"I will." She calls for the ambulance, giving them the location and number of injured, though no names. Tatsuki hangs up right after. "Well, they're on their way. Are you almost done?"

"Yeah… Here," he offers her a wad of catch. "Consider it spoils of war."

Tatsuki wrinkles her nose in disgust at the thought of taking the money. "This was a stupid brawl, Shiro, not even a proper fight. I'm not taking that."

"Don't be such hardass."

"What'd you call me?" She asks lowly, shooting him an unimpressed look.

"Nothing, my lady," he responds sarcastically, before regarding her with a brief moment of seriousness. "Just take the damn money. You earned it." Shiro abruptly reverts back to his default smirk. "'Sides… You know that if you don't take it, I'll only buy you something pretty with it instead. How do you feel about… black lingerie? I could give it to you in class and-"

Tatsuki holds up a fist, a tick mark practically appearing on her forehead. "You wouldn't dare," the tom boy declares threateningly.

He shrugs some. "You're right, you're right. Respect you too much for that. Doesn't mean I won't get something, though."

Tatsuki purses her lips tightly. "Fine," she determines reluctantly, snatching the money away and ignoring the smug look on her best friend's face, lest she try to punch it. "You're such a bad influence…" She mutters.

Shiro grins from ear to ear. "I know."

After promising Tatsuki that he'd be at practice in the dojo tomorrow, they both part ways and quickly leave the premises. And good riddance… Shiro thinks, not glancing back at Karakura river, or the bridge that stands over it. Shiro hates the place, and only went there so he could fight uninterrupted… That is, uninterrupted if Tatsuki was intimidated by the wildly popular rumor of the haunted riverside, like much of the Kurakura populace.

Truth be told, the riverside is haunted. It tends to attract spirits like honey does flies, for whatever reason. Having always possessed the ability to see and communicate with the dead, the albino naturally knows all too well… and honestly, communicating with spirits isn't all it's hyped up to be in his opinion. It became old years ago. Sometimes it is useful though, if the spirits are willing to make deals. For a while Shiro reveled in having supernatural spies, digging up dirt on pests (teachers, peers, anyone who got on his nerves), and all it usually took was a few simple tasks in return. Telling someone they left behind that their dearly departed still loves them, and will always miss them, or settling an old grudge that prevents them from passing on… The latter is especially fun, Shiro believes. The look horror on some person's face when a red-eyed, pale figure appears in their house, preaching doom and gloom while spouting their deepest, darkest secrets that no stranger could ever know. One time, after a particularly good and terrifying speech on Shiro's part, the recipient begged on his knees for Shiro not to take him to hell, convinced that Shiro was the grim reaper or some shit there to punish him for his sins. It took all of the teenager's self-control not to burst out laughing right then and there…

"Did I do well?" comes a quiet, tentative voice to one side of the sidewalk Shiro is on.

Speak of the devil… Shiro ponders silently with some mirth. He turns to regard a young girl, looking about ten or eleven. With brown hair in pigtails, she wears a pink and white striped dress. The severed chain connected to her chest and somewhat translucent appearance makes it blatantly apparent her status as a ghost."Yeah. You did perfect, my little minion," Shiro says, winking playfully at her. "Thanks to you, I was able to choose on my own terms where it went down."

The girl beams in delight, proud. "Wonderful," she declares, clapping excitedly and momentarily forgetting her usual polite, reservation when around the older. It doesn't last long, however.

Shiro's smile dims. "What's going on with you?" he asks, eyeing her critically.

"Well…" She scufs one of her red and white shoes against the pavement below. Of course, her shoe and foot passes through, but the meaning behind it is clear. She is nervous. Afraid.

"Tch… What's wrong, Saya? It's not like you to keep secrets from me." It's true. From the first time Shiro met the little spirit, he has come to know her as well as his own two sisters. Unlike the majority of spirits Shiro deals with, Saya has wanted nothing more than someone to talk to. Someone who can see her and actually hold a conversation. Apparently fellow spirits aren't good companions, concerned as they are with their own recent death and making right with the living before disappearing to Kami-knows where. Another thing that sets Saya a part. Unlike all the other spirits, Saya seems to have no interest in parting ways. Usually spirits disappeared after a few days, a week tops. Shiro has been meeting with Saya regularly for a little over a month now, playing games and conversing with the young girl in turn for the latest spiritual gossip and other tid bits she thinks would be helpful to Shiro. It's reached a point that Shiro has started to jokingly call her his 'little minion'.

"When I was watching those men like you wanted me to, I ran into another spirit…"

Shiro raises an eyebrow, somewhat impatient. It is nearly sunset and he is hungry. Yuzu is supposed to be cooking tonight, and on top of that he still wants to buy some things before he heads home. "And…?"

"He was not a normal spirit."

"That right?" Shiro questions off-handedly, running a hand through his short, white locks.

"He didn't have a chain. He wore a black uniform, and carried a sword." She begins trembling, and abruptly Shiro stops his idle motions, training his attention on her. In all the time he has known her, she has not once cried, even while speaking of her death. Now though, she seems close.

"Tell me everything." Saya agrees.

She explains softly to the best of her ability, hands clasped tightly in front of her all the while. She tells how the spirit had confronted her and explained that she needed to 'move on' or something bad would happen. When she adamantly refused, he took out his sword and it looked like to her that he wanted to hit her with it's hilt. She ran. He nearly caught her, but she managed to sneak away when for some reason he became heavily distracted... Although Saya admits that she has no idea by what.

"Wellll…." Shiro draws the word out, intrigued even by the ridiculous description of the spirit. Black clad, sword wielding, afro-possessing spirit? "This has definitely got to be the most interesting thing you've ever told me." He pauses. Shiro wants to know more, but knows sending his little minion to go search for clues would be folly. She'd probably be attacked again, if this ghost is a crazy as he sounds. Saya meanwhile nods mutely as Shiro studies her closely in thought. "Sorry to say, shrimp, but it's not safe any longer to hang around outside with your vase of flowers. You should go to your parent's place- it'll be harder for him or any like him to find you that way." What a pain. Now I'll have to find some other spirit to replace her.

"Okay…" she agrees quietly, understanding the logic behind the suggestion.

"Okay," Shiro concurs, entwining his hands behind his neck. "It's been good workin' with you, little minion. Stay safe." And with that he turns around and walks away.

….

….

...

...

Damn it.

Shiro whirls around, smile strained, irritated with himself. Saya has not moved from her last position. The ghost continues to float there motionless, hands clasped tightly in front of her and pig tails hanging limply. Like some freakin' puppy dog's ears drooping. Shiro thinks sardonically. "Alright, kiddo. What's wrong with you now?" He snaps a bit, looking at her expectantly.

She jolts a bit, appearing apologetic. "... I have nothing more to offer you in return if I can't gather information anymore, so there's no point in telling."

Shiro stares at her for a full thirty seconds while she shifts restlessly, uncomfortable under his gaze. She has a point… Shiro closes his eyes briefly behind his sunglasses. "It's not like I'll agree to anything. I only want to know." He opens his eyes again, smiling lopsidedly at her. "So tell me- and hurry up about it, will ya?"

"If you want me to," Saya agrees quickly. Realizing his dwindling patience, she cuts right to the point. "I don't know my way home from here. I only know how to get back to my vase."

Shiro frowns, put out. "Seriously?" he mutters, not exactly wanting a response, just venting his frustration. Unfortunately, Saya doesn't realize this.

"Yes. I'd never been to this side of Karakura when it happened. I've since come to know this area, but I still have no idea how to get home from here. Once I tried to follow my parents home when they visited my vase and replaced the flowers. It didn't work out, the car was so fast and I got so scared I would lose it in the hustle and then not even be able to find my vase or you again…"

Shiro raises a hand, putting a stop to her long-winded explanation. "I get the idea. What's your home's address?"

Saya's eyes widen. It sounds like he would help her! Just the same, she isn't about to get her hopes up, or question him. Then his question processes. "Address… Ah, ano… I think it starts… with a three?" Saya ponders, looking up and setting a finger against her chin.

Shiro sweatdrops. He turns on his heel and begins walking. When he gets three feet away, he orders with a carefree attitude, "Follow me."

"O...okay!" She floats after him cheerfully. "Where are we going?" Saya asks several minutes later, when her anticipation and curiosity meets an all time high.

"A store. Then my place. I've told you about my family, but just the same, fair warning. My old man is a loud idiot, though fortunately for you he won't be able to see or hear you. Karin can see you and everythin' like me, but she'll ignore you. Yuzu will be happy to have you around; you can hang out with her, only don't expect much. She can sense the presence of spirits, and sometimes can vaguely see shapes. That's it."

"That's fine. That's more than fine! Thank you so much, Oniisan!" Shiro freezes. Saya has darted forward to hug him, and he could actually, sorta feel the ghost's touch. It is… odd. Only Yuzu, one of his younger sisters around this girl's age, touches him like this. That aside, he isn't sure how he feels about the new nickname either. He already has two younger sisters around this kid's age- he really doesn't need another to look after.

The brunette looks up at him, tears of happiness in her eyes. She isn't even put off by the reality that Shiro is not embracing her back. One side of Shiro's lips twitches upward in teasing smile. "Don't go cryin' all over me now. I'm only doing this because out of all the spirits I've made deals with, you've been the most helpful. It's not permanent or anything, either. I don't want to run around Karakura for the rest of this evening looking for your folks' place, is all."

She sniffs, holding back her tears. "I won't- and I understand. Just the same, I am grateful, truly."

"Oniichan! You're home!"

"Hey, Yuzu… C'mere, will you? And Karin too."

"What's up, Shi-nii?" Karin asks curiously as she comes into the kitchen to join Yuzu who is already there.

"Got you two some stuff," he explains shortly, setting a bag on the kitchen table. It held all the things he bought with the Red Hawks' cash. Almost poetic justice, in Shiro's opinion.

"Really?! Ah, Oniichan, you're the best!"

"Calm down, Yuzu. It's nothing that special. Here." He hands Yuzu a lion stuffed animal. The idea occurred to him when he noticed an identical one on the side of the street. When he reached the store, he was lucky enough to find one brand new. "And you, Karin. Try not to pop this one too soon, 'kay? I'm generous, but not exactly made of money."

"Oh wow, Shi-nii…" Karin says with wonder, appreciation in her tone as she regards the well-made soccer ball. She doesn't question where he got the money, knowing Shiro will claim from various odd jobs around town. This isn't the first time he's brought home gifts out of the blue. The twelve year old continues to accept the explanation without a fuss. Karin is not naive like her sister. However, she came to the stark realization ages ago that ignorance is bliss.

Yuzu for her part squeals in delight and twirls around, holding the stuffed animal high in the air.

"I love it, I love it, I love it-" She goes on in this manner for quite awhile.

"One more thing," Shiro speaks up casually after they'd both admired their gifts.

"There's a ghost staying with us for awhile. I'm giving her my permission. Her name is Saya, and she's about both of your ages. Saya, you can come out." She does, smiling warmly at the twin Kurosaki girls. Karin regards the ghost for a moment, then merely shrugs in acceptance and goes back to admiring her new soccer ball. Yuzu on the other hand smiles brightly… at the empty spot next to Saya.

"It's so wonderful to meet you, Saya! I hope we can become good friends in the time you stay in the Kurosaki household." Yuzu bows cordially.

"I hope so too! Thank you!" Shiro conveys as much for Saya when Yuzu continues to smile sweetly at the spot next to the ghost girl.

"Shiiiiiiiroooooo-!" With hardly any effort but much irritation, Shiro dodges his father's flying kick. Shiro turns to smile malevolently down at his father, pulling off his sunglasses for added effect. His red pupils become immediately apparent, making Shiro downright frightening… At least, to most people.

"One of these days, old man…" Shiro purrs, tone laced with underlying threat. If I kill anyone in my lifetime, it'll probably be him… Shiro thinks before forcing himself to go through the mantra he always mentally repeats when the crazy geezer does something to piss Shiro off. I need him to pay the bills. I need him to pay the bills. I need him to pay the bills…

Unfortunately, distracted with keeping murderous impulses under control as he is, Shiro misses his chance to stop Isshin from digging into what else is in the shopping bag. "Shiiirooo, you naughty boy! You aren't old enough to smoke yet, and it's bad for your health!" He says while shaking a pack of cigarettes at his son.

"So then why do you do it, if it's so bad for your health…?" Karin asks dryly, glancing at her eccentric father.

"Karin, my loving daughter!" Isshin wails dramatically. "You know very well that I only do it once a year."

Without warning, Shiro swiftly knocks the pack out of Isshin's hand before kicking him brutally in the gut. Isshin goes flying into the wall behind him, denting the wall some. Isshin twitches sporadically. "So fast… My son has become so fast…." Right afterwards, his eyes brim with tears and he springs from his position against the wall, practically flying to the poster of Masaki Kurosaki. "But why doesn't he listen to his daddy anymore? Masaki, love! Why can't our son see that I am only looking after his health?" Isshin sobs pitifully. Shiro cruely shoves his sire's head against the floor with one foot.

"I've had an annoying day already, old man. You really would be smart not to tick me off anymore…" Shiro remarks lightly, as though commenting on the weather. He removes his foot and walks away, leaving Isshin sniffling next to the poster of his dead wife. Shiro is sure to snatch up the bag of cigarette packs as he goes. "Heading upstairs."

"But Oniichan! What about dinner?" Yuzu asks, distressed.

"Lost my appetite, although thanks for asking." Shiro hardly bothers with manners with anyone, although when it comes to Yuzu, he makes an exception.

"Finally…" Shiro mutters when he arrives at his bedroom. He closes the door behind him, though doesn't turn on the light. He hardly ever does unless he must for some reason. Usually the light from his window is enough, even when there is only moonlight like now; not to mention it's easier on his very sensitive eyes. Shiro grins as he slides his window open and lights a cigarette. Ever since he won the national championship in mixed martial arts, there remains few things he still enjoys. Smoking is one of them. It relaxes him- a near impossible task all other times.

He blows smoke out slowly, watching silently as it twists and floats out of sight. He sits on his bed, leaning his head halfway out the window as he smokes. No need for his room to smell like cigarette smoke, after all… Another huff. The sight of the rising smoke is almost haunting in this light… Shiro muses. He closes his harsh red eyes, leaning against the window sill. … What now? His time with the Red Hawks is over. He decimated the powerhouse of the gang in one fell swoop. Even if they do recover from it, he very much doubts they'll try coming after him again. They put on a tough act, but he's been on the inside. He knows now just how cowardly they can be.

Shiro doesn't want to go back to the mind-numbing boredom he knows so well. He's convinced that he can actually die from living such a miserable, pointless life- if he doesn't go insane first. At the same time, there is no way in hell I'll join another gang. It was interesting at first, but it soon turned out to be a disaster. Probably the worst mistake I've ever made… So what then? What is there to strive for? It's all… just so… Pointless.

A light ringing, like the tinkling of bells, or the rustling of gentle wind chimes. Strangely enough, it comes from a black butterfly that flutters in through a solid wall. The sound of it's flight reaches Shiro's foggy mind, drowsy as he is. His cigarette has long since burned out and fallen from his hand, which hangs halfway outside. He had fallen asleep against the windowsill.

"... Odd." The word does not come from Shiro's mouth. Instead, it comes from the mouth of a petite, short woman, no taller than five feet that has also passed through solid wall. She looks to be a teenager, but the way she carries herself is akin to a noble and proud warrior. She stands in Shiro's room, looking carefully around with dark, narrowed eyes. "That heavy reiatsu is definitely originating from here, yet there is nothing of note besides a sleeping human boy…" she continues, oblivious that her mutterings is rousing said human boy.

Once realizing there is an intruder in his room that is definitely not anyone he knows, nor an average spirit, Shiro relaxes his body and pretends to sleep. While doing so he watches the girl with barely open eyes, taking in her appearance from what he can see. Black garb… Sword… This has to be another of those strange spirits, like the one Saya told me about earlier. Heh. Shiro is content to watch the spirit, who continues to search the room, unaware of Shiro's attention, and he has to admit, this spirit is beautiful.

For the next few minutes, Shiro watches as the spirit flails around, making a mess of his room for no apparent reason. Gradually, his irritation mounts. … Screw this. He stands silently from his bed. "Oi. You have some explaining to do. Just what do you think you're doing here, huh?"

The girl whirls around, regarding Shiro with evident shock and disbelief. "Did you just… speak to me?" she breathes, mouth agape.

Shiro blinks, abruptly taking on an innocent persona. "Oh no, sweetheart. I'm talking to my imaginary friend standing right where you are..."

The girl relaxes. "Oh, good. For a moment there I thought the human noticed… me…" She freezes, stock still. She returns her gaze to Shiro, who at this point has arched an eyebrow in blatant amusement.

Stare….

Stare...

Stare…

Stare…

The raven haired woman yelps in an undignified manner and scrambles backward. "You were talking to me!" She accuses, pointing a shaking finger at Shiro.

He raises a hand to his chest in mock surprise. "Are you certain? I'm pretty sure I was speaking to the other person who decided to barge into my room late at night and shuffle through my things like she owns the place..." He smacks his right fist lightly into the palm of his opposite hand. "Darn." His voice oozes sarcasm, red eyes alight with a predatory gleam that the girl finds both unnerving and unnatural. She opens and closes her mouth, looking for all intents and purposes like a fish out of water. She has no idea what to do. Never once has it come to mind that a human would ever notice her, much less confront her.

As it turns out, she needn't say a word. At that moment a roar seems to shake the very foundations of the Kurosaki clinic. The floor trembles and vibrates. A childish scream radiates through the air. In an instant, the woman's whole demeanor changes. Once again she is the unshakable, noble warrior. "A hollow!" she hisses to herself, hopping out of the second story window. Shiro runs to the window, looking outside. Down below, he notices Saya and Karin.

"Karin! What's happening?" Yuzu must also be down there, as Shiro instantly recognizes her voice.

"Yuzu, run away! There's a- a monster and the ghost girl is in danger! Hey, move! Do you hear me? You need to move!" But Saya stays frozen in terror, staring in horror at the monster as tall as the Kurosaki clinic. Well, that's something I've never seen before! Shiro thinks, light-headed and adrenaline pumping through his system.

"A monster?! Wait, Karin!" Karin runs forward to urge the ghost girl away. Shit, Shiro thinks, and without a moment of hesitation proceeds to jump out of the window. He bends his knees, rolling to relieve pressure when he hits the ground, as he has learned. When he looks up it's to see a surprising sight. That little pipsqueak who invaded his bedroom is holding the gigantic monster at bay with a mere katana. The same moment Shiro stands straight, another monster appears on the opposite direction. This one is somewhat shorter than the first, but no less dangerous. It licks its lips (or mask?) eagerly.

"Heh heh… What luck! I won't go hungry tonight…"

So it can talk… Shiro remarks internally as he runs forward, driven by pure instinct. On the way he yanks out the "Kurosaki Clinic" wooden sign from the front yard and holds it as a makeshift weapon, although he doesn't suppose it'll be much help in the end. "Whatcha waiting for? Both of you, get out of here. Go with Yuzu and run far away from here." Despite the absurd danger of the situation, Shiro finds himself unafraid. In fact, he's grinning madly at the masked, monstrous beast towering above him.

"Shi-nii…" Karin whispers brokenly, but nonetheless obeys her big brother and urges Saya to move again. They barely make it a few steps before the beast lunges.

At the same time, the sword-wielding woman fighting the other beast yells out. "You fool! Get back!" Shiro doesn't heed the order. Instead, he pulls back his makeshift weapon and prepares to stick it in the open maw of the beast, intending to ward its teeth away. Right when the hollows is about to be upon Shiro, the woman behind finishes off the other monster and throws herself in front of the human. There is a splattering of blood. The woman's sacrifice has saved Shiro, and given the three young girls time enough to leave the immediate area. The katana begins to slip from a slim, dainty hand. Before it can fall, a larger, paler hand wraps around the hilt. Shiro picks up the sword and slashes at the mask of the monster still gripping his savior's body in its maw. The monster disintegrates with a death cry, blue particles floating away in the wind.

"A weakness…" Shiro says, smiling tightly and covered in the blood of his unlikely savior. A howl comes from somewhere up ahead, hidden by the nightly gloom. "Another, then? Bring it on." Shiro is convinced the mask is the monster's weakness and the katana in hand is special. As long as I have this weapon, I can win. If the pipsqueak fought off the other one by herself, I definitely can do the same… Although… That might be a bit of a challenge. Three more monsters have stepped out of the gloom, visible now some ways down the currently (and fortunately) deserted street.

"Human…" Shiro looks down, surprised.

"So you survived, huh? Not bad…. You're pretty tough." Shiro compliments easily, grinning down at the severely injured woman. She stares back up at him, at a loss. This human… She thinks. Picked up my zanpakuto and slew the hollow. He stands here, grinning of all things down at me and fear entirely absent…

"Human… Do you want to save the girls from earlier?" The woman knows all too well that if they die, no matter how fast the young girls run, the monsters will devour them soon after. "Do you desire to live?"

For a brief moment, Shiro considers the question, tilting his head slightly to one side in thought. Then he begins laughing- at least, the woman believes that is what he is doing. It is a sort of chilling cackle that sends shivers up her spine. With the added effect of her blood painted over his pale, white form, the moonlight bathing him in an eery glow… Not to mention the blatant, bright red eyes... It is a striking sight indeed. It makes her doubt what she is considering. "Lady…" He breaths. "I don't just want to live. I want to win." He leers down at her. "I assume you have a plan?"

She nods, pushing her doubts to the side. He risked his life for those girls, did he not? I must do this… "I do," she responds, somehow managing to imbue her voice with confidence and authority, despite the agony of her injuries. "Hand me my sword."

His smile dips, and Shiro snorts in disbelief. "Not a chance."

"You misunderstand. To win against so many, you need my power- the power of a shinigami…" Death god…? Shiro wonders incredulously, yet still relents and offers back her blade wordlessly. She carefully points it toward his heart. "To transfer my powers, this blade must pierce your heart so I may pour my power directly to your soul… I will admit, the likelihood of you dying in the process is high…"

"Sounds like suicide…" Shiro chirps, sounding awfully cheerful. He glances thoughtfully at the monsters, whom by this point have covered three quarters of the previous distance separating them. They are taking their sweet time- believing they have easy prey. Shiro's near maniacal grin intensifies. "Though, considering there isn't much of an alternative, I suppose I'll just have to trust you." He grips the blade, avoiding the sharp edges with his hands and steadying its slight trembling. He looks down at the being who holds the hilt. A spark of something enters Shiro's eyes. "My name's Shiro Kurosaki, by the way…"

The woman draws in a shaky breath. "And I am… Rukia Kuchiki." They meet eachother's gaze, determination reflected in their eyes. "Stay strong and wield my power nobly, Shiro Kurosaki," Rukia Kuchiki says before together, they drive the zanpakuto into Shiro's heart. For him, there is pain… and then a seemingly endless churning of power. The hollows roar in shock, shielding their eyes when a sudden burst of red, blazing power erupts from the human.

"I bet… You assholes are thinking right about now… Damn. Maybe I should have stayed at whatever hell-hole I call home tonight..." The smoke and debris the eruption kicked up clears, revealing Shiro in a black shihakusho and holding a gigantic blade over one shoulder. Rukia looks on in disbelief. I've never seen a sealed zanpakuto that size before, and my power… I only meant to give him a portion, yet somehow he's obtained it all…. Her shinigami garments have reverted to the pure white of a plus soul.

"And I have to say…" Shiro continues. He hefts his blade off his shoulders, his spiritual pressure rising and submersed in killing intent. With a sudden burst speed he appears in front of the closest hollow. Shunpo?! Rukia yelps internally, finding it harder and harder to breathe. Shiro stands at eye level across from hollow, looking at it with a predatory gleam. He finishes, "You're right- you really should've." The hollow swings a clawed hand, but before it can meet its mark the hollow's mask is cleaved in half. Laughing maniacally, the newly dubbed substitute soul reaper goes on a destructive rampage. Power courses through his being like never before, and Shiro can't remember ever being so happy or so alive, ironically enough. "You can't get away! So why don'tcha just give up and DIE?!" he screeches tauntingly, giving chase to the remaining hollow attempting to flee.

Rukia worries that the boy is drunk on power, yet the end results of her decision cannot be disregarded. The hollows were slain (or soon to be) and they've all evaded a fate far worse than death, thanks to him- Shiro Kurosaki.

Girl-of-Action- This little plot bunny attacked me while I was agonizing over writing the next chapter to Beyond Death, and just wouldn't leave me alone. How different would things be if Shiro was the human-turned-shinigami…? And Ichigo the zanpakuto? I doubt that this will be a serious fic, more like a series of one-shots with the theme previously mentioned. Old Man Zangetsu won't be making an appearance- sorry if anybody wanted to see him involved.

So… What do you guys think? I'm pinning Shiro initially as an anti-hero, a chaotic neutral if you know about the alignment system. As for the title "Paint", well… Bleach turns things to white. Maybe the original is called this is in reference to how Ichigo hollowfies and loses practically all sense of reason when fully hollowfied? In this story though, the pigmentless protagonist is already without purpose. He needs to discover one, and will be changed by the people he meets and powers he gains along the way… By now, hopefully you've obtained the gist of what I'm trying to impart. If not, rambling on any more won't help and I apologize for confusing you. x3

Anyways, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thanks for reading- Ja ne~ (Cya~)