I don't know if people realized it, but Jyuushiro, Toushiro's older brother, is supposed to be Ukitake Jyuushiro, 13th squad captain. I don't think I wrote him very well, but there you go. Just thought I'd mention it :P I thought about making the twins Kiyone and Sentaro, but they bicker so much and that wasn't the image I wanted of his siblings, so they ended up being OCs. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Shiro awoke, bolted upright, and immediately cried out. His back felt like it was on fire.

"What are you doing? Lie back down. You can't move so suddenly with wounds like that!" Shiro responded obediently, in too much pain to do much of anything else. He turned his head to look at the speaker, and saw that she was a spectacular beauty, with elegant, graceful features, full lips, and an incredibly gentle smile that contrasted horribly with the pained look in her crystal blue eyes. She was dressed in a flattering jade green kimono that faded into yellow the closer it got to the floor and her strawberry blond hair was pulled back in a complicated swirl of braids and jewel encrusted hair pins. She had a bowl beside her filled with a dark red liquid. As she dipped a cloth in the bowl and wrung it out, Shiro realized with horror that the red color was caused by his own blood, diluted by whatever concoction had been in the bowl originally. He winced as she placed the towel over his raw back.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I know the medicine stings a bit, but you have to deal with it. It will help it heal better." Shiro allowed her to continue to wash his wounds and it soothed his pain ever so slightly. As she began to wrap clean cloth bandages around him, he found that he felt strong enough to speak.

"Who are you?"

"A friend," the woman stated sincerely. "Friends are difficult to come by in this world of violence and thievery, and a friend you can trust is worth its weight in gold. You may not believe me right away, and I don't blame you, but never forget that I am, and always will be, your friend."

"What's that supposed to mean? Who are you? Where am I?" The woman sighed sadly and she gave him a look of pure pity.

"This is the Las Noches Tea House. But that's just its official title. The reason you are here is because it is the unofficial headquarters of the Shinigami. They are a band of cutthroat thieves who take immense pleasure in raiding unarmed villages to burn, pillage, and murder simply for their own amusement. I assume you're familiar with them." An unwelcome memory of screams and fire and betrayal flooded Shiro's system, and he brutally fought to ignore it. He nodded.

"My name is Matsumoto Rangiku," the woman continued. "I'm the head geisha of Los Noches and the Shinigami's leader, Aizen-sama is my danna. It is therefore my fate to play mistress and host to the Shinigami. I care for wounds and provide shelter, food, and entertainment. New members join fairly frequently, but it's been a long time since they've brought a child."

"It's not like I had a choice in the matter," Shiro grumbled. No matter how much he tried to suppress his memories of the previous evening, now that he was awake and alert, they came rushing back to him, and he felt like he was being whipped all over again. He had had a vague hope that it had all been a horrific nightmare, but the pain in his back was too overwhelming to be imagined. His father had betrayed him. Sold him to this pack of murderers without a second thought or a single hesitation. And his siblings had agreed. There hadn't been an ounce of protest from any of them at their father's suggestion. They were just as guilty. An ache opened up in his chest, a wound so painful he practically forgot about his tattered back. He was alone. Utterly and totally alone. Abandoned by those he had loved and respected and trusted. His family had meant everything to him. Well he would never make that mistake again. To hell with love. To hell with people. People couldn't be trusted.

"What's your name?" Matsumoto's voice broke into his thoughts. He opened his mouth to answer, but changed his mind before the words were out.

"I don't have one," was his reply. Matsumoto giggled, but she wasn't making fun of him. It was pleasant and genial, just like Momo's had been. Shiro bit his tongue to keep from crying.

"Everyone has a name," Matsumoto said tenderly. Shiro shook his head.

"I don't. I'm alone. People with no home and no family don't need names." Matsumoto gave him a terse look.

"You have me," she said sincerely, looking him directly in the eye. "I can be your family now."

"Like I can trust a woman who harbors idiots like the Shinigami." Matsumoto looked like he had just punched her, but she didn't reply. Just then, a door behind them slid open. A man with silver hair, razor sharp chin, and eyes that would be more fitting on a boa constrictor than a human appeared.

"Oiya, Rangiku, can our new toy walk yet?"

"You shouldn't have been so hard on him Gin," Matsumoto reprimanded softly. "He's only a child."

"All the more reason. Kid's have a nasty habit of runnin' away if they're not disciplined properly. Gotta put 'em in their place right from the start. Anyway, he better be able ta' walk, 'cause Aizen-sama's callin' for 'em."

"He's in no condition to…"

"I'm fine," Shiro cut in, pulling himself upright and getting to his feet, trying with everything he had not to wince at his burning and throbbing back. Matsumoto looked like she wanted to protest, but she held her tongue. Gin's mouth broke into a smarmy smile so wide it seemed to split his face clean in half.

"Looks like they picked us a good one this time." He beckoned for Shiro to follow, which he did silently, leaving Matsumoto behind. Gin led him down a grand hallway lined with detailed paintings of mountain landscapes and flowerpots containing fresh, fragrant flowers. To the uninformed eye, it looked like any standard tea house, and although Shiro had never been in one before, he had heard stories from travelers who wandered into their village from time to time. The memory made him think once again of his family, and he forcefully repressed the image of their faces which rose unbidden to his mind.

"Before ya' go in there, ya' gotta' know somethin'," Gin said. "Aizen-sama may seem like a nice enough guy, and he sure as hell is to them who are loyal to 'em, but one wrong move and that beating I gave ya' last night is gonna seem like a pleasant sponge bath. So don't you go forgettin' your place." They stopped in front of a door. The sound of men laughing and sake glasses clinking could be heard through the thin shoji. Gin slid the door open to reveal a dozen or so men covered in varying degrees of blood and filth. The stench of sweat, blood, and cheap sake attacked Shiro's nose, but he held his head up high and did his best to control his gag reflex.

The noise died down as they entered and Gin roughly shoved Shiro into the room, completely disregarding his injuries. Every eye in the room bore down on him, but Shiro stood firm. He would not give these men the satisfaction of appearing weak.

"Interesting find," one man noted, and Shiro knew immediately that he was this "Aizen-sama," everyone kept talking about. Unlike the rest of the men, he didn't have a single drop of blood on his clothes, which were of a finer quality and better state of repair than everyone else's. Appearance aside, there was something astounding about the man. He gave off an aura of authority and power that would have been downright awesome if it wasn't tainted with bloodlust. He considered Shiro with the care one would give a newly forged sword.

"Are you afraid?" Aizen asked in a voice that was entirely too friendly for the situation. Shiro forced his shoulders to remain solid.

"No." Aizen's smile widened.

"Do you have a name?"

"I do not," Shiro replied as confidently as he could. "I have no name, no family, and no home." Aizen seemed incredibly pleased with this answer.

"Interesting. I like your attitude. Almost like a little-taicho." The rest of the men laughed. Aizen let them finish before continuing.

"Well then, taicho-chan, perhaps I can give you what you lack. You see, we the Shinigami are somewhat of a family, and we could use a strong, brave man like yourself to join us. Do you think you could do us that honor?" Shiro was under no delusions that this man was the most twisted, horrific, cruel human being he had ever had the misfortune of laying eyes upon. He knew that by joining the Shinigami, he would be forced to do unspeakable things. That the pain in his back at the moment would be nothing compared to the beatings he was likely to incur at the hands of these savages. But he had lost his faith in humanity. Humans were scum who couldn't be trusted. Out there there were more fathers willing to give away their sons. Out there were more brothers who weren't strong enough to protest watching their own sibling become a bargaining chip. Out there were more sisters who thought that betraying a loved one was acceptable if it would save their own hide. He felt no pity for those people. He didn't care what he was forced to do or what would be forced upon him. He would accept it all. The world was garbage anyway. Squaring his shoulders, he looked Aizen dead in the eye and said, without wavering,

"I will join you."

Just so you know, a "danna" (which means master) was like a geisha's sponsor. He would often provide money and gifts in exchange for "favors" from her. Go watch Memoirs of a Geisha if you haven't seen it. It explains it better than I can in one sentence.