Yay~ Finally an update!
Enjoy!
Shiro walked down the halls of his large mansion, his white shoes quietly tapping on the polished black and white tile. The few other people wandering the corridors, mostly mansion staff and a few of his underlings, bowed slightly and moved out of his path as he passed by. A few glanced curiously at the rather large package slung under one of the Don's arms, wrapped in black and white striped paper, complete with a rich purple bow and everything. The Don's seemingly excellent mood was reflected in the devilish smirk that creased his unnaturally pale features and the shine in his strange, gold on black eyes. A cigarette was perched at the corner of his ashen lips but he drew in very little of the acrid smoke as he listened to the man walking at his side.
"I don't think I understand. You're really planning to reassign me a new partner?" The Don's prized Handler asked, his voice quiet and polite but the incredulity of the accusation rode on the undercurrents of his tone. As far as he had known, he and his Hunter, Chado, had been doing quite well together. It seemed a bit hasty to suddenly change his team around just because the new guy had killed his first partner. And that was another matter all together...
"A' course I'm serious, Ichi. Yer the best Handler I got and I ain't 'bout ta pass up the man's raw talent. Grimmjow's new ta the business, but he's got experience in killin' an that's what I want 'im ta do. Luppi didn' know how ta handle him. And tha's what I wan' you ta do." Shiro said as if it made perfect sense, and really, it did. It was simple logic. The original Handler appointed to the blue haired killer hadn't been good enough, so he would appoint a better one. Handler's didn't get any better than Ichigo.
He pulled his free hand from the pocket of his perfectly fitted slacks to pluck the cigarette from his lips. In his other hand, he shifted the heavy package he held under his arm, careful not to jostle it around too much or mess up the beautiful wrapping job. Despite the Handler's barely concealed protests, Shiro smirked and looked over at the orange haired man. "Ya scared a 'im? I really thought ya were better'en Luppi"
Predictably, Ichigo's expressive brown eyes flashed with a dangerous gleam before narrowing on the Don. He scoffed at the very notion of the dead Handler being better than he was. He may not have been a vain man, but Ichigo knew when he excelled in something and he readily agreed that he was the best there was at what he did. He had worked hard to prove himself and claim the title of the Don's number one Handler.
"I'm hardly afraid of him, Sir...but..." Ichigo said, ignoring the Don's taunt about Luppi. He recognized it for the bait it was and didn't bother dignifying the jab with a comment.
"Good, then ya shouldn' have any problems." Shiro cut him off before he could further argue. He wasn't about to back down in this and he knew, in the end, Ichigo would understand. Grimmjow was what he needed in a Hunter and after what he had witnessed, Ichigo was the only man he truly believed would be able to handle the wild man. "I know ya like workin' wit Chado, but he's docile 'nough to work wit a different Handler, Grimmjow is not."
Ichigo was quiet a moment while the two continued to walk. He sighed and nodded his understanding, letting the subject drop. The Don was right, like he usually was. Grimmjow's brutality was too perfect to pass up and they had already seen what happened when the man was paired with someone not of the same caliber. Perhaps it would prove enjoyable to work with someone so untamed and unpredictable for a change. "Very well, Sir."
Shiro let his smirk turn into a grin as they neared his destination. He could already hear the muffled growling coming from in the infirmary and realized leaving the doctor to patch up this particular Hunter without supervision was probably not the brightest idea he had ever had.
"Hold this" The albino thrust the package he held into Ichigo's hands, not bothering to wait for a response.
The Handler took the wrapped package, surprise flitting across his features when the object's full weight settled in his arms. It wasn't terribly heavy, but much heavier than he had been expecting, several pounds at least. Ichigo followed the Don into the in-mansion hospital room, very aware of the animalistic growling that rumbled from within. Had he not known better, he would have thought Shiro had bought a dog. Or maybe a really large cat, like a panther or something. He half expected to see the blue haired Hunter, blood dripping from his strong hands, hunched over the pink haired doctor's mangled body. Luckily, that wasn't the case, though it looked as though that's what they would have walked into had they arrived much later.
The doctor stood a few feet away from the Hunter, needle and medical thread in his gloved hands, and glared at the bluenette. His fiery yellow eyes flashed behind silver framed glasses, intelligence and cunning shimmering behind reflective glass. "I do believe I liked you much more when you were unconscious." Szayel spat out petulantly, his tone annoyed and haughty.
Grimmjow tensed, the sneer on his features turning into a baring of his seemingly too sharp teeth as his growl took on a snarling sound. The new Hunter's corded muscles tightened and he looked ready to launch.
"How're things goin'?" The Don asked, raising his lilting voice to draw the two men's attention toward him and away from each other.
"Good evening, Sir" Szayel said, turning toward the Don and completely disregarding the uncooperative bluenette, something that had never been a wise idea, something Shiro's enemies would quickly learn.
"He's not patched up yet?" The Don asked as he looked over the shirtless Hunter. The blood, both his own and from the men he had killed, had been cleaned away but the few wounds he had received had yet to be stitched up. None of them were life threatening or very serious at all, mostly just a few cuts, but hot lead had scored a gash through the muscle of his upper arm that would need cleaned and stitched.
"No, Sir. I've been trying, but he isn't very approachable." Szayel said, waving a dainty hand toward the bluenette.
The Don gave Ichigo a pointed look, to which the Handler set the box in his arms down on a metal tray used to hold medical equipment and neared the blue haired man. "It seems we are to be partners now, which means you let Mr. Granz do his job so we can get to work." He told the man, watching for any signs that his new partner would disagree while he avoided watching the beautiful crimson that slowly trailed from the gash in the man's flawless golden flesh.
Grimmjow's growl slowly faded away and he crossed his muscled arms over his chest as he studied the daring orange haired man. It wasn't everyday someone dared to talk to him like that, or live to do it again. What the Handler had said was meant to be a command. He knew it was supposed to be. But his voice hadn't held that superior tone Luppi had used, nor the better-than-thou tone the doc liked to use. It was the same calm, smooth and confident tone he had used before. And just like in the warehouse, it gave Grimmjow pause. It was a logical request; get fixed up so he could go kill again. He nodded his head once before speaking in a rumbling growl of quick, snapping words. "Get over here and hurry the hell up."
Szayel sniffed lightly but wasn't about to reprimand the dangerous man for how he was speaking to him. He did his job quickly and efficiently and was placing sterile, white bandages over the stitches in no time.
Both Grimmjow and Ichigo watched him closely the whole of the twenty minutes it took him. It was rather unnerving to have two of the most deadly men in all of the family breathing down his neck, not to mention the Don himself standing in the door way behind him. Even as undeniably gorgeous as the bluenette was, Szayel really hoped patching the new Hunter up wouldn't be a constant thing.
"Thank ya, Szazy. Ya can go now, but keep yer phone on an' a line open" The Don let a grin full of mischievous intent that could have meant anything consume snowy features and pulled a wad of folded bills from an inside pocket of his pressed, white suit jacket.
The make-shift doctor bowed slightly while he accepted his payment. "Of course, Sir" Szayel said, turning toward the door and leaving the room. A private car would be awaiting him outside with a driver appointed and owned by the Don himself since Szayel had opted to live off mansion grounds, where he would be able to play around in his own laboratory.
Grin still firmly in place and spread wide across the albino's boyish features, Shiro slowly opened up his jacket and dipped his hand into the inside pocket as he addressed what would quickly become his best and most feared team, the most infamous men in all the city.
"Put on yer finest, boys, we're goin' out" He pulled a slim, elongated navy blue box from his pocket, a silver ribbon tied around it to hold it closed, and tossed it to the Hunter standing up from the gurney.
Grimmjow caught the box easily, never breaking eye contact with the Don. He shifted the box, testing the weight before a slight smile began to creep it's way across his handsome face. By the time he opened the box, his slightly crazed grin was in full force, all white teeth and malicious glee.
Within a half hour, Ichigo was dressed in a slick, black suit. His white button up was pressed and a teal bow tie rested at his throat. Shoulder length, orange locks were tied into a low tail and he rested the heavy, black and white wrapped package on the round kitchen table in his suite. Well, their suite now.
"Wander what's in the box" He said aloud as he waited for the bluenette to finish readying himself, staring at the package the Don had shoved into his hands while they were picking up the new Hunter from Szayel. All he had been told was that they were bringing it with them to the meeting Shiro was to be attending, some business meeting between himself and a few other men from a different family.
"Smelled like something dead" Came Grimmjow's deep voice from the other room, muffled slightly by the thick door.
Ichigo frowned, giving the box an incredulous look before peering back toward the door way to the room the Hunter now occupied. He bent to tentatively sniff at the pretty wrapping paper, feeling like a fool but too curious not to try all the same. The smell of fresh wrapping paper and a flowery perfume assaulted his senses, but a familiar, thick and cloying scent barely hid behind the more pleasant smells. He rose a brow turning his head to look back toward his partner's new room and at the partially closed door, standing and walking away from the table and whatever the package contained, now knowing just what type of meeting Shiro was bringing them to. It was no wonder the Don had chosen to bring his best team along for back up.
"What's taking you so long?" The Handler questioned loudly through the mostly closed door of the Hunter's room as he walked toward the portal, dismissing the package once again. To himself, he mumbled under his breath "You take longer than a girl."
"I do not." The words were accompanied by a shifting of cloth and a quite, annoyed growl.
Ichigo paused, surprise flashing quickly over his features at the Hunter's response. The man must have had incredible hearing. "Then why aren't you dressed? It's not a difficult thing."
The door flew open, bouncing from the door stop along the wall before the knob could plow a hole in the smooth and painted drywall. The muscled bluenette stood in the door way, his teeth bared and clad in nothing but a pair of dark silk boxers with a pattern of slightly darker figures that barely stood out in the lighting.
Ichigo, face a light shade of pink, couldn't be bothered to pull his gaze from the man's waist line. "Are those...paw prints?" He asked, staring at the pattern on the man's underwear before snapping his gaze back to the man's face as the bluenette growled out an answer.
"No." Grimmjow grunted, turning back into his new room and not bothering to close the door. He pulled a black suit jacket from the large, walk in closet and sneered at it before tossing it over his shoulder to land in a heap at the top of a growing pile of various, fitted dress cloths. "I'm not wearing one of those damn suits."
Ichigo smirked as the man turned his back and began digging through his wardrobe again. With the shift in lighting, he was able to clearly see the subtle pattern of the man's boxers, as well as how great he looked in them. The Handler snorted a barely stifled giggle that luckily went unnoticed by the Hunter. Kitty prints.
"You have to. Don Shirosaki demands that we look the part" The top Handler said, edging closer to the bluenette's private room. He stared at the now nearly empty closet with wide eyes.
"No." The Hunter ground out, his voice like smooth stones churned by crashing waves. "They restrict movement. If we're there to guard him, then a suit would only be a hinderance."
Ichigo had to admit to himself, he was mildly impressed by the Hunter's use of logic and semi-intelligent word choice. He had pegged the man for a pretty face and brute strength, but it seemed that maybe a few lights were indeed still burning upstairs.
The orange haired man brushed passed his new partner and entered the closet while he contemplated what the man had said. He was right. A nice, fitted suit didn't affect the way Ichigo fought and killed because he was used to being at a distance with his trusty and effective handgun, an M1911-A1. But the bluenette was up close and personal with his style; an abundance of swift and precise movement, speed and agility.
He flipped through a few more suits, the Don always made sure his teams and men looked as good as he did, pushing them out of his way and sliding them down the bar they hung on. Grimmjow still needed to look presentable, but needed something that allowed a wide range of movement.
A few minutes later, both men strode from their shared suite, looking impressive and formidable. The Hunter was dressed in a pair of dark blue, nearly black jeans, acid washed and faded slightly along the thighs and a black, V-neck long sleeved shirt that clung to his muscled torso and arms. The polished, shinning silver handle of a brand new, beautifully carved butterfly dagger peeked out from the back pocket of the man's jeans as he confidently followed after his new Handler, a pleased smile on his full lips.
The few people they passed glanced their direction, most giving plenty of distance between themselves and the dangerous team. It hadn't taken long for word of Luppi's murder to spread and while the smaller male wasn't all that well liked amongst the mansion staff and other hit men, it still gave them pause when confronted with the blue haired man that had killed him. The ruthless Hunter didn't even bother denying it.
A few, quiet whispers of the man's growing reputation that had the Hunter's sinful grin widening followed the pair out the large, double doors. The Don's personal vehicle awaited them, parked in front of the mansion's circle drive. As they approached, the door was opened, the driver bowing low while he quietly waited for them to enter the car, keeping his eyes trained on the toes of his shoes.
Ichigo handed the wrapped package to the pale man already seated within before sliding into the vehicle and taking his place across from the Don. Shiro settled the object on the leather seat next to him as the new Hunter took a seat next to his Handler. If the smirk that tugged at the corners of the bluenette's lips was anything to go by, the man seemed pleased enough by the switch in partners and Shiro new Ichigo would warm up to the man quickly enough. The Don was pleased to see how comfortable the two already seemed around each other, even if they had yet to notice it. They would get along just fine.
The driver quietly pushed the door closed after the three occupants had made themselves comfortable and returned to his position behind the wheel. The vehicle rumbled to life and eased down the drive, passing through the towering wrought iron gates that closed the mansion's grounds off from the rest of the city, keeping the Don safe from the citizens and the citizens safe from the Don.
Street lamps flickered to life as the sun dipped low in an over cast sky and bathed a crooked district in silent shadow. The streets were uncrowded, only a bare minimum of traffic as the last of the working class citizens made their way home for the evening. The night crew was just beginning to show it's self. A group of kids from one of the local gangs pointed to the luxurious, spotless white vehicle that traversed the streets. They scurried away, ducking down an alleyway and out of sight of the young Don known not to take kindly to the gangs entering his growing territory to do their unwanted dealing and pedaling.
Inside the car, Shirosaki sneered out the window, watching the small time gang as they hid like cowards, hiding in the shadows like insects. Oh how he wished he could squish them under his shoe. They had no code, no sense of honor, crooked or otherwise. "Damn rats." The albino muttered, for that's what they were to him; pests that invaded and fed on what was his.
"Perhaps you need a bigger cat" Grimmjow said as the driver pulled the vehicle into the parking lot of the most expensive restaurant in the entire city, just a few streets down from where the unwanted rodents had scurried and cowered like the vermin they were.
Shiro lifted a single, ashen brow at the bluenette across from him, ignoring that his driver had opened the door for he and his team to exit. The obedient, silent man would stand bowed beside the opened door for as long the Don sat in the car or until he was told otherwise. "Did ya have somethin' in mind?"
The Hunter let his wide, blood thirsty grin answer for him as he stared back at the Don, a feverish gleam to his blue eyes.
Shiro's watery laughter filled the quite space, a devilish grin consuming his pale features. "Make it quick an' meet us inside when yer done. We're a little early anyway."
A delighted rumbling growl left the Hunter's throat as he slipped from the vehicle through the opened door and disappeared out into the night as silent as the predator he was.
"Oh, I like 'im, Ichi" Shiro said as he watched the man seemingly be swallowed by the dark city. Even with bright blue hair he blended and became one with his surroundings as if he were wearing seamless camouflage; a demon of a man that fit right in with a city full of sin. It was no wonder the pathetic police force hadn't been able to catch him. The Don almost felt bad about sending the man after the small time group of kids. Almost.
Ichigo nodded his agreement, hardly catching the double meaning in the Don's lilting, teasing words or the smirk trained in his direction as he slowly climbed from the car, his vision still trained in the direction his Hunter had disappeared. He was already focused and listening for signs that his partner had run into problems, shifted from his casual, everyday persona to business mode. Not even ten minutes later, Ichigo leaning back against the vehicle, Don Shiro still casually sitting inside, a stifled cry was cut short with a tell tale abruptness, made by a voice much too high pitched to the Hunter's gravely tone.
Grimmjow couldn't wipe the grin off his face, his white teeth illuminated in the dark as he slipped into the mouth of the alleyway he had watched the small gang disappear into. The single, dingy light bulb from a street lamp back lit the Hunter, casting his shadow to proceed him into the narrow space. As Grimmjow slowly, confidently strode forward, hands in his pockets, the subtle scuff of rubber soled shoes on pavement announced that he had gained the rats' attention.
A man stepped from the shadows to greet him, a wooden Louisville Slugger swaying menacingly at his side from one hand. Several more men followed their leader, bold with the thought of strength in superior numbers. They failed to notice the grin that had yet to leave the bluenette's face, the grin that would spell their disaster.
"Hey now, what do we have here?" The first man asked rhetorically in a mock tone of friendly curiosity, looking the expensively dressed man up and down. He twirled the bat in his hand for emphasis, lifting it to rest across his shoulder in silent threat.
"Ya got a wallet on ya, buddy?" a second man asked, pulling a small switch blade from his pocket as he tried to decide what the blue haired man had on him that would be worth money.
Grimmjow's grin only grew wider. How typical. These rodents hadn't even realized they were in the presence of a bigger and badder predator, a killer. "Nah. The only thing of any real value on me is this" The Hunter said in a calm, even voice. He reached behind his back and wrapped long fingers around the handle of his perfect new toy, watching the way the men before him studied his movements as if afraid he would pull a gun. They should be afraid, but not of a gun. They should be afraid of him.
The Don really had taste and Grimmjow had wasted no time in learning how to flip the butterfly knife open with ease and grace. The Hunter eased the knife out of his back pocket, the polished chrome of the handle glinting even in the yellowed and feeble street lighting. He held it up, the blade still folded within the artfully crafted handle, for the men to see before he took another step forward.
"This guy's just askin' for it" One of the men laughed, all of them obviously still seeing easy prey. They would soon learn just how wrong they were.
In a swift, fluid motion the blade was twirled free of it's split, hollow handle, nearly doubling the length of the weapon. He would teach them their error, make them understand the difference between predator and prey.
The Hunter rushed forward, his movements fluid and smooth, swift and flawless. He easily ducked the swinging bat, a deep rumbling laugh singing through the alley. His subtly curved blade sank deep into the left side of bat wielder's abdomen, slicing through flesh and sinking between ribs. As the man's lung deflated and Grimmjow's blade drank on it's first kill, the kid crumpled to the dirty ground where he would die and be found with the next dawn.
The Don had told him to quick. Grimmjow spun toward his next victim as he rose from his ducking crouch, the hollow sound of a falling bat echoing from the surrounding walls. The man with the switch blade screamed in fear, anger, retribution, but it was short lived. The Hunter's crimson stained blade stole his breath away in a deadly kiss, leaving his throat opened wide.
Grimmjow could deliver his message quickly, he could be a swift teacher. The third and fourth members rushed him head long, thinking to overwhelm the strange, blue haired killer in their midst while a fifth hung back and looked ready to wet himself. A big fist collided with the chest of one while the other dove onto the Hunter. Grimmjow snarled, a more animalistic sound than human, but the deranged smile on his face had yet to waver. He reversed the grip on his dagger with a flick of his fingers and drug the cruel blade down the arm trying to wrap around his thick neck.
Blood warmed steel sliced through muscle and tendon, the tip dragging against bone. The man screamed as his hand went limp and the severed muscles that controlled the movements of his fingers whipped and rolled up into his arm, no longer anchored in place. Grimmjow spun about and dropped to his knees, sinking his blade into the injured and screaming man's chest, abruptly ending his pained cries.
The surviving members of the small, local gang spun on their heels and fled. Two men survived the encounter with the young Don's formidable Hunter, the only two that could learn the bluenette's teachings fast enough. Shiro had told him to be quick and meet them back inside the restaurant. Grimmjow grinned at the retreating forms as he cleaned his hands and blade off on the jacket of the dead man at his feet.
He didn't bother shouting a warning to them, didn't bother telling them that he was one of Don Shirosaki's hit men. They would learn soon enough who he was, what he was. They would quickly learn that Don Shiro was not to be fucked with. Grimmjow sprang to his feet and quickly left the scene of his play ground, crossing the street as a light drizzle began seeping from the over cast sky. The morning news would simply relay more gang violence to the day time citizens of the city, there was no need for clean up.
The Don's car had been pulled away from the entrance, parked somewhere hidden from immediate view. Grimmjow tucked his cleaned knife away into the back pocket of his jeans and pushed the rotating glass doors open. He was immediately immersed in the typical, hushed sounds of a fancy, fine dining establishment. Gentle, quiet music floated just below the din of the casual conversation and the quiet roar of voices. The lights were turned down low, most of the tables were lit by candle, the aisles illuminated in the soft glow of shaded ceiling fixtures on long chains.
A waiter dressed in a black tuxedo flitted over to the bluenette and bowed slightly to his guest. "You must be the remaining member of Mr. Ogichi's party. Right this way, sir."
Grimmjow stuck his hands into the front pockets of his dark jeans to hide the blood still staining around the edges of and under his nails as he followed the man, a handsome smirk plastered to his features. He was led to the far end of the establishment, a quiet corner that had been raised a few steps above the main floor and sectioned off with a low wall.
A few men sat comfortably around the table, dressed in expensive, tailored suits and a dress in the case of a woman. Shiro sat facing the entrance to the private area, his back to a wall, something he did intentionally nearly everywhere he went that wasn't his own mansion. His customary smirk rested on his pale lips as his haunting gold on black eyes followed the predatory movements of his Hunter. He already recognized this man would be his top hit man, alongside Ichigo. They would be unstoppable.
The Handler also looked at his partner, his appraising gaze moving from toe to head as Ichigo searched for any signs that Grimmjow had been injured during his excursion. Mere play was all it had been, the truth of that shone in the man's all too blue eyes. Warm sepia locked with the sated and pleased, if not slightly crazed, cyan of a man who had just finished a round of satisfactory sex, almost ready for round two. Ichigo was hardly able to suppress the shiver that worked up his spine at the sheer ecstasy he found in the man's bright gaze. No sane human should get that turned on over taking the life of another, over spilling blood and drinking in the heady scent of the copper flavored fluids, feeling it coat and drip from long fingered, skilled hands. The Handler broke eye contact with his Hunter, glancing back at the Don as the man's lilting voice broke into his thoughts and did his best to ignore the disturbing stirring in his slacks.
"I'm impressed, tha' was pretty quick!" Shiro said, a wide smile on his face as he gestured the bluenette toward them.
The few people sitting across from the young Don, their backs to Grimmjow, turned to peer over their shoulders at the newcomer. The blue haired Hunter smirked, not feeling the slightest bit out of place amongst these powerful men and women. The blood on his hands, both figuratively and literally, helped him to fit right in, even if his background was a bit less cultured.
"You asked for speed, Sir" Grimmjow replied, rounding the table to take a seat at the Don's left. He could feel the eyes of the Don's guest's following his figure and he basked in the silent attention of other predatory people, of other murderers. He had quite literally stumbled into a perfect world, an under world that matched his insatiable needs.
"That I did, well done" Shiro smirked, watching the other don's reaction as she studied the Hunter. "How was yer new toy?"
Grimmjow practically purred with a crazed glee. His answer must have shown on his handsome face for the Don laughed, his lilting tone caressing the space to mingle with the subtle music. "Well then, Miss Kuchiki, shall we get ta business?"
"Of course, Mr. Ogichi" A petite, dark haired woman said from where she sat directly across from the Don. Her dark eyes glittered with a cunning intelligence as they briefly flitted over the two hit men at the albino's sides before settling back on the Don himself.
"Please, call me Shiro." The Don said, taking a sip from a glass of wine that had been set before him. He didn't bother introducing his team, it was expected for a man in his position to bring some sort of guard with him. The young woman did the same, leaving her entourage nameless as they sat quietly around her.
"Very well, Shiro. Firstly, my brother regrets that he was unable to attend this meeting personally and hopes that it will not reflect poorly on him or his want to enter business with you."
Shiro, his smirk still firmly in place, spoke up. "I've already been informed a the circumstances. There's no need fer worry" The young Don motioned toward Ichigo at his right and the Handler bent to retrieve the wrapped package from where he had sat it on the floor beside his chair to place it on the table between the Don and Miss Kuchiki.
The young woman looked confused for a moment, but did well in her recovery, her cool facade back nearly instantly as she looked at the gift sitting upon the table. Well aware of the very public place they were in, she kept her features mostly neutral, only allowing a very slight smile to grace her lips if anything at all. Not her family nor the young Don in front of her wanted any extra attention from the outside world, the world of the day. Meeting at this restaurant was more for the sake of appearances, especially for Don Shirosaki. His name was rising with an unnatural haste that was even showing in the city's day life, it would be good for his family to let the citizens put a face to his name.
"I was unaware we were supposed to be exchanging such formalities." The young woman finally settled for saying, not reaching out for the package that had obviously been pushed toward her.
Shiro chuckled, his watery voice sounding more like a distorted giggle. "We weren't, my dear. This is fer yer brother. He'll know wha' it means."
"Yes, of course, sir. Pardon my intrusion, but I cannot take this to don Byakuya without knowing what it is..." She shook her head slightly while her voice trailed off.
"Oh tha's no problem." Shiro smiled at her, his smirk growing to a somewhat sinister grin. "Please, be my guest, the top lifts off wit' out unwrappin it."
The younger Kuchiki sibling glanced to one of the men at her side, nodding for him to retrieve and open the package for her. He did as he was silently commanded, keeping his eyes trained on his boss and away from the private gift that was none of his business.
Rukia glanced down into the reasonably sized box, shifting a bit of tissue paper around until she caught sight of what was in the package. She gasped slightly, one hand raised to hover over her lips as she stared down at the object. A severed head stared back at her, the flesh pale in death, mouth gaping and once brown eyes clouded over and foggy. Spiced and scented potpourri had been scattered across the bottom of the box, covering the pungent scent of decay and death. The young woman trained her large, dark eyes back at the pale man sitting across from her while the lid to the box was replaced.
"Is this meant to be a threat, Mr. Ogichi?" Her voice was controlled and spoke of anger.
"Not at all, Miss Kuchiki." Shiro smirked at her, not at all fazed by what she had just seen, by what was sitting on the table between them. "It's a gift. Don Byakuya will understand, he too had some...issues wit' that nuisance. Jus' tell him it's ta show my willin' ness to cooperate wit' yer family"
"Very well, I shall" The young woman said, taking a sip from her own drink. She watched as the orange haired man at the albino's right leaned over to whisper something to the odd Don. She frowned in the sudden silence, the music of the restaurant seeming much louder than it had only moments ago.
Pale brows pulled together into a scowl, the smirk that had seemed a permeant feature of the Don falling to a straight line. Liquid gold slid toward the left, glancing at the blue haired man on that side of him. Shiro noted the Hunter's rigid posture, his muscles tense and his eyes locked on something at the other end of the establishment. He followed the Hunter's gaze, his eyes instantly landing on what didn't belong.
A small group had filtered into the restaurant, hoods pulled up to hide their features. Their jeans were dirty and smeared, their shoes old and scuffed. They had gained the attention of almost every patron within the building, their ragged clothing and the gait with which they walked making them stand out amongst the high society crowd.
Scowl turned into sneer as Shirosaki nodded in answer to his Handler. The orange haired man stood from his seat, straightening his tailored suit jacket before casually rounding the table, calling out the name of his Hunter as he went.
"Grimmjow" The bluenette let a slight smile creep across his lips and hopped from his seat, glancing down at the Don for a moment before swiftly following after his partner. The two quickly exited the private area that had been reserved for the Don and his guests and filtered out into the lower level, quickly disappearing to those not knowing who they were or what to look for.
Miss Kuchiki started to turn in her seat, intent on figuring out what was going on.
"Please, do stay here, Miss." Shiro said calmly, gaining the young woman's attention. Byakuya would never agree on a partnering if something were to happen to his younger sister, after all. His men could handle whatever was about to happen.
Shiro watched as his top Handler grabbed hold of the new Hunter's sleeve, noticing that the bigger man didn't tense up under the unexpected contact, rather halting and letting the Handler proceed him. Ichigo stood calmly before the intruders, obviously gang members looking for revenge on the odd man that had so easily taken down their brothers.
The albino Don sighed in exasperation. Well, at least he would be rid of a few more pests. Words were being exchanged, the gang member's loud and abrasive in the calm atmosphere while Ichigo's stayed at a level too quiet for anyone but the man to whom he spoke to hear.
Shiro turned back to the young woman at his table as the Hunter and Handler nearly forcefully escorted the disruptive rodents from the fine establishment, much to the gratitude of the patrons and the staff.
"What is that all about?" Rukia asked, looking at the strange man before her. He seemed so comfortable and confident sitting across from a high standing family member and her enforcers while he was without his team and seemingly unarmed. Even under friendly terms as they were, the situation could have still been dangerous for the Don.
"My Hunter, the blue haired one, ran inta a little trouble wit' a gang tryin' ta infiltrate my territory before he met up wit' us here." He said off handedly by way of explanation, flagging down their personal waiter. A man clad in a black tux hurried over, bending low to be on the same level as the powerful man he was serving this night, his hands clasped behind his back.
Shiro tucked a few bills into the man's pocket, probably doubling what he had made that day, and whispered something into his ear, a suggestive smirk tugging at his pale lips as they brushed just a bit to closely to the man's skin.
Rukia flushed almost as red as the waiter did. The young man straightened, stuttering to find an answer to whatever had been said while he looked down at the albino with wide eyes.
The Don chuckled in his watery voice, the sound somehow flattering and slightly wild at the same time. "How 'bout ya jus' make sure we're well taken care of an' left alone an' ya can think on it, ne?"
"O..Of course, sir. Thank you." The man bowed slightly before turning to scurry away, his face burning in shock and embarrassment.
Shouts from outside shattered the quiet atmosphere of the restaurant, pulling curious murmurs from the patrons and staff. The pale Don's unnatural scowl was back in place as he listened. The people closest to the front of the building gasped in shock as a single gun shot echoed down the street, quickly followed by the squeal of tires sliding on wet pavement.
Don Shirosaki climbed to his feet, his strange eyes trained on the front revolving doors as he curled his lip in a not so silent sneer. He vaguely registered the slightly nervous look the young Kuchiki woman was casting in his direction as he brushed passed her, headed for the exit. That had not been a gun owned by his Handler.
Oh Shiro, you little flirt, you~ XD
Anyway~ Let me know what you think!
ALSO, I shall be doing a Q&A! I've gotten some really good questions so far, but I'm still willing to answer more!
So ask away, everyone! It can be any random question you can think of; about this story, about one of my others, things pertaining to my writing, things not pertaining to my writing, whatever you would like know!
I will post the questions with the answers in a seprate file later on!
