Disclaimer: I forgot to add Bleach to my Christmas list, so that would be a no for this year. Maybe next time...

Rating: Is teen to be safe. Not expecting any execessive language or violence here, but it is only the first chapter.

Characters/Pairings: IchiRuki, one-sided RenRuki, other minor pairings may/may not be announced as the story progresses. Most characters will be used, though I can't promise the Vizoreds or all the captains.

AN: Woot! First Bleach fic! I'm ridiculously excited. If forwhatver reason you did not notice, this Christmas AU is a crossover with the lovely ballet, The Nutcracker. For those major ballet fans out there, I will try to do the Nutcracker portion some justice, but eventually the story will diverge more towards the Bleach storyline then Act II of the Nutcracker (sorry, can't write about them dancing the whole time now). The title I'm a little iffy on, so if anyone has any better suggestions I'm all ears. I've reread this story a dozen times, nitpicked it to death, and must sadly report I've probably still missed stuff, so I apologize for any mistakes. For now though, I finally present:


Silver Shoes and Orange Dolls


Once upon a time there was a girl in a cage, a mysterious toymaker, and an unknown force at work...

Act I: The Christmas Party

"Kuchiki-san, are you ready yet?" a maid, Momo Hinamori, timidly rapped on the solid oak door. She shifted from foot to foot in a worried manner. The party would commence soon, and Kuchiki-sama would be most displeased if his little sister arrived late. The young maid, only a teen of about seventeen, didn't think the nobleman would fire her, but she truly could not risk her job. Smoothing out the wrinkles of her black skirt, Hinamori took a breath to steel her patience, and raised a tiny hand to knock again. The door suddenly swung open, revealing the current source of Momo's troubles, Byakuya Kuchiki's younger sister: Rukia, her raven black hair uncombed and still clothed in a stable boys worn trousers and an oversized shirt.

Goodness she didn't even look like a lady, much less presentable.

"Kuchiki-san!" Hinamori squawked in horror, "you're not even dressed?!" The teenager looked down at her horribly casual apparel in disinterest, shrugging her shoulders uselessly. Momo knew better then to waste her breath lecturing Rukia about her wear, the girl had obviously been out riding earlier and couldn't have been bothered with proper, ladylike attire. Her dislike for dresses, especially when house back riding, was well known inside the manors walls.

"So I am not," Rukia replied loftily. Momo quickly pushed her way into Rukia's grand bedroom, hurriedly tugging the girl along side her. Rukia daintily perched herself on the seated window ledge of her room, dully watching the snowfall outside as her maid frantically flung dresses unto the plush bed.

"Goodness Kuchiki-san! Why are you being so difficult? I…I thought you liked Christmas! To hear that Kuchiki-sama was once again throwing the annual ball I thought you would be happy!" the maid huffed in despair, almond brown eyes glancing almost sadly at the dark haired girl across the room.

Rukia pulled her attention away from the winter wonderland outside her window to glance at Momo. Rukia felt a stab of regret for her childish behavior as she took in her flustered maid: eyes frantic, her usually neat hair falling sloppily out of her bun. The poor girl was ready to have a heart attack.

Rukia liked Momo; they were about the same age and out of all the maids employed at their mansion Momo was the only one who tried to understand her as Rukia the Girl and not Rukia the Grand Duchess. They had even grown up together for the most part. Byakuya had employed her when Rukia was around five; he had wanted Rukia to retain their Japanese heritage and felt having an actual companion who hailed from the Asian land would somehow help that. (In way it did, Momo certainly helped her pass the Japanese language courses Byakuya made her take…)

Honestly the dark haired girl hadn't meant to stay out so late, she really did lose track of the time. The building frustration she had felt since the party's first announcement, just last month actually, had finally reached its apex on the eve the party. So between the hustle and bustle of frantic cooks, maids, and butlers, Rukia slipped out to the stables shortly after breakfast with no plans to return till dusk. Actually, Rukia stood from her perch and calmly strode over to Hinamori, it was lucky she had decided to return early or her dear maid would have positively keeled over.

"I am sorry Hinamori-san," Rukia apologized as she snatched a dress from her closet. "I did not mean to lose track of time. It was purely accidental this time." This time referring to all the other instances when Rukia purposefully arrived late for a ball. She inspected the dress with indifference before tossing it with the other rejects. After a few more minutes of rummaging she finally located the exact gown her brother had picked out for tonight.

"This is so pretty Kuchiki-san!" Momo cooed and awed as she wrestled it from its hanger. Rukia couldn't help but smirk a little. Her brother did admittedly have excellent taste in women's clothing. She wondered if that had anything to do with her sister's touch or his remarkably stiff and fashionable upbringing. The girl's thoughts were interrupted as Momo hastily began to tug off her dirty clothes, nose wrinkling in distaste as she threw them in a corner.

The youngest Kuchiki remained silent as Hinamori helped her dress, only briefly protesting once when the young maid tugged her corset especially tight ("I'm sorry Kuchiki-san! If only your bust was a little bigger then I wouldn't half to lace it up so tight!"). Finally, after wrestling her way into the bulky evening dress, Rukia found herself seated as Momo fussed with her hair.

"Pardon if I am overstepping my bounds Kuchiki-san, but you don't seem very excited about the party. I thought you always enjoyed the Christmas ball as a child…" Rukia sighed, or well, tried to with the corset so tight, she figured Momo wouldn't let the question slide by gracefully.

"Tell me Hinamori-san, why do you think Nii-sama has decided to resume holding the ball after all these years?" Rukia asked icily. She inwardly winced, she hadn't meant to come off so cold, but her brother's reasoning infuriated her so. The ball had been Hisana's thing, something to celebrate her favorite holiday with all the cheer, and warmth, and splendor the Kuchiki fortune could afford. It had been an extravagant Christmas tradition for the family and its high society friends, right up until Hisana's death. Afterwards it simply had not been the same without her sisters glowing joyful presence, and not even Rukia questioned her brother when he announced they would no longer hold a ball.

Until this year that is.

Predictably, Hinamori answered, albeit rather hesitantly, that Byakuya was holding it to uphold Hisana's memory, deciding it was best to continue the tradition rather then let it fade. If the maid had not been busy gathering her short hair, which usually hung stubbornly around the nape of her neck, Rukia would have shook her head at Momo's naivety.

"If only it was that honorable," the dark haired teen scoffed. "Nii-sama may say that is his reasoning, but really he is only trying to find me a proper suitor." The word left a horrible taste in her mouth. Suitor. Husband.

Her brother had extended invitations to numerous dukes and lords, it was only expected after all, but she had not failed to notice exactly how many of them had rich bachelor sons (or were bachelors themselves) all hopeful for a high society wife. The very thought sickened her. And to make the situation even worse, Byakuya knew that she knew of his intentions, hence the extravagant gown and the cold reminders he gave her this past week. Missing this ball would be a big mistake on her part, especially in her brother's eyes.

"But don't you want to get married Kuchiki-san? To ensure a secure future with a rich and able husband…I hear the Count Iba is quite the looker," Hinamori said with faux cheer. Rukia lifted a slim, skeptical eyebrow at her friend, smirking knowingly when Momo's enthusiasm deflated. "Right, that haircut is rather ridiculous," she murmured.

Rukia knew that it was only a matter of time before her brother began to push the subject on her. After all, her coming out party was coming up soon, and once she was the proper age (seventeen) society would deem it suitable for her to begin courting. Byakuya would of course ensure that she entered a proper, wealthy family; someone with royal ties like the Kuchiki. She knew her dear brother only wanted to secure her a safe and reliable future, but in truth, it wasn't what she wanted.

"Ah! What about the Duke of Westminster, Kyoraku-san? I hear he is a very wealthy and influential man," Momo suggested eagerly.

"I suppose that would be a fetching match, if he wasn't such an old womanizer," Rukia retorted smartly. Momo clucked her tongue in disapproval, though Rukia wasn't sure if it was over her remark or the stubborn bang that refused to be pulled back from the bridge of her nose.

"True," Momo sighed, "but he is only in his late thirties, and still so handsome." Seemingly satisfied with the result of her labors, the girl sat down the ivory combs and went to work lightly applying make-up. They briefly lapsed into silence, allowing Rukia's troubling thoughts to stir.

She wasn't meant for this life: fluttering about with the high class ladies, learning music and art, always being so prim and proper for society. Rukia had been adopted into nobility as an infant (something she knew she should be eternally grateful for) when her sister married the Grand Duke Byakuya Kuchiki. In reality, she had a hard time appreciating it. Rukia immensely disliked the chains that this aristocratic lifestyle required of her, and never found herself quiet able to fit in.

However, she carried the Kuchiki name, raised by their wealth and prestige. Rukia knew Byakuya faced terrible scandal when he brought home a foreign peasant girl to marry with a tiny babe in tow. If marrying herself off could somehow help him well then…

"Finite! Oh Kuchiki-san you look beautiful," Momo breathed in admiration.

The girl finally turned and fully viewed her reflection. The image gazing back at her was petite in statue, unusually tiny for her age. Clinging to her curvy slender frame was a gorgeous silky evening gown, crème in color with golden flower trim along the bottom and intricately designed on the bodice. It was square necked, showing off a generous amount of pale white shoulder, neck, and back, but cut so only the tops of her very pushed up breasts were exposed; its puffy sleeves hung off her slender shoulders. The skirt of the dress was flared out like the current style required, completely hiding her legs and her feet. To complete the dress a white sash was tied around her waist and formed into a neat, pert bow on her back.

The dress was indeed very beautiful, custom made especially for her small size, as most full length evening gowns swallowed her whole. Hinamori, who had given up on taming Rukia's short hair, had pinned it up in a neat bun held together with a silver butterfly clip, a long favorite gift from her sister, with her one black bang still resting across the bridge of her nose. Momo had done well to apply very little make-up, just some rouge to give her pale face the slightest of color, added a smidge of redness to her lips, and some charcoal around the eyes to make her strange, amethyst iris' even brighter. Rukia was a little surprised the maid even bothered to apply make-up, both knew very well some of the ladies downstairs would be flabbergasted to see something so improper, but she approved nevertheless.

Rukia was almost taken aback by her reflection. She was aware that she was rather attractive, but to see this breathtaking woman gazing back at her under dark lashes and in expensive silk…she hardly recognized herself.

Pretty, perfect bait for all the hungry rats, she thought bitterly.

"Come along Kuchiki-san! The party began a few minutes ago! We shouldn't keep your escort waiting any longer!" Momo gently prodded her away from the mirror. Shaking the gloom from her thoughts, Rukia snatched her white gloves from the vanity and dutifully followed Momo from the quiet solitude of her room.

I can do this. She took a steady breath, ignoring how the corset pinched her ribs and seemingly worsened the pit in her stomach.

When she exhaled, Rukia Kuchiki, the Ice Grand Duchess of England, elegantly stepped forward, and strode towards the waiting guests.

I must.


The ball room was exquisitely decorated for the Christmas season. Poinsettia's and candles adorned every frost covered window; bright red bows tied back the heavy curtains. There was an explosion of tinsel, and beads, and wreathes everywhere, all tastily matching the marble floors, ivory laced mirrors, and oil-paint family portraits. In the far right corner a pianist spun music from the lovely cherry wood piano with the accompaniment of his fellow musicians, adding familiar holiday tunes to the festive atmosphere for the dancers. Opposite of them towered the great evergreen Christmas tree, lavishly decorated with German glass ornaments, pearl beads, and popcorn strings; a great mass of presents rested beneath its rich green branches, enticing the children who were lucky enough to attend such a grand event.

Rukia wished she could have spent the night admiring the servant's remarkable efforts; they certainly did not fail to embrace the Christmas spirit. Rather, she found herself dancing with stranger after stranger as various gentlemen proceeded to invite her for the waltz, and the Grand March, and so forth. She had struggled not to refuse the requests, only because she felt her brother's cold eyes sharply watching her the entire time.

She found it all so taxing. Rukia longed for the dances past when she was allowed to run about freely, enjoying the food and watching the ladies and gentlemen rather then joining. Alas it was not to be, and instead she had to make idle chit chat with the droll Dukes, and Counts, and Barons who asked for her attention.

Because there's nothing like hearing, "You're name is so unique for this area, are you truly English?" and explain that I'm Japanese for the hundredth time; she rolled her eyes as Earl Who-ever inquired about it. The Earl, while admittedly easy on the eyes, was painfully dimwitted and boorish and Rukia could not wait until she could extract herself from his arms. The raven-haired Duchess did not hesitate to curtsy once the song was over and quickly, yet politely!, excuse herself.

Using the crowd as a cover, she swiftly stepped off the dance floor and snatched a glass of champagne from a passing servant. Doing her best to remain discreet, Rukia wandered toward a lonely window, hoping for only a minute to herself. I wonder where Renji went off to…she wondered between sips of her beverage. Her long-time friends' appearance was probably the most exciting thing that would happen tonight. Her eyes softened a bit of the thought of him.

Renji Abarai had worked as their stable boy during her childhood. Despite the vast class difference between them (and her family's disapproval) they had become fast friends and remained close as they explored childhood together. Rukia spent many an afternoon out at the stables with him, getting into all sorts of mischief and, when the appropriate moment was available, even sneaking off into the nearby village. They had had great times, she, Renji, and the other peasant children. Until, that is, Renji decided he had to prove himself or something ridiculous like that, and ran off to join her Highness' army. When he returned after the death of…him…he had scarcely been the boy she knew growing up, addressing her Lady Kuchiki (something she found extremely irritating), and acting as if, well as if they didn't even know each other! Though she hated to admit it, it had been heartbreaking to be so coldly acknowledged by a dear friend, and for the first time she had felt the enormous difference between them.

So it had been a surprise to see her escort for the evening was Renji-a much warmer Renji with his patent smirk and a laxer stance (though that was only a slight difference, he still stood with the stiff and formal proud air of a soldier). Rukia had been taken aback by how much he had grown. His bright red hair was still absurdly long and pulled back into it's signature spiky pony tail, but his lean face was definitely narrower and stronger to her, his eyes less hungry and more alive then ever. What also drastically changed his appearance was the strange collection of tattoo's that adorned his forehead; outrageous and mysterious even to Rukia who didn't know their origins or reasons. The shy child she once knew now stood tall and proud, broad shoulder's arrogantly displaying the uniform he wore.

He had bowed, stiff and painfully formal, muttering his polite greetings and barely meeting her eyes.

But she hadn't cared. Even as she weakly took his stiffly proffered arm and walked downstairs without even a hello, Rukia was simply thankful to have one familiar face tonight. Perhaps Renji, her only and best friend, would understand her plight. But then he disappeared, red hair blending with the decorations without another word.

Still, she reasoned with a swirl of her champagne, it was nice to see him; even if he acted rather standoffish, and it still stung. However even with his appearance, the night was still painfully dragging on, and Rukia had deemed it possibly one of her worst Christmas Eves' ever.

"Excuse me, Lady Kuchiki," a sweaty, meaty hand clamped on her petite shoulder, jerking her from her musings, "would you have this dance with me?" Rukia turned to meet the eager, beady eyes of Baron Marechiyo Omaeda. Quickly she covered her sick horror with a coy smile, fluttering her sooty lashes and replying lightly,

"I apologize Sir Omaeda, but I am feeling slightly ill and would prefer to sit out this dance," she said sweetly. The Baron was the last person she wished to deal with tonight. Rukia was sure her brother wouldn't mind her rejecting him; the fat, dense man was someone Byakuya probably didn't want her to marry. Besides, he was after all only a baron, surely he did not want her marrying that low in class…at least, that was her excuse.

"I insist my Lady, just one dance?" he wheedled, one pudgy finger moving to sweep her bang from her eyes. Outraged by his audacity to actually touch her so openly, Rukia stamped down the urge to viciously kick him in the shins and scream no. Eyebrow twitching in frustration, she took a calming breathe before answering.

"The Lady said no Omaeda, I suggest you find someone else," the frosty tone of Byakuya Kuchiki replied for her. Under his penetrating glare Omaeda withered and backed away, mumbling his apologies. "And if you ever touch my sister again you will pay dearly," the noble warned darkly. Rukia clamped down the giggles that threatened to erupt as she watched the piggish baron scamper away.

"Nii-sama…," Rukia began slowly, glancing upwards at the cold dark man that towered above her head. Her brother elegantly bowed and offered her his hand.

"Dance with me?" Rukia nodded, her tiny gloved hand sliding into his with the slightest hesitance.

Her stoic brother remained silent as they glided across the floor, gracefully out dancing the other couples among them. Rukia found it to be the most enjoyable dance she'd had all night; her brother was an excellent dancer and she did not have to worry about stumbling around bumbling steps or awkward turns. She sensed a storm brewing though, and no sooner to she find some of her tension seeping out of her shoulders did her brother decide to speak.

"I pleased that you are at least trying Rukia," Byakuya said. She bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to reverse those feelings if she voiced her true opinion. Instead she regarded him with a blank look, staring emotionlessly at features that were remarkably akin to her own though they did not share blood.

"I know you are not very happy about this," he continued. "But this is for the best. I have done my best to raise you as a lady, but also allow you to have some happiness. However the family is worried, they don't wish to leave the fortune to a spinster." The truth was delivered bluntly; just she both expected and suspected it to be. Byakuya would probably never take another wife, and with no heir to leave it to the fortune would fall into her hands. Her dark gaze focused on the ivory gleam of his kenseikan headpiece that adorned his long, black hair, hoping her eyes would not reveal her turbulent emotions.

"Of course Ni-sama," she said softly. "I will uphold our family's honor, no matter what." It was a painful vow to make, but despite her qualms she had long learned to accept her place on this earth. For a moment, only the jovial strings of the cello and violin could be heard until Byakuya chose to speak again.

"You are not expected to choose a husband tonight. You have at least a year before I am required to step in and select one for you." Her gaze snapped to him in surprise. To even be given such a rare choice…no doubt it was Byakuya's doing. She looked down to hide the sudden swarm of tears.

"Thank you," she choked out gratefully. He said nothing, and they finished their dance in silence. He stiffly bowed before making his way over to other guests. Rukia herself abandoned the dance floor too, desperately in need of fresh air and solitude to sort out the latest revelation about her future. Rukia slyly slipped onto an empty balcony, shutting the glass doors to hide the party-goers view of her.

Despite the bitter December winds that bit her exposed skin, Rukia felt her body relaxing as she took in the peaceful winter night. The snowfall had temporarily stopped, and despite the heavy cloud cover Rukia could make out the soft glow of the moon. The brisk air was welcomed in her lungs, as if nature was expelling the stuffy atmosphere of the ball from her.

One year then…

Winter had always been her favorite time of the year. Though most complained about the bitter cold and treacherous ice, Rukia appreciated the pureness of snowfall and rejuvenating frost that swept away the stifling heat of summer. Perhaps, she thought sarcastically, maybe my affinity to it is the reason for my personality. It was well known even to her, the title as the Kuchiki "Ice Princess": cold and untouchable, even towards her family. But that suited her it just fine. She did not care to mingle with shallow ladies and peacock gentlemen. Those who truly made efforts to know her were the ones worth her time.

Sadly, that list was rather short, and now, it appeared, her time was too.

"My, my, what is this? The Lady of the hour sulking alone and in the cold? How unsightly!" Another intruder and this one was more annoying then any other man that had approached her tonight.

"I was not aware that Nii-sama actually invited you, Urahara-san," Rukia glared at the smirking man as she turned to face him.

"Sadly no, but my dear Yoruichi was allowed to bring a guest," he replied with a beaming grin. "But of course, you know the ball wouldn't be the same without the presence of the great toymaker Kisuke Urahara!" Rukia rolled her eyes.

"Your presence would be better suited as a jester, " she retorted smartly, referring to the man's well-known goofy and laid-back character.

Kisuke Urahara lived in the town surrounding the Kuchiki estate. He was a brilliant man and excellent swordsman who, for reasons unknown to her, left a life of privilege to live here making and selling toys. Of course, he also tinkered with curious inventions, all of his own design, so perhaps the title of town inventor better described the eccentric man rather than toymaker.

In years past he had always made his presence-invited or not-known at the annual Kuchiki Christmas gala, bringing a bulging bag of various goodies for the children that had been allowed to come. Rukia herself could remember receiving many gifts from Urahara as a child; always excited to receive his simple, yet superbly made, toys though she was bound to receive even more glamorous presents the next morning. When Byakuya stopped throwing the parties Kisuke's presence all but disappeared from the manor. Rukia had only heard of him and his bizarre antics from town since then.

"You wound me deeply Lady Kuchiki! Must you be so cold?" the toymaker shivered in an exaggerated manner, or perhaps it was genuine since Rukia too felt herself beginning to shiver.

"Why are you out here?" Rukia asked, violet eyes narrowed in suspicion. Not that Kisuke was necessarily an untrustworthy man, but she was curious as to why he would seek her out. It wasn't as if they had any business with each other, past or present.

"Why indeed?" In a flash a paper fan was hiding his face almost shyly, head tilted downward so his felt green top hat cast a shadow over his eyes. Rukia's eyebrows twitched in exasperation. Where in the world did he get that? And why does he even have one?! Gentlemen were not the ones who were supposed to play with fans.

"Perhaps I just wanted to talk a little. It has been a long time my Lady," he singsonged.

"Well then we have talked, so we are done here." She did not have the patience to deal with this childish man right now. All she wanted was solace.

"Casting me away so sooon?! Here I thought we could discuss your last time as a free woman of society!" Despite his light tone and casual flutter of the fan, Kisuke Urahara's face was strangely grave. Her spine ramrod straight, she fully turned her attention to the mysterious toymaker, a dark glare painting her pretty features. What buisness did he have, bringing up such a personal manner! The man wasn't even family.

"You're not out here to propose to me are you Urahara-san?" she asked dryly, though there was a hint of malice to the question. As quickly as it had arrived his seriousness disappeared, and Urahara was outwardly guffawing at her comment.

"Heavens no Lady Kuchiki! I am a taken man," he stated cheerfully. She highly doubted that; the toymaker was just as famous for womanizing as he was for his inventions. Then again…Yoruichi Shihoin did often keep his company…

"Though there is no question about it, you are a lovely woman. I see why brother dear keeps such a close eye on you…" the sandy-haired man trailed off, brown eyes leaving her face to roam lower. She felt her face flush with embarrassed indignation. If he was out here to try something…indecent well then! However she caught the look in his eyes and noticed it wasn't one of lust or admiration, but troubled concern. Feeling the flutter of alarm in her stomach she glanced down, not seeing anything other than her own skin, the top of her dress bodice, and the diamond pendant that always hung from her neck.

He mumbled something that was lost to a sudden gust wind. Rukia kept her silence, not sure what to make of the strange air between them. Suddenly his fan snapped open again, and a strange playful grin stretched across his face.

"You know, Lady Rukia, that no man here is really fit to be your husband," he mock sighed and clucked his tongue. Her lips twitched ever so slightly in amusement.

"Then you should talk to Nii-sama about that then. I am already very much aware of that fact," she said wearily, bitterly. Urahara chuckled in agreement.

"Then I have the perfect gift for you!" the toymaker exclaimed, whipping a burlap sack out from behind him. What? He must be a bit touched. He rummaged through it excitedly, tisking and hmming in thought. Rukia tapped her foot impatiently, both intrigued and annoyed with the curious man. What is he up to?

"Aha! Perfect." the toymaker pulled something from his sack, muttering lightly as a gloved hand swept over it. "Here I present to you, Lady Rukia, a much more suitable husband," he bowed deeply and then held out to her…a nutcracker.

"Urahara…" on one hand, she was irritated that he would make so lightly of her situation, but then she figured, reaching out and cautiously taking the nutcracker from him, it was slightly touching as well.

"Doth the lady like it?" The toy was certainly unique compared to other nutcrackers, she noted. It did stand tall like the typical toys, decorated in a bright red soldier's uniform coat, black pants, hat, and boots. One digit-less 'hand' was held towards the decorative sword as its waist, the other straight and useless by its side. However, that was where any similarity it held towards is processors' ended. The nutcracker's 'hair' was a shocking odd orange rather than snow white, and it lacked the typical felt beard. The painted brow was furrowed almost in a scowl, and its mouth was also painted closed and in a frown. In a way the nutcracker looked a like a disgruntled young boy rather then a cheery, mustached soldier.

"It is…different," she said at last, but with a touch of affection. Urahara had certainly created a distinctive toy, and she couldn't help but appreciate his craftsman ship. He chortled gleefully.

"I thought you may like it! The great Urahara had done it again!" Violet eyes rolled exasperatedly, but focused on the toy held delicately in her small hands. While hardly a suitable husband, much less perfect, there was something about the nutcracker that tugged at her heart. It certainly did look a lot like Kaien…Furiously she shook her head. Now that is utter nonsense, she berated herself.

"Now one last thing Rukia," he stated, once again serious. She was surprised by his lack of formality, but his sudden mood swing knocked her off guard so she ignored it. "This is a very," he especially stressed this, "special nutcracker. Please take good care of him." Rukia blinked in bewilderment, glancing down at the innocent toy she held skeptically. An odd request, but given her equally odd attachment to the gift she wouldn't protest it.

"Of course Urahara-san. I shall treasure it always." His eyes twinkled with a mysterious cheer.

"That you will my Lady. That you will…" he snapped his fan shut, bowed, and turned while throwing over his shoulder, "it was nice speaking to you Lady Kuchiki. Have a Merry Christmas!" and just like that, the toymaker was gone.

"Definitely a bit touched," she murmured to the nutcracker. Sighing, she looked upwards and noticed it was snowing again, shivering as the crystal flakes made contact with her frozen bare skin. It was time to reenter the world of royalty once again.

No sooner did she step inside the warm room and shut the doors did she find yet another large calloused hand grasping her forearm. Could she not be alone for one second?! Her anger getting the better of her, she wrenched her arm from the stranger's grasp and whirled around, a fiery tirade on the tip of her tongue, only to discover that it was Renji requesting her attentions. A very red-faced, glazed eyed, drunk, Renji.

This did not bode well.

"Can we…can we speak somewhere private?" he asked nervously. The raven haired girl was relieved to hear that his speech wasn't slurring, meaning perhaps he was not too tipsy. Adjusting her grip on Urahara's precious gift she nodded and beckoned him to follow her.

Hoping that no one, especially her brother, would see her slipping away with the redhead, Rukia took them to the private pallor room. This was where their actual Christmas tree resided and where Rukia, her brother, and other family would exchange gifts tomorrow morning. It was blessedly empty, save for the two of them.

"What do you want Renji?" she asked coldly. She would have felt guilty at seeing him flinch, but she was too frustrated and hurt by his past behavior to truly care. Perhaps it was best that there was distance between them now, he was just so different from the boy she knew, and she too had changed as well…

"I heard yer getting married," the redhead said bluntly. This time Rukia flinched; of course he would have to hear that.

"Not yet," she answered mildly, turning her head away to look anywhere but at his livid, flashing cold eyes.

"But you will be," he hissed angrily, taking a possessive step into her personal space. Ever defiant, Rukia refused to step back, refusing to be intimidated by his towering figure.

"So? I will not disgrace the family name! I will accept Nii-sama's request and find a proper husband, for the good of the Kuchiki." Her steely gaze bore into his; neither willing to back down. Renji pushed his face closer to hers, his warm sweet breath clouding her senses.

"Since when in bloody hell have you ever given a damn about your family and their wants? The Rukia I knew would have never agreed to this!" he roared; she couldn't help but step back at his drunken rage.

"It does not matter anymore who I once was Renji! That has nothing to do with my future! You should respect that! Isn't that why you left? To build a better future for yourself?!" she flung back at him. He was right; she did not want to marry some rich man who cared more about her status then her actual physical presence. But it stung to hear him accuse her of changing into something so ugly and strange when he had done the same as well.

Immediately the drunk deflated, wearily rubbing his face. She turned away from him, not wanting him to see the sudden flux of frustrated tears that were shimmering in her ducts.

"Rukia…damn it Rukia I'm sorry. I didn't want us to start fightin' and everything," he groaned in aggravation. "It's just…geez." Renji mumbled something intelligible. "Hell with it!" he declared, stumbling to his knees before a shocked Rukia.

"Rukia Kuchiki, will you marry me!?"

She was dumbfounded. Frozen in distress, her mouth opened and shut wordlessly, trying to form some coherent form of speech but utterly unable to do so. His words echoed in her mind, caressing her brain but refusing to be absorbed and understood. Renji…

"Look, I know I'm not royalty, and I am not rich, but in the New Year I will be promoted to a vice captain in the Queen's Guard. That should give me enough standing and money for the marriage to be acceptable! Rukia…say something Rukia!" She swallowed nervously a few times before words finally found her again.

"Renji…," she began warily.

"Please Rukia, I, I love you. I can't bear the thought of you being given away to some heartless bastard who doesn't give a damn about you." Her long time friend clutched at her numb hand desperately, eyes searching hers madly.

"Renji, thank you, but, I can't. You are one of my closest and dearest friends but…I am afraid I don't return your feelings," the words were just as painful to say as they were to hear, but she could not lie to him.

"So you'd rather marry someone who doesn't love you at all then?!" he spat resentfully, dropping her hand in disgust. Her amethyst eyes widened in alarm.

"No! No, it's just that…it would be a lie, and we both know it. I would be using you Renji and, you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy," she reasoned gently. However her words seemed to add heat to Renji's ire.

"Bullshit Rukia! What about your happiness?! Huh?" He had risen to his feet, stumbling towards her like an angry bull. Mournfully, her eyes slid to the nutcracker she was hugging to her chest, taking in the painted features that were so painfully familiar.

"We both know that is not what I deserve," she said lowly, her grip tightening on the toy.

"What no, Rukia that's not," he swayed dangerously on his feet, but his anger was so great Rukia was afraid to approach him, "that's not true and, and, damn it no, and… LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU!" The drunk unexpectedly lashed out, wrenching the nutcracker from her arms and furiously throwing it towards the ground. Her reaction was instantaneous.

"No Renji!" she shrieked, heart bottoming out as the nutcracker soared through the air and landed on the marble floor with a sickening crack. The duchess made to lunge for it, but Renji snatched her wrist in a bruising grip, and brought her close to his snarling face.

"Damn it I said-" Suddenly the doors flew open, and Hinamori rushed in followed by one of the mansions guards: Izuru Kira.

"Unhand Miss Kuchiki!" the blonde guard snapped into action, quickly crossing the room and holding his sword at Renji's throat. The redhead glared viciously at Izuru, contemplating to attack when the blonde spoke again, "You're better then this Abarai, just let her go and we can sort this out without you getting into too much trouble. You don't want to hurt her," he coached lowly. The haze seemed to have lifted a bit because Renji immediately released her and stumbled away, shame flooding his once twisted features.

Wordlessly Rukia slumped to her knees, too shockedangryscaredterrifed to notice Momo's concerned calling or Renji being dragged away. The long night was taking its toll on her, frustration and long hidden guilt bubbling at the surface. Was she seriously crying? Because of the argument? Or was it because of the nutcracker she had broken, the one she promised to take care of, that looked so much like…

She furiously tried to wipe away the unbidden tears with little success. Good God get a hold of yourself Kuchiki! It's just a damn nutcracker! It only happened to look like Kaien Shiba…Hinamori was coxing her onto her feet and upstairs, trying to keep curious partygoers outside the ball room from seeing Rukia in her distressed state.

Let them stare, I don't care, she thought emptily.

This was certainly shaping up to be the worst Christmas of her life.


Much later on, well after midnight when the guests had finally left or settled in a spare room for the night, Rukia found herself back in the pallor room. It was rather ironic she was finding comfort here, only hours earlier she and Renji had fought in this room, but the roaring fire and glistening Christmas tree provided her with some comfort the vastness and coldness of her room could not offer tonight.

She had settled in a chair in front of the fireplace, snuggled in a nightdress with a book to boot. The raven haired noble had managed to recollect herself shortly after returning to her room, and was making swift work to not linger on the nights events. Rather, she wrapped herself in the old Christmas tales she and her sister use to read the night before every Christmas, cuddling before this very fire. It was one tradition she upheld after Hisana's death, something she alone did.

So she was understandably startled to hear someone enter the room; Rukia did not expect anyone else to be up so late but her. Curious, she sat up and peered over her chair to see Byakuya, still clad in his dress coat from earlier. Quickly she rose to her feet, pushing down the dread that rose within her.

"Nii-sama-!"

"I will make sure Abarai will be properly dealt with. I know you have a certain…fondness for the boy, but his actions are inexcusable for someone of the Queen's Guard." His tone broached no room for argument, and Rukia was too exhausted to put up a fight so late at night.

"Yes Nii-sama. Anything else?" At this his usually stoic face softened a little and he held out the nutcracker Urahara had given her. Shocked, but slightly elated to see it in one piece, Rukia lifted it from his hold. She noted that someone, probably a servant, had wrapped a small piece of cloth around its one arm in a sling. Closer inspection revealed the arm had not snapped off but rather the wood was merely cracked. Grateful no greater damage had been dealt to the toy, Rukia hugged it to her chest, wishing once again why she had such a sudden attachment to the figure. Looking up to express her thanks, Rukia was met with empty space and a gently closing door. She smiled ruefully and moved back to the chair.

"This is so foolish, caring so much for a simple nutcracker," she scoffed aloud. "I am no longer a child; I should not hold such concern for a plaything." But even the reprimand could not harden her joy. Deciding the matter could wait for later, Rukia returned to her story, the nutcracker left by her side.

Between the warmth of the glowing fire and the lateness of the hour, the duchess never noticed her violet eyes slipping shut.

Nor, to be precise, did she notice how the room began to grow larger. Nor did she hear the scampering claws of rats or see a set of beady eyes glowing at her.

Innocently she slept, never realizing the sudden danger she was now in…


AN: Geez, I write too much. Sorry that this chapter was so long and filler-ish, but I really wanted to get the ball rolling here, and was just trying to push through the party so we can get to the good stuff *coughIchiRukilove*cough* ! I am also sorry I made Renji to be such a douchemuffin. Trust me, I really do like him, but someone just had to break the nutcracker, it happened in the ballet! Why is that important to me, not sure. This was supposed to be posted a billion weeks ago in hopes of wraping this up for Christmas; alas time escaped me and that won't be happening. However I am determined to finish this, and swear to give it my utmost attention.

About the switching between use of suffix's and not: I'm pretty much use to using them because I like authenticity, so I stay away from the dubs. However, I realized it was rather idiotic for them to be using suffix's when this is partially takes place in England, so some characters (those with established Japanese backgrounds like Momo and Rukia) will use them and others won't. Sorry if it gets confusing.

Rukia: Is a pain for me to write. Please let me know if she's too OOC. I love her character, but sometimes I find her difficult to write.

At the end of the story I'll post the credits if anyone can't tell which Nutcracker character's the Bleach character's are representing. Until then please review, I'd love to hear what you guys think of this.