Nothing seemed to have changed in the Seireitei port town of Merristone to Renji Abarai as the modest ship pulled up to the row of docks along the harbor. At least, nothing that was evident in the growing dusk around him. Lights blinked on along the taverns and brothels lining the pier slips, the high pitched laughter of women mingling with the raucous challenges of men from the open doorways. From a few ships farther down from the dock the Scarlet Reaper approached, the sounds of a tambourine rang off the wooden holds, a female voice rising in song.

Renji stood at the portside rail, eyes moving over the few ships docked at the other slips. A couple were clearly pirate, a few others merchant vessels, but questionable. Like his own ship. But they were none he'd seen before.

He retied the black headrag around his deep red hair, most of the length twisted into two braids at his left temple. It was a departure from how he'd worn it most of his life in Seireitei, when he'd been in service to the Kuchiki family.

Which was why he was there now.

"Captain, we're ready to tie off," Izuru said from the main mast post. His eyes shifted nervously along the dockside of town, even more nervous than his usual worry.

Renji nodded to him. "Stop with the formalities, Izuru. There's no one here to impress."

Izuru looked to the other ships warily.

Renji leaned both hands on the rail, hearing the crew's rumblings in the forecastle as the men readied to scout the town in search of amusements.

"You need me on the next trip, Renji?" Izuru asked as he crossed the deck. His question coincided with the neighboring ship's bells ringing the late hour. Izuru cleared his throat. "Do you have someone in mind as first mate for the next trip?"

It was a pertinent question. Renji didn't have a permanent first mate; the crew accepted it, most preferring the unusual arrangement, or lack of one. "I don't know where the next voyage is yet, Izuru," Renji told him, and then slapped him on his unsuspecting shoulder, bringing a flinch from him. "Go see your little Momo."

Izuru grinned, but only for a moment. He pushed his shaggy hair from his face, his smile turning wistful. "It's not appropriate anymore; she's engaged to Toshiro Hitsugaya."

Renji had suspected as much. Time at sea drove hearts apart. He'd hoped so, not for Izuru, but for himself. Perhaps not so much his heart, as his loyalties. He waved a consent to the crewmen who'd gathered at the port rail to extend the gangplank to the dock as a few others tied off ropes to the dock posts. He looked back to Izuru. "A hello wouldn't hurt anyone."

Izuru nodded, turning to the gangplank several of the crew was cranking into place.

"Friendship doesn't have to take such a low second seat to a fiancé." Renji wasn't sure how much of those words were for his crewman and how much for himself, but he didn't try to decide that. He'd been down that bridge too many times. Sometimes being blindsided by reality made for sour thoughts that repeated like a bad song. "Anyway," he said, standing straight and putting one hand to the scabbard at his side, "a hello is always in order."

Izuru nodded, and then turned as Shuuhei Hisagi approached them, a grin running his face.

"Let's go!" Shuuhei crowed, slapping a hand on Izuru's shoulder that made him sidestep. "I'm sure there's a woman attached to that tambourine. Let's go see what she looks like. Maybe she has a friend for you!"

Izuru frowned. "Why do you always assume I need the friend?"

Shuuhei chuckled, shaking his head at Renji. "Let's go, Kira."

Renji watched them leave, joining the other crewmen leaving the Scarlet Reaper as he gave them a nod of dismissal. The ungainly crew invaded the dock and town, their laughter crowding out sounds of the lone crewman on dogwatch at the ship's quarterdeck.

The crewman was in the middle of his second complaint about his shift when he changed his tune.

"There," he called to Renji from his position at the quarterdeck's rail. He pointed to the lone, thin figure making his way against the barrage of crewmen on the dock. "Looks like a messenger, Captain."

Renji nodded, watching the thin man approach. He easily recognized the red and purple of the man's belted tunic over black pants as Kuchiki issue. The color combination had never set well with Renji, even after his decade in Byakuya Kuchiki's service. One of the differences now was that he didn't have to remain silent about the attitude.

The messenger looked anxiously from a paper rolled in his hand to the three-masted ship's stern, reading the name on the escutcheon. He glanced to Renji, frowning slightly. "Captain Abarai?"

Renji grinned. He didn't think he'd ever hear anyone from the Kuchiki estate address him as captain, not when he knew Byakuya considered him a mere smuggler, if not pirate. "Yes. What do you want?"

The man made a short bow. "I have a horse waiting for you from Lord Kuchiki's private stables. Your groundage has been paid," he said, his voice neutral as his eyes skimmed over the ship's causal appearance. "I must insist on urgency."

"I'm sure you must," Renji said dryly. Even from afar Byakuya could be insulting. "I can pay my own damn port fees, thank you."

"No need, Captain," the messenger insisted. "It's taken care of. Please, your horse is waiting."

Before Renji could argue the point further, the slight man turned and walked down the dock, his footsteps quick as he put distance between him and the other ships.

Muttering, Renji followed. "First man back has the next watch," he called to the crewman on watch duty at the quarterdeck. "First sober man back."

The crewman nodded. "Aye, Captain."

The warm night air was full of music, laughter, and the smell of the sea gently lapping at the breakers, but Renji's thoughts were already moving on to his meeting with his former employer. At the end of the dock the messenger met a youth holding the reins to a tall bay horse. All were owned by Byakuya Kuchiki, Renji knew, as was nearly everything else in the port town of Merristone. It could be worse, he also knew; Kuchiki couldn't have everything he wanted, namely the small island in the bay called Weaver's Isle, the jewel of the isles that dotted the coastline. It was the most coveted of seaboard property, and one that Byakuya, and several other nobles, had tried to buy or control, without success.

There wasn't much Kuchiki didn't own or couldn't buy. It was one thing that made Renji appreciate his freedom on the seas, and at the helm of his own ship.

Not one that was owned by Kuchiki, despite the family's vast fleet of merchant ships, some of which Renji had worked aboard before serving in other capacities, namely as the young Rukia Kuchiki's personal bodyguard.

He grabbed the reins from the boy waiting with the horse and climbed into the saddle. A fine horse, of course, as everything was that wore the Kuchiki name or marking. He scowled as he took the horse down the dockside of the lane where the bars and brothels huddled.

Employment with the Kuchiki family had its drawbacks, he'd learned, but the lower class families had few alternatives to accepting those positions sometimes, and sometimes at the cost of individuality. At least the Kuchiki family wasn't so barbaric as to brand their servants; tattooing was nearly as permanent a marker. Even so, the first chance he got at his forced-upon freedom, Renji had that ill-gotten tattoo covered.

The manor and lands were nearly as Renji remembered them, even in only the light of the full moon that played over the gardens in the valley as his horse topped the rise to the Kuchiki Valley two hours later. He halted the animal, taking in the expansive grounds and sprawling buildings that made up the Kuchiki estate.

He knew most of the land; it had been his job as Rukia's protector to know the grounds, the weakest spots and hidden entries. Rukia had also known most of them and found it, at times, great fun to hide from him when she should have been found. It blurred the lines between bodyguard and childhood friend from the neighboring sharecropper boroughs. It hadn't bothered him as a child that she ate his hard-earned work at his family's strands of grapes. It hadn't bothered her either that he was the son of the help.

Renji started the horse down the dark slope of grass to the valley below. He knew he owed the Kuchiki family for taking him in after his parents' deaths, but he'd also paid. Twelve years was twelve years, and at his present age, it was almost half a lifetime. He also knew it would end; the abruptness of that termination – upon Rukia's engagement to Ichigo Kurosaki of the Karakura region further north on the seaboard – now that had been a surprise.

Of course, Byakuya Kuchiki had offered to make amends for Renji's sudden unemployment.

He pushed those thoughts back into the darkest corner of his mind as he followed the stone paved road at the bottom of the slope to the estate. If Kuchiki had summoned him from a port two hundred miles away, he figured there was more at stake than turning a smuggler over to authorities.

He reached the house to find the wide front portico illuminated with every torch lit on the four tall marble pillars. All three stories of the grand house was decked in marble or alabaster, leafy vines climbing their way to the balconies and windows on the upper levels. As soon as Renji dismounted, a youth ran from the carefully manicured hedges to take his horse.

"Thank you! Thank you!" the boy cried, his accent giving away that he clearly was not a local.

Renji handed him the reins and was about to speak when one of the tall double doors at the porch opened. To his surprise, it was Byakuya Kuchiki himself.

Byakuya's aloof gaze lowered over Renji's attire of black pants, dark green tunic and belt weighted with scabbard. His eyes went to the black headrag. "Your haste is appreciated."

Renji nodded, the familiar feeling of inferiority slipping over him as he paused at the bottom step of the portico. "I suppose you inquired at the jails first."

A hint of smile came to the nobleman's face. "Actually, yes." He nodded. "Come in."

Inside the main floor of the lavishly furnished mansion the entry was dark. Renji recalled the rooms, the floor plan and layout of the premises, none of which had changed in the year he'd been gone from it. They passed down the dark halls to the antechamber he knew was generally the family's personal meeting room.

"When I'd heard that the pirate Zaraki had been captured last month, I naturally assumed you were still sailing with him," Byakuya said, nodding to a servant waiting as they entered the room lit with short candles in the floor candelabras. The servant bowed and left. "I understand you've branched off on your own now." Byakuya didn't sit down, but paused at the teak wood desk that was the focal point of the room. He gestured to one of the two burgundy and cream tapestry covered couches. "You needn't have turned pirate, Abarai. I offered you a ship and good contacts in the shipyards."

Renji sat down and bristled despite the comfort of the couch's upholstery. He scowled at the nobleman. "I took the crumbs I needed and left. I didn't need a ship from you."

Byakuya frowned slightly, the candlelight flickering over his face, making him appear older than his years for a moment. "You knew the day would come that Lady Rukia wouldn't need you anymore. As a bodyguard," he added, his eyes on the desk's contents of parchment, quill and ink bottle. "She still insists you attend her wedding."

"I'll be there," Renji said, watching his former employer's hand rest on something on the desk. "Is that what this is about? She set a date for the wedding?"

"No. Not exactly."

Renji sighed and sat back, laying one arm along the top of the couch top. "It's been a year. A proper year for an engagement," he said, waiting for the nobleman to say something useful. "Or is that it? Not proper to have a smuggler attend her wedding?"

Byakuya's eyes darted to him. "You chose piracy, Abarai, when –"

"Smuggler," Renji corrected him, although the difference was marginal at times and generally crossed in his cargo as well as deckside. "Not pirate."

"You attacked the Southern Pearl and Yellow Lily," Byakuya reminded.

"Emperor Yamamoto hired me to lift their cargoes," Renji countered, keeping a growl from his tone. "That's privateering. Not piracy."

"I see time on Zaraki's deck has quickly worn off on you. You should redeem yourself before it's irreversible."

Renji's eyes narrowed on him. "What do you want, Kuchiki?"

Byakuya frowned at him. "I believe that's the first time you've dared address me as such."

Renji let his attention wander about the room. The walls were tall, mostly paneled with cherrywood and malachite insets, the double louvered doors now closed that he knew opened to the back lawn where he and Rukia had played as children. On one of those walls was a portrait of Hisana, whom he had never met but had learned through her immortalization in images. His eyes naturally went to the portrait directly opposite Hisana. It was Rukia, dressed in her favorite lavender gown, the soft frills of white ruffles bordering her collar that added a fullness to her she didn't naturally have. Her dark hair was swept back with a comb laced with amethyst and pearls.

"You've heard about Sousuke Aizen lately," Byakuya said.

Renji glanced back to him, surprised to find the nobleman standing much closer, this time with a crystal glass of gold liquid in each hand. He offered one to Renji.

"Have you?"

Renji took the glass, eyes sharpening on him. "What about him? I know he's trying to raise the money to fund a war against the Emperor." He downed half the brandy, watching Byakuya finger his own glass. "I've already agreed to sail for Seireitei. If that makes me pirate, then I'm pirate." It was a good quality brandy, but he didn't finish it immediately. "Hueco Mundo is desert; of course Aizen wants Seireitei. He's never made any pretense about wanting the resources we have. Who would want that damn desert? Even promising control of the few best green regions of Hueco Mundo has gotten him little." He finished his drink, watching Byakuya levelly. "What's he got? A few loyal keeps in Las Noches? Still desert."

Byakuya stepped back to the desk and set his glass on the top. "He's been getting more creative in raising the money to wage his war, Abarai."

Renji sat forward on the couch, scowling at the nobleman's back to him. "Yes?"

"Yes." Byakuya took a deep breath, his shoulders beneath the dark purple robe falling. "Captain Ukitake has moved his family of sisters inland to the relative safety of Rukongai, such as it is. The Shibas have moved to the mountains."

Renji nodded at the mention of the noble families. "You want to move inland?"

Byakuya picked up something from the desk Renji couldn't see. "Aizen has been abducting women, mostly daughters, from noble and royal families, and demanding a hearty ransom for their safe return. That's his new scheme to raise the money for his war campaign. He's made a few mistakes, of course. Stealing women who have a name but no wealth. They're still missing, naturally."

Renji was on his feet, setting the glass absently on the nearest candle table. "What are you saying?" He nearly snatched the nobleman's sleeve when Byakuya didn't turn around fast enough.

But he did turn around and Renji saw clearly what was in his hand.

"Aizen has taken Rukia, Abarai," he said.

Renji had failed to listen. Instead his eyes frozen on the short length of black hair in Byakuya's hand. It was tied with a simple purple ribbon, Rukia's signature color, the soft wave of the lock of hair undeniably hers.

Renji made a steely effort not to grab Byakuya's robe collar. "Where is she?"

Byakuya's hand closed around the lock, eyes severe on Renji. "That damnable desert."

"Then pay him!" Renji made a gesture to the wall portrait of Rukia. "Get her back! I'll take the ransom myself!"

"He's not returning the women," Byakuya said tolerantly. "He's requesting ransoms two and three times, being paid, and then delivering the women ... when he does return them, they're dead. I want her back alive."

Renji nodded as he turned and stormed to the doorway. "Las Noches?"

"I've already sent Ichigo Kurosaki –"

Renji spun around to glare at him. "That's why you called me here? To help him?"

"To bring her back. I've sent ships out already and all have been sunk," Byakuya admitted, keeping Renji's heated glare. "I'm now sending those whom I know care for Rukia."

"I see you're still here," Renji bit at him, hand automatically gripping his sword hilt.

"Emperor Yamamoto has forbid nobles to travel out of the country," Byakuya said. "If I –"

Renji wanted to grin but didn't feel like it. "How inconvenient to be a noble right now."

"You do this," Byakuya said, rising to his full height, his temporarily slipped noble air returning, "and I'll pay you ten years' salary."

"Keep your damn money!" Renji turned and headed back to the doorway, brushing away the servant who dared cross his path as he came in. "You don't have enough to pay for something like this!"

Byakuya spoke again, but Renji heard none of it. All he was aware of was the mind-numbing words of Rukia's abduction that sent the blood on a blindingly painful course through his veins.

He desperately hoped enough of his crew was sober enough to set sail.

Author's Note: Rating to change later; Mature content will be marked at chapter beginnings. Thanks for reading!