Hello again! I hope you all had a great holiday! So this chapter and the next few are going to be a bit of the back story of Hisana and Byakuya.

So this takes place in the past

"Hisana!"

Hisana's head flew up as she turned around sharply. From the doorway of the shrine another street kid gestured frantically for her to follow him. Glancing back at the shrine she quickly ducked her head and finished praying for the safety of the sister she had abandoned and the rest of her family she had not been able to find. Standing up she walked out of the shrine, past the people praying for money or love or a better life. She made her way to the orphan boy practically twitching in the doorway anxiously waiting for her to come.

"Hanabusa," she smiled at the grimy orphan, "what's wrong?"

"Kuroda said to come get you right away."

Hisana sighed and crossed her arms. Kuroda was a thief she stole with sometimes. she may not have been proud of being a thief but it at least allowed her to exist. It was that or the whorehouse and some thing she could not stomach. She had a good eye for what was valuable and what was not. Not to mention there were advantages to having a reasonably attractive woman on a thief crew. But lately she had been talking to shopkeeper about a job. It would give her the chance to do honest work and maybe that with the money she had been saving would be enough for a place in a better district. Then she could find Rukia and have a place to bring her.

"Hanabusa," she looked at the boy, "you know that I told Kuroda I wouldn't be stealing a lot anymore."

"This isn't stealing though," he looked at her, obviously close to tears, "and if you don't come he'll die."

"Who will die?" she demanded, her stomach dropping, "Hanabusa what happened?"

"I don't know! Kuroda just brought him in. He was bleeding real bad and he said to go and get you and to hurry."

Bleeding? Bleeding badly? Hisana gripped the hem of her robe and tried to fight down her panic. It couldn't be that bad, not really. Kuroda was many things but he wasn't stupid. Still, whoever he hurt was probably scared. If they got more injured or something because of him--or worse, because she wasn't there, well the last thing Hisana needed was another person on her conscience. Looking down at the anxious, dirt covered orphan she nodded her consent and offered a hand. He grabbed onto it and practically dragged her the hideout. Though small and dirty, Hanabusa was barely two years younger than she was, or so she guessed. It was hard to tell ages from people most of whom did not even know their names.

Kuroda's hideout was not far from her own dusty shack. Hisana stepped inside, her eyes taking a moment to adjust from the bight light outside. Hanabusa motioned for her to stay while he hurried into another room. Hisana sighed and looked around the empty main room. It looked deserted but Hisana knew it was just a cover. The door on the far side of the wall opened and Hanabusa stepped out. Hisana squared her shoulders and walked forward. Deciding to be honest was one thing, justifying it to Kuroda was a completely different matter.

"Kuroda, why do you want me here?" she demanded, "I don't know the first thing about people bleeding."

"I know," he said, "but you are the only person I know who will do something to keep him alive."

"Him?" she demanded, "Kuroda what did you do?"

"Kidnapped someone," he said, "for ransom obviously. Unfortunately the bastard put up quite a fight," he rubbed his forearm and Hisana saw it was bandaged, "we got the best of him but it wasn't pretty."

"Fights are never pretty," she said, "what makes you think I'll do anything to keep him alive?"

"Well because the rest of them all want him dead at the moment for various injuries," he sighed, "some men never learned the appeal of battle scars," he shrugged as though it did not matter, "well they want him dead and I know how much you'd hate to have another person on your conscious," he continued as Hisana winced inwardly, "come."

He led her back through the door. The men certainly looked like they were going to kill whoever this injured man was. Various slashes and cuts decorated them as well as the occasional missing finger. Despite herself Hisana was mildly impressed. She counted at least a dozen men and the fact that whoever he was was able to take down some of them was impressive in itself. Impressive and stupid. Hisana sighed. The last thing she needed in her life was another stupid, impulsive man. She glanced at Kuroda who seemed as though he would not mind killing him himself.

"Why don't you just kill him?" she questioned.

"Because I kidnapped him for ransom. Unfortunately despite being Nobility his family is not terribly stupid and they are going to demand some proof he's alive."

"Nobility?" she grabbed his arm, "are you crazy? You kidnapped a Noble Shinigami?" he nodded, "do you want us all to be killed?"

"Would you calm down? He's supposed to be out on some sort of scouting mission followed by a drunken celebration. He's some arrogant noble, he probably gets drunk and goes to whore houses in this place all the time," he stopped in front of the door, "it will be a bit before anyone notices he's gone and even then I need him to be a bit more lively," he pulled out a key and handed it to her.

"I don't know anything about healing," she told him.

"That's the same for all of us," he said, "deal with him before someone kills him and we have a dead Shinigami on our hands."

Hisana glared, wishing she had the ability to kill Kuroda with her eyes. He walked away unscathed. Turning to the lock she opened the door and slipped inside, closing the door behind her. She recognized the room as an old storage room. The boxes had all been pushed to one wall leaving a fairly sizable space. As her eyes adjusted to the darker room she was able to make out the form of a young man, barely a few years older than her. He still bore the awkwardness of youth but it was rapidly fading. Though his back was turned to her she was able to gauge his basic silhouette. If he heard her he was trained enough to not show it. Probably preparing to attack her.

"You're bleeding quite badly," Hisana pointed out, "and there are at least a dozen men outside this room who would like to kill you. Even if you get past me--"

"I would not attack a woman."

Hisana's eyes widened before they narrowed. Though she did not want to be attacked, per se, the fact that he would not because she was a woman, that she found rather offensive. She was practical though and knew it was probably unwise to aggravate the prisoner. Instead she stepped forward. That got a reaction out of him as he stiffened. She turned and walked back to the door, tugging it open. At the ground in front she saw a plain sack. Peering inside she saw a candle for light and rolls of plain linen bandages as well as water for cleaning his cuts. Picking up the sack she slipped back inside and closed the door behind her. He had not moved from where he stood. Hisana stepped forward carefully, as though she was approaching a wild animal.

When she got close enough she bent down and fished out the lantern, lightning it. The light was still dim but it was enough to make him wince slightly at the change. From the waist up he was bare, his bottom half was covered by black hamaka. His back was to her and she could see that his skin was pale. Not sickly pale but pale as though it got little sun. She could see his arms were a shade darker, as though he usually rolled up his sleeves. His hands were hidden in the shadows still. A wide slash decorated his shoulders and she could see another at his side and down either of his arms. His back was still to her but she could see his hair was long enough for him to have it parted and hanging across chest to avoid the cut on his back.

"These don't seem too deep," she said, looking at it, "let me see the ones on your chest," she said stepping around to his front.

His hair was long. It fell past his collar bones onto the planes of his chest and was as blue-black as her own. His features were aristocratic, delicate even if it was not for the determination that shown on every plane of his face. His eyes were grey, framed in dreamer's lashes that would have seemed almost feminine on anyone else. His eyes seemed fixed on some invisible point ahead. She saw so much turmoil in them, as if there was no greater shame than being defeated by a dozen heavily armed thieves. His chest bore a long cut as well but it seemed even more shallow than the others.

"They said you were bleeding very badly," she frowned and looked up at him, "none of these are very deep," she glanced at him, "why--" her eyes widened, "oh my."

In the light of the lantern she could see his hands. They were mangled, or at least, the tops of them were with thick, angry cuts made by the short blades she knew many of the men preferred. It was no wonder he was holding himself so still. She reached forward but realized that jostling his hands would only hurt him more. He seemed to be dangerously close to keeling over but again, it was hard to find a way to sit without jostling his other injuries.

"Here," she said, "let me help you down."

With a fair amount of leaning she eventually got him to sit down, his hands resting on his knees. Hisana set about cleaning and bandaging the cuts on his back, arms and chest. To his credit he did not flinch as she cleaned his cuts as best she could before bandaging them. Carefully she picked up one of his hands, trying to keep her movements as smooth as possible. Much to her surprise his hands were not smooth but rough with callouses. It made sense, he was after all a Shinigami, but even so he looked so noble and rather delicate the callouses seemed to be almost out of place.

"There," she gently placed his hands down, "that should be alright for now," she looked up, "can I get you something to drink or eat?"

"I am alright."

Hisana raised an eyebrow. It seemed that he had a lot of pride. He had obviously been bleeding and in the cell for a while. Even if he would not admit it she knew he needed something. She got to her feet, leaving the lantern on as she navigated her way out of the room. At the door she paused.

"I'll be back in a minuet," she said and slipped out.

In the dim glow of the light he could see the stacks of boxes that decorated the room. He was in some kind of storage place. Much to his disdain he heard his stomach growl. It seemed that the entire world had decided to hate him today. He had been kidnapped. Kidnapped and beaten by a bunch of street thieves. What was his grandfather going to say? What was everyone going to say? The humiliation at being held captive--at the prospect of being ransomed like some kidnapped princess, it was enough to make his injuries seem inconsequential. He had been so desperate to go out on a solo mission, to prove everyone wrong. Unfortunately it seemed all that he had done was proved them right.

"Okay," the door opened and the girl who had bandaged him slipped back inside.

In the light of the lantern he was able to see that under the dirt she could have been quite pretty. Her hair was dark, though it had been lightened by the dust and her skin seemed to only be tanned from the sun, probably it was naturally as pale as his own. Or perhaps it was not the sun but the same dirt that seemed to cover all of her. She came over holding a tray of food along with water and set it down, raising her eyes to meet his.

His heart almost skipped a beat.

Her eyes were breathtaking and jewel like, contrasting the dirt that seemed to cling to every inch of her. He could see violet and blue, the colors all contradicting the sharp intelligence he saw in their depths. Their eyes locked and for one heart stopping moment it seemed that time had ceased to exist. Even if he sat there covered in bandages and filled with shame he could not for the life of him take his eyes off the common girl who knelt in front of him with the tray of food. Under the dirt Hisana felt herself flush and tore her eyes away, focusing as she set the tray down in front of him.

"Here," she said, "I brought you food, water--" she motioned to the tray, "I'll be back soon," she got to her feet.

"Wait--" his voice was unexpectedly hoarse. She stopped, one foot still raised before she quickly turned around, "what is your name?"

"Hisana," she said, resisting the urge to bow. She didn't want him to try and reciprocate and injure himself further, "and yours?" she asked.

"Byakuya," he replied, "Byakuya Kuchiki."

Hisana felt the world lurch. Everyone knew the Kuchiki family, the last of the Four Noble Houses that was in good standing after the Shihon's had been shamed. Of course there were still the Shiba's but these were the Kuchiki's--or, really, this was a Kuchiki. Byakuya Kuchiki, the heir to both House and Captainship if the rumors were true. When Kuroda had said 'Noble' she hadn't dreamed n a million years that it would that noble. No wonder he looked so ashamed at the fact he hadn't won the fight against those men.

"I-I'll be back to check on you soon," she promised quickly heading to the door. She hesitated for a moment, glancing back at him before pushing open the door and walking out of the room.