It was a cold winter night. Twelve year old Shiro was preparing to go onstage when the tent sides ripped open. Grimm flooded the carnival tent, killing anyone and everyone they could. Shiro was spared because of her semblance; she picked someone in Vale, formed a temporary connection with them, and teleported.


"Shiro, we've got a job."

"Sweet!"

It was a normal day for Beacon graduates Shiro Yuuki and Kuroko Tsukiyomi. They had started up their own firm for protective services at the age of 21, right after graduating the school. They hadn't wanted to go into the field, rather use their abilities to protect others. Now, two years later, their firm Black and White was known as the best for their protective services. So, when Mr. Schnee had called them to ask them to keep an eye on his youngest daughter, Weiss while she attended Beacon, they immediately accepted. Shiro slammed her closed fists together, forming a connection with the heiress who shared the same white hair as Shiro. It was all a show; she didn't need to do that to form the connection, over the years, she had developed her semblance to the point all it took was a mere thought. Three deep purple stars lined up underneath each light purple eye. A confident smile broke out on the woman's face. Her partner, Kuroko, simply rolled her golden eyes. The complete opposite of Shiro, Kuroko's black hair was tied up into pigtails, spiraling down either side of her head.

"Done? Got a hold on her?" Kuroko knew the answer, but she had to ask.

"Yep. She's pretty angry right now."

"You didn't get caught, did you?" Kuroko's voice was exasperated. Being caught was going to make protecting her a little harder.

"Nah. She was angry before I made the connection. Someone probably ran into her or got a speck of dirt on her nice, pristine clothes." Shiro didn't sound angry. She was simply making a joke. Kuroko knew as much. "What do we gotta do?"

"We make sure she isn't assassinated in her sleep."

"Sounds like we're becoming nocturnal, then. Better catch some z's now." That confident grin crept its way back onto the white haired girl's face, earning another exasperated roll of amber eyes. However, both fell back asleep.


After the young, white haired girl teleported her way to freedom, she learned that there was no survivors. Huntsmen and Huntresses didn't make it to the remote location on time. The papers were calling it a massacre. There were no survivors to tell the Huntsmen about poor, defenseless Shiro. She was on her own. Days passed, most of which was spent scavenging for food in dumpsters behind restaurants. Nights were spent huddled up in alleyways trying to keep warm. By the end of the first week, all that was keeping her alive was her aura, and that was depleting fast. Her stomach felt like it was eating itself. Her limbs felt stiff. Her once white hair was now brown with dirt and grime. She was sluggish, on the brink of death. However, salvation came in the form of a black haired twelve year old dressed in white. She introduced herself, then helped the starved Shiro into a waiting car. That girl was Kuroko, and she nursed the acrobat back to health, giving her a warm place to stay and wash up, and providing food for the starving girl.


The bleating of an alarm woke the pair up. Well, it woke Kuroko up. Shiro required a bit of coaxing in the form of cold water being dumped on her face. She spluttered, then wiped her face dry. Both got ready for their day, Shiro sporting a black top. It was solid up until just below her chest, then turned gauzy, except for a large black star at the hem. Black shorts, black shoes, and black bikers gloves completed the ensemble. Kuroko wore the exact opposite color, choosing a white strapless dress, white half gloves, and white flats as her attire. A white chain belt stretched across her hips, dangling crooked.

Silence stretched, only broken when Shiro spoke up. "I had that dream again."

"The one about your past?"

"No, the one about my future," sarcasm dripped from her words, "You'd think that after all these years, my past would quit haunting me, torturing me with all the faces I couldn't save."

"Something like that leaves quite the impression on the soul."

"Still. It's been, what, ten years since you found me half dead in the alley?"

"Eleven. The soul does not forget as quickly as we sometimes hope." Only Kuroko knew that Shiro had indeed died that day, but Kuroko had sacrificed a large part of her aura to bring her back, forming a near unbreakable bond. It had developed to the point where she knew what Shiro was thinking, and experienced the same dreams as her. They could even tell what the other was thinking on occasion. That was part of what made their partnership work, despite being on separate teams while at Beacon.

"Here we go with the philosophical crud. What are your plans for the evening?"

"Working out. I haven't done that yet this week."

"It's Monday. Sundays are your recovery days. Of course you haven't worked out this week. I plan on hitting up a bar or two. I'll let you know if anything comes up." Shiro smirked and waltzed out the door. Kuroko went to the room specifically for training and started warming her muscles up by stretching, recalling her exercises from her gymnast days. That evening was quiet, the only notable thing was Shiro stumbling home at five in the morning, drunk, then passing out on the floor, only to be moved to her bed by Kuroko.


Author's note:

I'm baaaack~

This is going to be one of the stories I dislike, funnily enough. It focuses on a couple of OC's of mine, since they would not leave me alone. I have no real direction for this, so don't expect a regular update schedule. Later on, I might integrate a couple of your OC's. I'll let you know a chapter or two beforehand, and will definitely give you a shoutout for it.