"Today, give a stranger one of your smiles. It might be the only sunshine they see all day." P.S. I Love You, H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

"A smile is a curve that sets everything straight." Phillis Diller

Don't own any Bleach.

Today, I found a pretty girl.

From afar, she looked like a dead animal on the road. At first, I had wanted to kick aside the pathetic creature and continue on my way, but as each step took me closer, the bitterness slowly faded into something along the lines of kindness.

She lay on the ground, her back curved into a tiny ball. If her face and her arms had not been so badly bloodied, I would have thought her to be asleep. The girl clutched her fingers into her palm, as if she was squeezing something in her palm, and her mouth was barely open. Was she dreaming? Her lips were puffy, and a trickle of what I prayed was not blood dribbled onto her tiny, pointy chin. She was pretty- prettier than most girls I had seen before, that is.

I shook my head. What's wrong with me? Here was a girl lying on the ground, half-dead, and I all I had to offer was that she was pretty...?

Her kimono was practically in shreds, patched up and sewn together so many times that I couldn't tell anymore what the tailor that had designed it had in mind. Her feet were barefoot, about as callused as her tiny hands were, and her toes were scrunched into tiny sausage-like grips. On her right arm, there was a large gash, it was beginning to look infected.

Something was tugging at my chest. I wondered if it was my asthma acting up again.

The most intriguing thing about the girl was how peaceful she looked while laying helplessly on the dusty dirt road. Her hair was the same color as the dry sand, and I couldn't tell where her short, shiny hair ended and began the arid, dry road. Her hair was beautiful, and I bent down to touch it.

Just to touch it and feel how soft each strand was- I brushed her soft hair from her face. It felt like... nothing. Either her breathing had become stronger, or it was just my paranoia. I looked at the girl's face again, and was shocked to see two sky blue eyes blinking back at me.

I jumped.

The girl pointed to her mouth, then to her stomach, but I took no action at all.

She's pretty.

I dug around in my large haori to search for those dried persimmons that I had stolen from the grumpy shop-keeper earlier this week. They were wrapped up in a small cloth, probably torn from my pants', and I tried not to feel abashed when I handed the pretty girl this meager offering.

She was most intriguing.

Just moments ago, I had almost scoffed at this pathetic creature lying on the ground and now I watched helplessly as she gobbled down all of my food stash that I was planning on eating today for dinner. But, I felt no regret when I saw my dinner disappear the into the girl's mouth. The smile that she gave me when she finished made it worth all of the trouble.

"Gin. Ichimaru Gin."

I giggled. The name rolled off the tongue like water, and it was a funny name. I repeated it aloud a couple of times, watching as the boy's face turned from a pale white to a radiant red. "I like it. It's a funny name."

His face dropped the slightest, and I tried to lighten the moment again by telling him my name. He made no comment about my name- it was ordinary, and rather bland. On the contrary, Gin Ichimaru was a very original name- fun to say, if I must repeat myself.

He gave me a few dried mushrooms. On a normal day, I would have stuck out my tongue and run away. Today, dried mushrooms were absurdly delicious. I thanked him, with my mouth full, and frowned when I realized that I had done so. "Sorry."

He said it was fine, stood up, offered me a hand, which I happily grabbed. His hand was cold, yet warm- a strange feeling, a strange combination of lonliness and care. But it was inviting, and I felt comfortable, with him lightly squeezing my hand with his pale white fingers.

I asked him where we were going.

"Home."

Home? I wondered where that was. I had never had one, never wanted to have one before, either. Home was for the pretty little girls in the Rukongai, the beautiful girls with pretty hair, who could afford nice, new kimonos every month and had mommies and daddies that they could run home and hug whenever they wanted to. And as I would watch my two friends, Miya and Oe, run home after a tiring day, I would scoff when they ran into their "parents'" arms. After watching that, I could scuffle at the dirt and walk back to my place, a cozy, little shelter I had built with brother years ago. And brother was gone now.

I suppose you could say that the bitterness that would fill my insides whenever I was alone was jealousy. I don't blame myself for this envy however. It is almost inevitable to want and long for a regular life, with people that care, not only for themselves, but about you, too. And I had never felt this warmth that everyone else I knew did.

I had never felt the warmth of being stuffed to the brim with warm, yummy food, either. And I had never felt the warmth of cuddling with siblings near the fire during the winter. I had never felt warmth from a mother's hug, or a father's piggy-back ride.

The only warmth I had ever felt was when I snuggled underneath my straw blanket during the winters, kept watch over my small burning flame, and rubbed my hands together to keep myself from freezing.

So this was home.

I looked around inside the dry little cave. There was only one pile of straw- a bed- and a collection of dried foods. I was reminded of my brother and I's shelter and blocked the flowing memories back. The ground was dry, clean, with bits of leaves fluttering about here and there. On the wall, he had hung his haori from a tiny outcropping rock above his bed. The entrance was cleverly disguised behind a wall of hanging vines and leaves, and there was a small bowl, with a chip on it's side, where Gin had lit a tiny branch for light. There were bowls and cups and utensils, no doubtedly acquired the same way that I had used to steal stuff, and they were stacked neatly in the corner underneath a dull knife.

Disappointed, I noted that there was no space for another person to live.

Gin shuffled his feet and plopped down onto his bed. "Rangiku-chan.

"You can stay here if you want."

This came as a shock. And for a moment, I stood at the entrance, half bent over, gaping at him like a squirrel struck by an acorn.

I couldn't tell whether or not he was acting truthfully. Whether or not he actually minded if I stayed. I wanted to see what he was thinking. I wanted to know what he was thinking behind that smiling mask that had been plastered on his face since I had gotten to know him. And I had this strange hunch that if I could just see his eyes, even for the smallest fraction of a second, I would be able to understand him. Just for a little second.

I thanked him, and walked outside.

"I'm gonna go collect some stuff for my bed," I called after myself before I ran off to the thick growth of trees.

I wondered if his eyes were black. If they were green, or a pretty shade of blue. Not like my eyes' blue, which were an ugly, cloudy blue, but a warm, sky blue. Or perhaps they were multicolored. I chuckled at the thought of purple and yellow striped eye color.

I also wondered about his history. Where he had come from, who he had used to live with, what things he liked- favorite color, animal, food... Why he was living all alone.

I wondered why I was so curious, why I wanted to know so much about this Gin Ichimaru. Also, why he smiled so much.

His smile was rather discouraging, as if he always knew something that I didn't. It wasn't creepy, in a negative sense of the word, it was intriguing. As if he had something that I didn't- as if he knew that I wanted to know more, and he would keep toying with me until I actually asked outright. It was rather off-putting and annoying, but I can deal with it, I thought. I can deal with it because I want to. And I felt satisfied, satisfied for the first time in a long while.

My hands were no longer cold- thought they may be bloody and dirty, they felt much cleaner than they did when they were cold. Who knew that heat could feel so clean?

I wondered what kind of warmth I was feeling was. Was it the warmth that Miya felt when her mother kissed her on her small forehead, or was it the warmth that came on New Year's dinner parties, where everyone stuffed their cheeks to the point of popping, or was it the warmth that came with the fluffy feeling of knowing that there would be a place to sleep tomorrow, a place to go tomorrow, and things to see tomorrow... or was it a different warmth? A different warmth that I had never thought of before?

The heat was addicting. I would give anything just to stay a little closer to the kindling fire... wherever that was.

I could do anything, to stay a little longer, before I had to go back to my little world alone. I would hand over all of my things, even give up that necklace my brother had given me years ago before he left. And though that may not be much, it's all I have to offer. I would offer anything, anything, to stay near the warmth a little longer- just to stay where I was. I would give anything to freeze time, just where I was right now, with my heart beating and my mind racing, just because this Gin Ichimaru found me today.

I could, and would, do anything.

I could even get used to his curious grin.

I just thought it was funny that I wrote this when my fingers were freezing.

Thank you wt183, Aurora Marija, and pers3as for reviewing! I decided to change this from a one-shot to a multi-chaptered story (hopefully a good and long one, too).

Now, if anybody who has been with the FF community and knows what they're doing would like to help me out with this Beta-ing stuff, I'd be so so sos osososososos thankful. There's been a lot of typos and such in my writing, and it bothers me as much as it bothers you. So, please shoot me an email or get me a note, or something, telling me how to use this great resource.

Please review!

Thanks