I just couldn't leave this AU alone... So here you go, a prequel to Dinner with the Family
(dont you just love my creative titles? XD )
If you haven't read Dinner with the Family yet, I recommend you do so! This will still make sense if you read it first, obviously, and it does take place before the main story, but it will take some of the fun out of the original story! Just a fair warning~
Enjoy!
It was a quiet evening, calm, peaceful even. The weather was nice and the sun was shining, but not for much longer as it began it's decent into the horizon. The city streets still bustled with people commuting home from work for the night, the lively sounds of voices and traffic muted from the length of the extensive, well manicured front lawn. The streets would soon be cleared, the city winding down for a peaceful night, hard working men and women going home to their loved ones and forgetting about the harsh world around them. At least until the morning news.
But the night life was just beginning to stir. Those who thrived in the darkness of the city were awakening, readying for another night of business and dealings in all manner of things considered taboo and feared by the everyday citizens. Powerful men warred to become even more powerful, controlling their territories and occasionally greedily fighting for more. Murder was common, killing was a simple thing, death was their business and whoever could go about their business the quickest, most ruthlessly and unforgivingly would rise through the ranks.
And one man stood out amongst the others; more cunning with new ideals and ideas, the determination and brutality to take what he wanted, and the unrelenting personality to let nothing stand in his way.
Perched upon the top of the long, expertly crafted dinning table, the young man kicked his legs slightly, letting them sway under him as he looked down at his handy work. A wide smirk creased unnaturally pale lips and the man addressed the only other person in the room. Well, the only other living person in the room, anyway.
"Daddy taught me well, didn' he?" The young man tilted his head to the side and leaned backward to support his weight on leanly muscled arms. The deep crimson material of his silk button up shirt had been rolled passed his elbows, further revealing his lack of pigment. His fitted, charcoal grey slacks, probably costing more than most people's entire wardrobe, clung to long, lean legs as the man ceased their movement and crossed one to rest over the knee of the other. He casually replaced the safety on his handgun and laid it on the table beside him.
"Perhaps a bit too well, Sir. I'm sure he would be proud" The smooth voice of the room's other living occupant held an amused tone to it. This man, much more colorful than the first, stood a few feet to the right of the table and his boss that still sat atop it. He looked at the older gentleman sitting at the head of the table; his cooling body slumped and a surprised look on his quickly paling face. A small trickle of blood seeped down the dead man's face from the wound that had killed him; a bullet between the eyes. Clean. Simple. A befitting end to a boring and uneventful reign.
The first man's laughter shattered the calm at his hit man's reply. Oh, but if daddy wasn't dead... The irony in his closest man's words hit a sour note with the young man even as he laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. His father had never been proud of his only son; born an albino, with a strange appearance and a strange voice.
His father had come to fear him, and rightly so. The man had even gone so far as to lock his only child in the mansion, keeping him mostly hidden from his business peers and partners. Of course he was known of by the higher ups of the underworld, one couldn't exactly hide a child, especially one of this particular young man's...creativity. Even as a young child he had been blood thirsty and ambitious, impossible to tame or keep locked away for long.
"Call a dinner party, Ichi!" The young man called out cheerfully in his lilting voice. "It's mah birthday after all, we gotta celebrate"
On this night, his twenty-first birthday, the albino would rightfully claim what was his. Father had promised him a branch of the family when he became a man. He knew the bribe had mostly been made to keep him quiet and well behaved, but now that he was done waiting for that time to come, he wanted more. A single branch wouldn't quench his thirst, not when he could push this mediocre mafia family to new heights.
He had done his homework and studied hard. He had learned how to handle the business side of the above ground and underground world. He had made connections and friends in both high and low places. He knew how the business of murder worked and he excelled in it. He also found that his appearances were startling to more than just his weak father and he had no problem putting them to use and taking advantage of other's surprise and unease. One had to work with what one had, yes?
"Of course, Don Shirosaki" Ichigo replied, a smile that nearly matched the young Don's rested on pink lips as he watched liquid gold eyes swirl in their sea of black. Haunting and beautiful. Shiro would go far. He was intelligent like his father was, but much more brutal and passionate. He wasn't afraid to go after what he wanted, wasn't afraid of who he had to step on to get there and he certainly wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty.
Ichigo silently vowed his loyalty to the pale Don as he left the room to announce the young man's birthday and begin preparations. Shirosaki would be well enough on his own for a few hours until the more dangerous of the guests began to arrive.
Shiro's smirk was firmly in place as he hopped off the table and scurried to his dead father's side. He threw one arm around the cooling body's slumped shoulders and rested his head on the high back of the chair it sat in, tucking his pistol back into the waist band of his slacks as he went.
"Well, daddy. Thanks so much fer the present! It's wha' I've always wanted" The albino said, his mocking enthusiasm making his watery voice sound even more lilting and singsong than normal. He reached over inside his father's black suit jacket and pulled the older man's cellphone from the pocket. Time to make some calls to all the higher ups of his family; now all much lower in ranking than he was and many of whom would not be holding their standing once he reorganized the way things ran.
He would leave the celebration and announcement planning to Ichigo. Being nearly the same age, he and the hit man had bonded rather well all things considered and he knew he could trust the intelligent, orange haired man.
Shiro had big plans for Ichigo. He refused to waste the man's talent and brains on simple hits any longer, like had been happening under his father's rule. Ichigo would become the first in his line of new hit men. Shiro had always loved the simple, perfect brutality of the military police canine units, and having been trained in a police academy once upon a time before he had decided most of the people he was saving didn't deserve it, Ichigo knew how the law enforcement's most effective weapon worked.
But Shirosaki had even larger ambitions than putting dogs to use. That was too simple for his tastes, too plain and boring. Dogs, while being wonderfully loyal beasts, were too easy to defeat. Sure, they were vicious and would run right to their deaths if their master so commanded, but he wanted to out do that. What would be able to out think, out smart it's opponent; whether that opponent be an animal, a person or even a hit man trained in the arts of killing? Why, another hit man, of course.
He planned on training two different types of hit men. He had already coined his terms and everything.
Ichigo would become the first of his Handlers. Doing much the same as a police animal handler would do, his Handlers would sick his other, more primal hit men on targets. They would be trained in the ways of normal hit men; killing and eliminating targets using the typical gun. They would be smart men and women, cunning and well educated. They would act as the negotiator for the two man teams; handling any talking, tracking, dealing or threatening that may be called for. Even act on his own behalf should the need arise.
His second type would be called Hunters. His Hunters would effectively be the dog; brutal, wild, vicious and fearless. Hunter's would be the muscle and fear factor behind his teams. They would do the killing and delivering of messages of the more bloody and unfriendly kinds. Hunters would be brutal men that would fearlessly run down a target, killing, maiming or anything else they were instructed to do. However, unlike a dog, they would have the intelligence and logic to be able to act on their own without commands when needed. They would have the cunning to out think their targets, to assess situations and deem the best way to proceed.
The Don straightened and ran his black nailed fingers through his snowy, unbound hair as he thought about the new hit men he would create and mold. He would have to make Ichigo his right hand man. The orangette was already his most trustworthy underling, it just made sense. It was unheard of for a mere hit man to be considered a second in command of sorts, but then, Shiro planned to upset the balance of the whole city.
After his party, where he would announce his father's retirement from the business and his stepping into the man's place as head of the family, Shiro would begin reworking his group of killers; selecting who would be staying and who would be following his father, then choosing who to make Handlers and who to make Hunters.
The albino patted his dead father's shoulder in an almost loving way, spun on his heel and practically danced out of the dining hall. He had to get ready for his party after all.
Within the hour, Ichigo had made all the necessary arrangements and phone calls, invitations were delivered via a personal call from the orangette and the dining hall was being redecorated in a style more befitting of the new Head of the family. The Don's father was carted away to be disposed of and the older man's family crest, a silver and onyx ring, now adorned Shirosaki's left thumb, the opposite hand as his father had worn it. While wearing the ring showed Shiro's leadership and standing in the family, the change in position was a symbol of the changes to come.
Another hour or so went by and the guests began arriving to the impromptu dinner party for the fairly small mafia family head's son. Little did they know that Shiro was no longer just the man's son, but his heir and the new Don. The guests, men and women of loyalty to and on friendly terms with the family, were treated to quite the change of venue.
The expensive, polished wooden floor of the mansion's dining hall had been replaced by black tile with the occasional rich violet tile, nearly black, interspersed through out. The once white walls had been repainted to a rich gray with intricately carved, black molding around the ceiling and for the chair rail. A white cloth, starkly contrasting with the dark feel and colors of the room, had been pressed and lain over the black, wooden table. The black chairs had high, arching backs and were also intricately carved. In the very center of the table, a sculpted black glass vase held long stem red roses and added a splash of sharp color. Over all, it was a stunningly beautiful, if not slightly intimidating looking room. A perfect match to the man they would soon learn was taking control.
Shirosaki himself finally made his appearance. His tailored, white suit was pristine. He wore a dark, silk button up under the white suit jacket, the top few buttons left open to reveal prominent collar bones and the very top of a toned, milky chest. A thin silver chain hung around his neck and his long, feathery locks had been tied back with a black silk ribbon at the base of his neck. A black rose had been placed in the breast pocket of his jacket and his haunting, liquid gold on black eyes were bright and intelligent. It was a startling look that people would come to associate with the ghostly, powerful man for years to come.
A sly smirk rested on colorless lips as Shiro approached the still empty chair at the head of the table, the chair that would have previously been reserved for his father. Murmurs erupted about the table as the albino took his place and crossed his hands on the table before him. He snapped his fingers before replacing them back on the table and servants began pouring a rich, red wine into the glasses resting before himself and his guests.
He always did like a good show, and what a performance it was turning out to be.
"What is the meaning of this?" One man spoke up from mid table, interrupting the quiet din of the murmured chatter.
"Is this some sort of joke? Is your father letting you play dress up for your birthday?" Another man asked, his voice full of contempt and his unhappiness at his precious time seemingly being wasted obvious.
The last comment had pale lips parting in a sneer before the albino calmed himself again, refrained from killing his guest, and spoke up from the head of the table. "I assure ya, sirs, this is no joke." His lilting voice silenced the room and commanded attention. "I am here ta announce my father's resignation from the business. Regrettably, he cannot make the party 'n person as he's dead."
The new Don's blunt words drew shocked gasps from the people around the table. From his place beside the entrance, dressed as one of the other servants, sharp brown eyes scanned the guests, keeping watch. No movement escaped his attention and Ichigo would insure the new Don was safe at his dinner party.
"However, tha's why I'm here. I will 'fficially be takin' his place as Don, effective immediately." The smirk was firmly back in place, consuming his ashen features. All of the people gathered around his table stared at him in varying degrees of shock and disbelief and Shiro basked in the attention.
Dinner was served in silence and it was several minutes before anyone ventured forth and spoke again. A man toward the opposite end of the table rose his glass of red wine in a toast and politely cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention.
"To good business and the new Don" The man's voice was quiet and sophisticated as he spoke, his slate grey eyes trained on the pale man that was hosting the party. He had never particularly cared for the young man's father and so the older man's death was unimportant to him. And who knew, maybe his heir wouldn't be quite so worthless.
"Here, here" Fiery gold locked with cool, calm grey and Shiro raised his own glass. He had a feeling this was the beginning of a very important partnership. Don Byakuya would be staying on his list of allies for the time being.
Dinner proceeded smoothly after that. The guests ate, drank and conversed in a civil manner, welcoming the new Don into the business and, of course, wishing him a happy birthday. Wisely, no one questioned the old don's sudden demise and business ventures were left for another time. The other dons didn't begin filtering out of the grand mansion until the city around them was beginning to stir with the coming sun.
Shiro stripped from his white suit jacket and untucked his dark, silk shirt, still managing to look formidable and powerful as he made his way toward his chambers. He sneered down at the wooden floor; another thing to add to his "to do" list.
He dropped onto his large bed, mind wandering to all the things he would surely change. He was going to begin work on his new family as soon as the sun began to fade once more. So much would change, not a trace of his father's influence would be left when he was done. The family would be his and in time, the city would fall under his command as well. He had high expectations and would not tolerate failure on his own part, nor anyone else's.
Rising with the next Dusk, Shirosaki had a crew in to strip the floors of his mansion, paying them double to work at night so that he could sleep during the day as he was used to. Wood was replaced with black and white patterned, marble tile. The white walls of the extensive halls were painted in rich, dark colors with white accents. The golden and crystal chandelier that had been hanging in the foyer was torn down and replaced with a silver fixture.
A smirk permanently plastered to his ashen features, Shiro entered the vast training room, shutting the door behind him. The heavy, reinforced door effectively blocked out most of the sounds of the renovations and with his mansion guard keeping an eye on the working construction crew, he was able to slip out and check on Ichigo's progress.
After giving the orangette his instructions, his number one hit man had set about deciding who was worthy of the which titles and eliminating whom he felt to be lacking for either title. Not much training would be needed for the remaining men and women to be able to fulfill their role as Hunter or Handler and though Shirosaki was left with a rather small group of teams, they were loyal, skilled killers one and all and he didn't foresee any problems with gaining more in the future.
The Don stood at the edge of the room and watched as his group of hit men trained and practiced, getting to know their new partner and getting used to the new way things were being ran. Over all, he was pleased with how things were progressing.
Over the next week or so, Don Shirosaki continued purging and trimming his staff. People were shuffled around, thrown into new roles. Some were eliminated, others were deemed sufficient and appropriate and were left where they were. The renovations to his mansion were completed and the building screamed of the albino's ownership inside and out. A couple of the new Hunter/Handler teams, including Ichigo and his partner were sent out on their first trials; tracking down the scum that dared set foot in Shiro's territory to do their dealing. The missions, while relatively simple, were a vast success and the young Don's name was mentioned in whispered conversations and spreading quickly throughout the city's underworld.
"Sir, you really should be paying attention." A stiff, reed thin man scolded the Don in a voice that spoke of superiority.
If Shiro didn't know better, the haughty tone would have set him off and the man would probably be dead and bleeding on the floor by now. Then he'd have to find a clean up crew to get rid of his accident and that was always a hassle. As it was, the Don tuned back into the conversation and answered his glorified secretary.
"I'm payin' attention ta the important parts, Ishida. Ain't my fault yer borin'." He grumbled to the man, haunting eyes drifting up to look him in the face.
Ishida did a hell of a job at keeping things organized and did great at ordering his agenda and day job crap, but the man really did talk way too much. They were currently going over the status of the various teams he had out in the city; success rates, hits, gathered information, etc. He already knew his teams of hit men were doing flawless work. They had had only one serious injury, and considering they were playing in the big leagues with big names that was a damn good ratio. To top it off, the Hunter lived and would be back in the field soon with nothing more than a few stitches and a pretty new scar.
The Don watched his book keeper's lips continue to move for a few more seconds before going back to his meal and trying desperately to at least pay a little bit of attention to what the man was saying.
"Oh, and you should probably warn your men, there is apparently an escaped murderer on the loose. Do be careful while venturing out of the mansion."
Of all the things for him to tune into... Was Ishida being serious? Shiro shook his head and glanced back up at his secretary. "Ya realize ya work fer a murderer, right? That tha's what we do fer a livin'?"
"Yes, Sir. I do, what is your point?" Ishida asked, pushing his wireframe glasses back up his narrow nose as he looked down at his boss.
"Jus' checkin'. Don' think we have much ta worry about." The albino said, pushing his plate back and draping his white, cloth napkin across what was left of his meal. "If some common killer manages ta get one a my guys, I'll offer 'im a job." He mumbled absently as he stood and began leaving the dining room.
"You do realize you and your men are not invincible, right Sir?" The black haired man asked, clutching the reports at his side as he followed after the young Don. Sometimes he wondered why he had ever accepted the offer to work for this man, but he couldn't deny that he would never leave Shirosaki's side. The man had a strange way of commanding loyalty that he would never understand.
"Yeah, still workin' on tha' one." Shiro answered, walking down the extensive halls of his mansion. "Thinkin' bout hirin' this doctor scientist guy I've been lookin' in ta. Guess he lost his practice license fer testin' on patients er somethin'." The albino shrugged as he kept talking. "We'll need someone tha' can do better 'en the old guy my father had under his employ. He's got pink hair though" Shiro shrugged again and didn't pay attention to the slightly stunned face his secretary was directing his way.
"You've got to be kidding me." The man mumbled, rolling his eyes and pushing his glasses back up again.
"Nah, swear it's actually pink." Shiro said, knowing what the man was really exasperated over, but finding it all too amusing to toy with him anyway. While he was at it, he wondered if Ishida was seriously going to follow him to his private bathroom that was connected to his bedroom, because that's where he was headed and the man was still glued to his side.
"That's not what I meant. You can't seriously think this doctor will be able to make your men invincible...please tell me you are not quite that insane just yet."
Shiro's lilting laughter echoed down the empty halls. "Nah, I was just fuckin' wit' ya, Ishida. Ya need ta get laid and loosen up. Now, if ya 'xcuse me, gotta use the boys room" Shiro pushed the door to his personal washroom open, a wide grin marring his ashen lips as Ishida's features went slack and his dark brows shot to his hair line.
As soon as he realized where he was, the secretary promptly turned on his heal and practically marched out the Don's chambers. The albino's watery laughter followed him out the door.
Still chuckling to himself, the Don exited his private rooms a few minutes later to find Ishida standing in the hall; his face a very light shade of red and looking a little more exasperated than normal but still ready to continue his reports. Sighing to himself, Shiro put on his typical smirk and gestured for the secretary to continue while he continued to wander the halls, vaguely headed in the direction of his office.
"Where were we?" Ishida asked, the rhetorical question more of a way to focus himself rather than needing an answer. "Ah, yes. The final thing I was going to say; your top team is due back any minute, they have been instructed to meet you in your office per usual."
"Time?" Shiro asked, instantly perking up at the news that his team was already back, a job done and another target out of the way.
Ishida checked his papers, then his watch. "Four hours and thirty-six minutes, Sir."
The Don's smirk morphed into a grin, pale lips curling in delight at the news. "Damn. Tha' team's gettin' fast" Just over four hours to hunt and track down the target, corner and eliminate the man was a pretty damn good time. Especially since Ichigo's team had moved passed the smaller gang hits and onto actual mafia related persons. Shiro hadn't even given the team a location, they started out with only a name and description of the target.
"Yes, Sir. I suppose that is why they are your number one team." The raven haired man replied in a stiff tone, still pacing his boss as they traversed the corridors of the young man's mansion.
"I suppose yer right" Shiro stopped in front of his office, grin still firmly in place as he opened the door to find Ichigo and his Hunter already seated in front of his desk, waiting for him.
In the end, Ichigo had selected his own partner and so far it seemed to have been working quite well. The man was a small giant at nearly six and half feet tall and the heavily muscled build of a boxer. His intimidating size did nothing to make him look like the killer he was, however. Soft brown eyes, partially hidden behind a curtain of wavy brown hair, turned toward Shirosaki as he entered. The Hunter, Sado by name, didn't look like he could harm a kitten but when under the right instructions, he could really let loose. Ichigo seemed to be good at finding that side of the gentle giant.
Shiro turned back to his secretary with final instructions as he entered his office. "B'fore ya go, Ishida. Call up tha' doctor scientist guy wit' the pink hair. I was serious 'bout offerin' him a job."
"Of course, Sir." Ishida bowed slightly and backed away from the door's threshold before turning to disappear down the hall.
"Welcome back, boys. Yer hunt wen' well?" The Don asked, lowering himself into his office chair and propping his white, dress shoe clad feet up on the desktop.
"As always, Sir" The Handler answered, his voice smooth and confident. Beside him, the silent Hunter nodded slightly in agreement. "The information was successfully extracted and the target eliminated."
"Excellent. And the message was delivered?" The Don crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back as he spoke to his hit men.
Ichigo let a smile, nearly a match to his boss', slide across his features. "Left on his very door step, Sir"
Shirosaki erupted into cackling laughter. "Tha's perfect, well done. Enjoy the rest a yer evenin" He dismissed them with a wave and watched as his number one team exited his office.
All that was left now was to await the other don's reply. Shiro had given the man an ultimatum; merge or be forcefully ousted. The albino was after more territory and the other don, while being on relatively friendly terms with Shiro, was in his way. Don Shirosaki hopped for an agreement, he really did, but he wouldn't be upset if he had to shoot the man and he was prepared for either out come. He had send a list of instructions with the target that was left on the rival's door step. He was to reply with an answer before the week was up, else Shiro would declare their truce over and begin the process of eliminating the obstacle from his path.
"Chado, head to the front gates! I'll meet you there!"
Ashen brows creased and Shiro dropped his feet back to the ground as the Handler he had dismissed only minutes ago burst through the door.
"Sir! There's been a breach at the front gates" Ichigo informed the Don. Guards ran passed the door behind him, headed toward the front entrance of the mansion.
"How many?" Smirk gone from his pale features, the albino climbed to his feet and swiftly followed his Handler. He had yet to have any problems of this sort since he took control, but he wasn't surprised. Someone was bound to think he and his estate an easy target what with him being so young and new to the role of leader. The intruders were in for a surprise.
"Unconfirmed. The alarm was shut off and the guard killed before he could finish radioing in." Ichigo told the albino as they met up with his Hunter at the large double doors that led into the mansion. Door men opened them up for the young Don and his team.
Guards were already scouring the grounds, searching for the intruders. More guards ringed the entrance stairway, insuring the mansion it's self wasn't breached. The captan turned to glance up at the Don as he emerged, he gave a quick nod of acknowledgment before going back to his duties. All was silent as the city slept around them, the only noise to break the peaceful night was a few sirens in the distance, certainly nothing out of the ordinary for a big city.
Shirosaki watched everything proceed for a few minutes, pleased that his henchmen were well organized and doing as they were supposed too. However, as the minutes ticked by and the only sign of the intruders was a single quickly cut off yell from somewhere in the darkened grounds, the Don quickly became impatient. Stuffing his pale hands into the pockets of his equally white slacks, Shiro casually walked down the wide set of stairs and between the ring of guards, his number one team following behind him as he disappeared into the darkened night.
The captan of his mansion guard looked as though he wanted to stop the Don, but wisely kept his mouth shut and settled for following after the man instead, weapon in hand.
The Don walked right up to his towering, wrought iron front gates. Frowning, he noted they were closed and locked still. He walked down the permitter, pausing after making it several meters away from the driveway as his Handler spoke up.
"Sir, there's blood over here." Ichigo studied the red splatter, barely visible in the dark. Orange brows creased as he stood from his crouch. The pattern the substance made on the grass was a bit off, leading him to believe whoever had been injured was attempting to stem the flow. It also looked partially clotted, meaning it hadn't been made with in the last few minutes and had to have been one of the intruder's blood from a wound made before breaking in. What could make an injured man enter the grounds of a powerful mafia family?
As the Don made his way over, Ichigo peered up at the top edge of the piked fence. More of the blood was coating a few of the bars in different places with sticky, smeared hand prints.
"The bastards climbed my fence." Shiro muttered as he turned away from the barrier. He'd have to address that issue after the intruders were caught. At least it must have been difficult to find purchase on smooth metal while one's hands were slicked with blood.
A few guards trooped passed them, the body of one of their own being carried between them. Shirosaki caught a glimpse of a rather nasty looking wound across the dead man's torso and blood stained the lower half of the bodies face.
While Ichigo and Sado were investigating the blood trail and the guard captan had followed after his dead man, the Don made his way in the direction his guards had come. Why the hell was it taking so damn long for his men to do their jobs?
Unamused, the Don sneered in the darkness and rounded the corner of a decorative hedge. He wandered if he would have to kill the intruders himself, and maybe a few of his guards as well. Light from a nearly full moon cast the considerable front yard in deep shadows and the grass shown slightly from a dusting of moisture.
Pausing, he cocked his head slightly and listened when he thought he caught the sound of controlled, quiet panting. The sound stopped nearly as soon as he realized what it was and the albino cautiously and quietly rounded the next piece of landscaping in his line of sight, drawing his gun as he did so.
Faster than he could react, a dark shadow flashed out from behind the shrub he had just passed. A deep, rumbling snarl sounded from directly behind the Don and a large body pressed against his. One big hand grasped around his wrist, holding him from fully pulling his weapon from the waist band of his slacks. Another hand snaked around in front of him to flash a gleaming, blood drenched blade in his vision to silently deliver the threat it imposed.
Panic flashed through the Don's system before he forced it to the back of his mind. He had quite literally walked right passed the man now holding him captive and had not even seen him. He sneered at how easily he had been caught and how good at this game the man seemed. Forcing himself to calm down, Shiro nodded his understanding and the blade was lowered away from his face and pressed lightly against his pale throat.
The Don started to release the weapon his assailant now knew about but the fingers curled around his wrist tightened, forcing him to keep his hand behind his back and the gun still firmly tucked into his pants; a dangerous place for the Don and his attacker both, should it go off between them. Keeping his movements to a minimum and slow, he eased his finger off the trigger. The growling, primal and savage, vibrated through his back where the beast of a man was pressed against him and Shiro froze. He could hear the man forcing his breathing to stay at even intervals, the breaths puffing out his flared nostrils in short pants.
He noted the way the man limped and sagged ever so slightly when he began pulling Shiro backward and into the deeper shadows around the hedges but quickly dismissed it as another sound snagged his attention.
"Sir?" Ichigo's smooth voice rang out in the quiet darkness, a curious tone to it. When he failed to answer the Handler's call, his hit man called for him again, a little louder and with a little more intensity. "Don Shirosaki?"
Shiro hesitated, feeling the man behind him tense slightly at his title. "Over here, Ichi" He called back carefully. He kept his voice quiet and even, so that only his Handler would hear him and hopefully his capture wouldn't freak out on him.
The Don felt the man's arm tighten, the point of his blade pressed a bit tighter against his throat, but he also noticed something else. The man wasn't just out of breath as he had previously assumed, the blood on his fence must have been this man's. The arm wrapped around his throat was coated in it, still warm and sticky and he could guess that the back of his suit jacket would come away stained red as well.
"Why would you run off by..." Ichigo's words died in his throat as he rounded a corner in the elaborately trimmed hedges. At first he could only see his pale boss in the dark shadows, but it quickly became obvious he wasn't alone and the Handler dropped back a step and pulled his gun free in one smooth motion.
The man holding his boss growled and Ichigo would have thought it an animal had he not seen the flash of white teeth next to the Don's face. Blood was smeared across the shoulder and chest of the albino's suit, dark crimson greatly contrasting with the expensive white fabric.
"Shiro, are you injured?" Ichigo asked in a calm, careful voice, titles forgotten as he scrambled his brain for a way to save the young man he had befriended before he had become the Don.
"I'm fine, Ichi. 's not my blood." Shirosaki answered, realizing what his hit man must have been focusing on. The man behind him tensed up as the two spoke, but remained admirably calm and controlled for a man in his position. The hand wrapped around his wrist loosened slightly, further proof of the man's injury and weakening state.
Shirosaki kept his vision trained on the orangette as he thought about what to do next. Having helped train his hit men a series of simple, silent codes, Shirosaki's gold on black eyes widened when he watched Ichigo casually shift his stance. He did his best to remain still, hoping the man behind him wouldn't catch on to what was happening. Ichigo was giving his Hunter commands.
A very slight rustle of the grass and leaves to his left had Shiro diving to the ground as Sado dove at the man holding him. The Hunter's larger body size forced the Don's assailant into releasing his hold and spin to meet the new threat head on. A grunt reached his ears, though from which of the struggling men neither Shiro nor Ichigo knew.
A deep growl erupted from the intruder's throat and Shirosaki drew his own weapon and aimed at the shadowed forms. The injured man was finally dragged to the ground, blood quickly smearing through the grass as he and the Hunter fought each other.
Ichigo finally had enough. The stranger was too good, even injured. His Hunter was being over powered and the man still held his gleamed dagger in hand while Chado was unarmed. Taking aim, the Handler grimaced as he realized he wouldn't be able to safely hit the intruder with a deadly shot. However, he deemed injuring the man may be enough to down him at the moment. He pulled the trigger.
As the shot shattered the silence and echoed through out the grounds, the Hunter fell still. A moment passed and he cautiously climbed to his feet and backed a few steps away from the dangerous, injured man before him.
Guards, attracted by the sound of fighting and the gun shot, swarmed the area. Eyes never leaving the shadowed form on the ground, Shiro simply raised a pale hand in the air and they all paused, giving the intruder a wide enough birth. He watched as the man struggled to get his feet under him, a strangled, furious growl escaping his throat. The strange man managed to get to his feet, chest heaving as he tried to take a step only to nearly fall to the ground once more.
As he stumbled from the deep shadows, the Don was graced with a view of the man's appearances for the first time.
Angular features tensed and scrunched as the man bared perfect white teeth in what was more than likely pain and threat combined. A big hand still clutched at the dangerous blade, but the weapon was held limply at his side. The man wore nothing but torn, faded and stained jeans. Golden skin covering bulging, finely honed muscle was slicked and smeared with dirt and blood, the origin of which was impossible to guess in the dark. However, what stood out the most was the man's intense, unwavering, cyan gaze as it locked onto Shiro's own, dancing with primal rage.
The man's eyes flicked away from the Don, flitting over the armed men surrounding him. Shiro could see the man calculating and thinking before he sneered and finally let his blade fall to stick upright in the ground at his feet, sharp point imbedded in the soft soil. The gesture was one of surrender but the man's vivid cerulean eyes still held a defiant look that intrigued the albino.
The Don tucked his gun back into it's place and glanced down at his ruined suit before glancing back to the intruder. He tilted his head slightly as he studied the man, who seemed to be studying him in return. "Yer the only one, ain't ya?"
The man hesitated before nodding his head once in answer to the question. He did well at hiding a grimace but wrapped a blood smeared arm around his wounded torso as he held gazes with the pale man.
Shirosaki knew it to be an honest answer. So the man was alone, no partners in the area. He had already been injured before he broke in and he was one hell of a fighter. The Don didn't believe he could have been sent after him. In fact, it seemed the man hadn't even known who's estate he was breaking into. The albino took his time in mauling things over before coming to a conclusion. A smirk curled his lips up and he imagined Ishida throwing a fit about him offering a job to an escaped murder.
"Don't suppose ya wan' a job, do ya?"
I am having way too much fun with this story...
Oh well~ Let me know what you think!
