Disclaimer:

I do not own Bleach. This shouldn't come as a shock to anyone who finds this story.

This story is an AU with a high likelihood of OOC behavior. I started this years ago as an original concept for submission as a short story through a publisher that a friend of mine runs. I have recently re-tooled this to be a Bleach FF, so please bear with me. This is my very first entry, ever, anywhere.

Italics denote internal speech.


Prologue pt. 1: The Exam

The simple room used for interrogations was dimly lit, throwing shadows everywhere. There was a somewhat musty odor in the air and the only noise in the room came from the scraping chairs. Two men sat across from one another, eying each other with thinly veiled contempt, an uncomfortable silence hanging between them. The younger of the two looked to be in his early twenties, well-built but not overly muscular. His ruddy orange hair giving off a party-boy look that didn't match with his demeanor. The other was a much older man, grizzled and a bit gaunt. Age had not been kind to him, but in his line of work it was to be expected. His greying, wispy hair was cut short to keep it out of the way. It was the eyes that gave it away. This man had lived through much and earned his place in the world, even if that place was to scour the dregs for fresh blood.

"What is a Target?" The voice was gruff and sounded bored; after all he'd been through this part of the examination countless times. He'd let them sit for a while, get their nerves on edge. Try to rile them up with anxiety and then ask the first question completely without warning.

"A Target is one who has committed several egregious crimes against people who have caused no harm; either direct or indirect" a standard reply from the younger man. He sounded nonchalant, but if the look in his amber eyes was anything to go by, he was tense.

"Correct. A textbook response, try to be a little more original with the remaining answers." How many times do I have to keep listening to the same garbage? It's almost as if they're taking a test, no thought, just mindlessly regurgitating their training. If I'd said that during my… Shaking his head the older man moved on, hoping for something more out of this one. "Next question. What is a Vindicator?"

What gives old man? I gave you the exact answer to the question you asked. Nothing more, nothing less. What did you want, a damn book? The younger man ground his teeth before answering. It wouldn't look too good to lash out at this stage. His training was almost finished and he'd put up with worse just to get this far. "A Vindicator is the one responsible for meting out punishment of Targets."

The older man sighed, I guess I should've expected that kind of response after his first answer. Look at him, a punk like him would never have made it in my day. My trainers would've killed him for his lack of respect or effort. "Why do Vindicators need to bring punishment to Targets?"

"A Vindicator must properly punish their Target to bring peace to those who were wronged." All things considered, he was doing pretty well. I haven't blown up on this annoying old fart and the questions are simple as hell. He let a small smirk slide onto his face.

"Yes, but why!?" The older man practically barked out, This boy has just about pushed me too far.

If the younger man was shaken, he didn't show it. The only noticeable change was the smirk disappearing and a tightness around his eyes. "A Vindication must be performed to ease the suffering of those who were wronged by the Target. This allows for the wronged souls to pass along peacefully and forces the Target to pass on as well, thus ending the chain of damage caused by that particular Target." His voice was oozing contempt by the time he finished speaking, but the object of his malice wasn't the older man. His thoughts were inward, looking back to a time when he was a child. It may have been ten years, but it was still a very raw wound.

A blink, nothing else. Finally! The boy shows some passion. His motives are clearly driven by a deep-seated pain. "Very good. You understand the basics of why you must perform your duties. Now, what are the core rules of the Vindicator code of conduct?"

"There is no formal code of conduct, only simple rules that must be followed to avoid unnecessary attention from the media and law enforcement agencies. A Vindication must not have a witness; Targets must not be made aware of their status until a Vindication is being performed and a Vindicator must not become personally involved with a Target." His eyes were still showing that his thoughts were elsewhere. The answer was automatic.

He's still re-living it. That has to be a seriously strong trauma to make him go on auto-pilot like that. There is hope for this one after all. "Correct. The rules are simple, so do not break them. All Targets are people without any close relatives or dependents, so as to keep the complications to a minimum. You are deemed worthy to become a Vindicator, dismissed!"

The older man waits a few minutes for his examinee to come back to the present and process that last statement. As the door closes he breathes out a sigh. "That started off like shit, but I think he's got some real potential." Turning to the shadowy wall that he knew to be a cleverly disguised two-way mirror he makes his thoughts known for the recording and the audience behind the glass.


AN: I've had the skeleton to this short story worked up for almost seven years now, but never had the urge to really do much with it. I decided to re-tool my existing story into a Bleach FF because of my love for Bleach and because I think there are characters that can fit into what I was intending.

All my thanks to my wife for encouraging me to write this story in the first place so long ago when she served as my first reader and critic.