*Somewhere in downtown Karakura*

"I'm sorry sir, but he got help!" the man cowering in front of him said.

"That's still no excuse for losing! Especially to that freak!" the fat man replied angrily.

The fat man was dressed in expensive clothes and wore gold jewelry. The three fearful men in front of him wore normal street clothes; they stood waiting for their punishment.

The fat man paced angrily in front of them, trying to decide on how to punish them. He stopped as an idea grew in his head. He grinned and the three men shifted uncomfortably in front of him. The fat mans face grew serious.

"All right, I'll give you a second chance." The men relaxed, relief written across their faces.

"But" he paused for dramatic effect and was rewarded when they stiffened in fear. "If you don't get him this time the punishment will be twice as harsh."

The men shivered at imagining what would happen if they failed again.

*Karakura apartment complex*

Shiro slowly walk up the stairs to his apartment where he lived with the bitch (what he always called his mother.) The beating he got was really starting to catch up to him, his sides ached from where they had kicked and punched him, and his left ankle protested by shooting pain up his leg with ever other step. He just hoped he hadn't sprained it.

He walked up to his apartment, number six but one of the screws had come loose and the number had flipped upside down to make a number nine. He pushed the door open and walked into the mess that waited.

Dirty clothes, moldy food, and wrappers littered the floor. His mother sat smoking on a stained couch watching TV. She turned to look at him, her face wrinkling up in disgust.

"What happened to you, boy?" she asked, her voice was raspy from smoking heavily for years.

"Got in a fight."

"Better have won then. Oh and stay in your room tonight because I got a guest coming." She turned back to her show and ignored him.

Great, another "guest" I wonder what this one will be addicted to? He thought darkly as he walked down a small hallway to his room. The last "guest" they had been a crack addict.

He walked into his small room. Some how he had kept it relatively clean, just a small pile of dirty clothes next to his half made bed. Next to the bed was a nightstand with a digital alarm clock, some change, and a small, faded picture on it.

He picked up the picture and scowled. The picture was of a man wearing a black suit and sunglasses. Angrily he opened a drawer, shoved the picture inside, and slammed the drawer shut.

He left the room and walked into the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and saw a bright red mark on his cheek. He pulled his shirt of and saw several large, dark red marks on his torso that would inevitable become black and blue bruises. He reached down and pulled up his left pant leg, his ankle was slightly swollen but wasn't as bad as he thought. Opening the medicine cabinet, he took a couple of pills out of half empty a bottle of ibuprofen and swallowed them.

He thought about the men who he had fought. He had feeling that they were Omeada's men.

Walking back into his room he grabbed a slightly cleaner shirt from the pile and pulled it on. It was black with the words "cereal killer" written in letters made of small bones, a skull with spoons crossed underneath it was pictured above the words.

He heard the door open and slam shut. That must be the "guest", oh boy.

Shiro felt his stomach growl hungrily. He tried to remember the last time he ate. Hmm… that morning he had piece of buttered toast, nutritious. He really didn't want to go out there and see what kind of person would date the bitch; personally he still didn't understand why anyone would want to date her.

Finally his hunger won over and he walked out to the kitchen. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes and the paint was starting to peel off the walls. He pulled open the fridge and looked in side to see what little they had. A half eaten sandwich, a pickle jar with two pickles left inside, half a gallon of milk (which was probably spoiled), and a tub of butter.

Nothing like variety is there? He thought sarcastically.

Grabbing the pickles and butter, he walked over to the counter and pulled out a fork and a butter knife. He opened the bag of bread only to find that it was stale.

He fished out the pickles and ate them. Then he buttered two pieces of bread and was just about to walk back to his room when he saw her glaring at him from the couch, some guy sitting next to her.

"What the hell are you doing boy! I thought told you to stay in your room!"

Well someone is PMSing. This day is just getting better and better, isn't it?

"I got hungry, is that a crime?"

She's getting pissed now; her face is starting to turn dark red. "I'll show you what's a crime when I strangle you."

Shiro snorted, "Fine, I'll go back to my room so you two can fuck and then he can pay you for it."

She now turned some kind of purplish red, she stood up and said "You little basterd!"

Before she could come over and try to beat the shit out of him, the man stood up and placed a hand on her shoulder. This was the first time Shiro had gotten a good look at him.

He had a short brownish beard that had crumbs stuck in it and long, greasy hair. A large beer gut strained against his plaid shirt. Shiro guessed he was a trucker.

"I'll take care of it." His voice was deep and gravely.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and walked closer. The closer he got the stronger the smell of stale beer got. His hand came out of his pocket with a pocketknife. He flipped it open.

Shit. Shiro knew he was in no shape for a fight and even if he was there wasn't much of a chance of him winning against a knife with just his hands.

The man got close enough to swing at him. Shiro dodged, the knife flying uncomfortable close to his face. Shiro kicked him in the knee. He swore but didn't go down.

Taking a chance Shiro ran for the door, flinging it open and feeling slightly relieved when it wasn't locked. His relief didn't last long. He heard heavy steps coming from behind him.

Not looking back Shiro ran down the stairs and out of the apartment complex. It had grown dark out.

Running to the street he took a left and ran down to the corner before looking back. The man stood at the entrance to the complex, watching him.

Finally the man yelled, "And don't you come back!" His voice rumbling like thunder. He turned and walked into the complex.

Shiro turned and continued down the block. The street lights started to flicker on. The growing bruises on his sides ached and his ankle burned slightly but the ibuprofen was finally starting to kick in.

Now to figure out where to go. He knew it was just a matter of time before the bitch threw him out, it just surprised him that it took her this long.

While pondering what to do, Shiro heard some one laugh behind him. Turning around he saw about five men coming out of the ally behind him. Two of them were holding pipes.

"What do you want? I don't have money so there's no use robbing me." Shiro said testily, he really wasn't in the mood to be messed with.

"Well that's no good. Omeada won't be happy with us if we didn't get his money back." The man who was probably the leader said. He grinned, "Or maybe we could take you back and you can take our punishment for us."

The men behind him laughed. They started moving forward.

Everyone just wants to kill me today don't they? Shiro turned and started to run, his body screaming in protest. The men shouted as they chased him, like a pack of hounds that are after a rabbit. He ran left at the corner and then immediately turned into an ally. The men went running past, still yelling.

He heard them farther down the street, they started yelling in frustration for not knowing which direction their prey had gone. One of them yelled to split up.

Shiro started running to the other end of the ally before one of them could come down it. Once on the street he looked around figure out where he was. He had no idea. He could still hear Omeada's men yelling but it was starting to fade away.

Shiro started to walk across the street. He looked back at the ally he had come from to see if he was being fallowed. He wasn't.

Idiots.

Suddenly he saw a car come racing around the corner and coming straight at him.