Insert usual disclaimer here.
My version of how Ichimaru got to where he is today. Comments and suggestions welcomed.
Chapter 1: Hungry
The seven year old with silver hair waited behind the bushes. In his sight was a fox and the animal was finding the dead rabbit left outside quite tasty. A couple of minutes ago, the birds were still chirping. Now the silence was deafening. And the little boy, with the silver hair, closed eyes and plastered smile could not be more intense. But the face revealed nothing.
The little boy was a duck; he's calm on the surface but paddling like crazy underneath. See, he's had his eyes set on this fox for quite some time now. Why does a little boy of no more than seven need to go out and hunt on his own? He is in Rukongai meaning he is quite dead. Souls are among many possibilities when in Rukongai; they could be scared, they could be relieved, they could be lost, they could try and do what they can to feel alive because death is foreign and unknowable. But hungry? That's never the case.
Well, rarely. Hunger is for those with reiatsu and spiritual potential. Under the right circumstances, someone with reiatsu will go on to be a death god. Right now the little boy just want the right circumstances for lunch. The odds are double or nothing. It took him forever to catch the rabbit, if his weapon misses his mark, he'll lose the rabbit. If it hits home, he'll have food for a couple of days if he rations it.
His weapon of choice was a rope dart. He was too small and weak to use a knife effectively. He could throw it, but that means he'll be weaponless. The rope solves the problem of being too close beaten down, and the rope gets him his weapon back. The other bonus of the rope is it is silent as it strikes, very much like the snake, his favorite animal.
-Crunch!-
The weapon skewered the fox's hind leg as it went for the seemingly free lunch. The animal yelped in fear, pain or frustrations, but nothing could save the fox from being lunch for this little boy. He yanked the chain and the weapon dragged the soon-to-be-dead fox with it. Messy, but a victory is a victory. The little boy with the silver hair got his meal, but unfortunately the sound of the trap attracted two predators of a different sort. Even in the afterlife, the share of scum and garbage that will rough up someone different and seemingly weaker, is in no short supply.
"If it isn't the freak!"
"Whaddaya got there, foxface? Turned to eating your brother, devil?"
Two boys, in a couple of years, will be two hardened thugs flanked the silver haired boy. One was holding a pitchfork, the other just holding club that looks like a primitive baseball bat.
"Freak? No' I'm no ya teacha o' nothin but that's not nice."
"I'll show what's nice, when I run your scrawny ass through with my pitchfork!" And Pitchfork charged. The silver haired child jerked his weapon to one side, freeing it from the impaled fox. With a twist the opposite way, he sent the roped blade flying back to his hand. Unfortunately, Pitchfork was in the way and the knife's handle struck the back of Pitchfork's head. A third yank of his arm and he's holding the weapon, ready to strike again as fit. All this was done in five seconds.
"What the hell did you do, foxface!?" yelled Pitchfork. He dropped his weapon and clutched the back of his head. His hand came back red.
"I co' sho ya 'gain if y'want." The silver haired child snapped his arm to Blunt Club. The blade pierced his throat cleaned through. "Skewer the punk, shinsou." said the silver haired child quietly. And the grin widened. Blunt Club tried to gurgle something, probably a curse or a plea for mercy. It mattered not.
"Y-yo-you're not natural!" Pitchfork turned tail and ran like a horde of demons were behind him.
"I'm not. And tha name's Gin Ichimaru." said the kid with the silver hair.