Walking in Someone's Shadow (Bill, Kaiyo)

Shiori finished checking her equipment before throwing her bag over her shoulder and exiting the dormitory. Today was the day that she was to shadow a Shinigami on their regular shift. This was supposed to give insight into the types of duties that she would be performing once she'd graduated from the academy. Not all Shinigami were assigned to kill Hollow in the world of the living. In fact, as it would turn out, those types of duties were only assigned to more experienced Shinigami such as the seated officers of the thirteen court guard squads. The Shinigami she was assigned to shadow today was not seated and, from what Shiori could tell, had only recently graduated from the academy himself.

"Suzumei, Emon." She said to herself as she read over her orders. It appeared as though the Shinigami was assigned to patrol one of the districts within the Rukongai. Sightings had been reported of illicit activity which may or may not involve some low-ranking Shinigami. Shiori had heard of thugs that ran the poorer quarters of the Rukongai, rumors involving Shinigami extorting protection money from those that could barely afford it. For those that couldn't afford it, they were reminded of why they needed to pay for protection in the first place. Though none of these rumors were ever confirmed, it seemed as though they were not entirely dismissed either. Shiori had hoped that she would not get into an altercation that turned physical today but she prepared herself mentally for it just in case.

She stuffed her orders into her robe and continued down the road to where she was supposed to meet this Shinigami. Hopefully, she didn't arrive too early to meet him.

“ . . . “

Emon opened his eyes and looked up at the ramparts of his living quarters, the futon he should have been sleeping on lay propped up on a nearby wall. He rolled across the wooden floor, his hands slapping the lacquered surface as he propped himself up into a crouch position and craned his neck backwards. The mid-morning sun streaked through the shoji as with his wrist he rubbed his weary eyes.

Another bad dream. Since he’d graduated the academy that was all he got lately, bad dream after bad dream that coupled with the fever dreams that happened fortnightly had really worn down his usually chipper mood. He tossed on his shihakushō, rearranged his bedding to look vaguely presentable and proceeded to light a cigarette.

Just another day.

“ . . .”

His eyes narrowed. What was that buzzing sound? A fly? His eyes narrowed as he pinpointed the sound of the buzzing and found a bee hovering near the corner of the sliding door into his room. Emon opened it, letting the small insect escape into the outside corridor. He sighed and sat down, pouring a small cup of sake to start his day - but the buzzing hadn’t ceased. The Shinigami looked over his shoulder and he couldn’t believe the damned bee was still hovering there.

“Hey, can you move on? I’d like to start right” he said, shaking the cup in the bee’s direction and taking a small sip of the alcohol. Unfortunately, Emon could not speak to insects, so the bee still hovered mindlessly by the doorway. Hold on - that wasn’t a bee either - what was the name? Couldn’t remember, didn’t really care - bee would do. He walked towards it shooing it with both hands, and thankfully the bee moved, a whole metre into the hall. Great.

Emon closed the door.

The buzzing continued - right by his ear - the bee had crept inside with him. Emon groaned and threw open the door and began trudging down the hall, the bee following. “If I take you outside you’ll leave me alone?” the bee simply buzzed and Emon reluctantly continued walking. You know, if he had actually bothered really focusing on demon arts in the academy maybe he could do more that conjure a flame on his fingertips - maybe he could even get rid of a bee without going overkill with a zanpakuto.

Ye, hey that was a good idea. He’d learn a kido spell at some point, something to do to twiddle his thumbs while he waited for his zanpakuto to do the ‘thing’. That’s what they all called it, the ‘thing’ the moment your zanpakuto and you had this revelation about your bond and you suddenly became a real Shinigami - Emon wasn’t really a real anything, about all he had to his name was ‘traveller’ and that was because he’d spent so long finding his way to the Soul Society anyway.

Eventually he reached the exit door of the unseated barracks, these were where all the Shinigami who had yet to enter a squad resided. The difficulty in choosing a squad was a great pressure for some but Emon was simply waiting for the right ‘fit’. He wanted to be wined and dined, a captain to sit him down, take him by the hand and then he would profess undying devotion to them. Atleast, that was how it played out in Emon’s head.

When he reached the outside, where the cherry blossoms bloomed and the pink petals  surrounded him, he outstretched his hand and the bee spun out from his fingertips and into the crisp blue mid-morning sky.


And then it was as if in that mid morning, half of something just seemed to slot in. He found words just forming in his mouth meaningless yet, half important. Like a forgotten memory on the tip of his tongue, cradled by the wind as he said it.

“ . . . “

“Sayonaara Suzemebachi”

“. . .“

“Wow” he said out loud plopping onto the ground in front of a cherry tree and pulling his bottle of sake out from his shihakushō and taking a swig “finally got rid of that bee”. The day was bright, the afternoon was long and Emon was very, very fond of this particular tree. Yes, as Emon swirled the sake and closed one eye as the mid day sun pierced the leaves just right, he looked out at the path that winded from the academy to his barracks. He remembered those days with fondness, they had only been a few months ago but that seemed like yesterday. The relaxed Shinigami then noticed a lone figure on the path wearing the uniform of the spiritual arts academy.  

Huh, weird to see an academy student out here, maybe they were looking at their options of living after they graduated? Emon thought that was reasonable, but he couldn't help but have an itch somewhere in the back of his mind. There was something important he felt like he'd forgotten. A document that had been plastered under his futon as he'd rearranged it.

" ASSIGNMENT " - he remembered now, those big letters. Instructions to guide an academy student in a rukongai patrol.

An academy student.

The bottle of sake vanished into his robes.

"Hey" Emon greeted the student - Shiori . . .Shiro - what? C'mon the sake wasn't that strong.

". . . Kato . . . "

The last name flickered into his head, a dull spark.

"Kato-san, I presume?" Emon said with a nod. He wasn't sure how she preferred to be greeted so he played it safe. Slowly standing and dusting the cherry blossom off his knees.

"If you're fine with carrying that satchel we can get started, the Rukongai waits for no man and no man waits for the Rukongai" he outstretched a hand while turning in the direction of the gate out of the Seireitei - a cigarette dropped between thumb and forefinger from a hidden compartment. The recently graduated had a barracks nearby to the academy to help adjust to the move, since Emon was yet to find a squad he hadn't yet gained a proper living quarters in the rukongai district owned by a squad.

"Emon Suzumei, though I think you already know that? Anything I should know - allergies? Fears of Hollow? Oh speaking of, if you see any bees let me know" he smiled at her scratching his chin while taking a drag of his now-lit cigarette. Oh boy, this was his first time doing something like this and he was surprisingly nervous. Oh well, nothing could go that wrong? Right . . . . right? He looked at the girls black ribbon that tied up her light blue hair - eh, nice fabric. Wonder which district she got that in, one? Might be a mistake bringing that in. . . Eh. It'll be fine.

Yasu was deep in Rukongai, around district 53. There's a reason they call this place the drifting spirit town, especially around her neck of the woods. People here were fighting for their lives on the daily, they were bullied and broken and alone. Families weren't by blood here, Yasu could relate to that. There was a heavy sense of surreal when you dropped below district 50. Most people still had shoes but their clothes were rags and the 'laws' of the shinigami never really applied...Except when they were personal. Yasu was wearing her usual garb, a lot of brown and leather really. It was all she could afford and it was functional, the woman was lithe enough that most clothes could fit well without much effort. Her bow was in her hand, a dagger attached to her thigh and a full quiver of arrows waited on her back. She had high hopes for the day, she'd heard a new family of deer had migrated. Though deer tend not to migrate, their last home had been burnt down in another shinigami 'accident'. She scoffed in her head at the organisation, they were bullies; she knew that first hand. In fact, Yasu had been actively trying to reconcile how she felt towards them, since she'd promised a friend she'd join with him. At current, she was secretly hoping she could still dissuade him but if she was honest with herself she knew that was a lost cause. But shinigami suck.

It was still early, so the streets were empty. A few shops and food spots were just setting up. She knew most of them and as the silver haired woman strolled the streets, she passed with a cursory nod to the familiar faces. There was no wind today, not even a little rustling by her feet and the still air gave her a sense of calm. Yasu was just a few streets off the entrance to her hunting ground when she heard a scream. It was muffled but distinct and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Her eyes grew wider as her steps became longer. Faster. Her silver hair was braided and tied back, rogue strands fluttered from their place as she sped up to a run. Yasu knew how to move silently, even if she had no concept of her reiatsu giving her away. The woman rounded the corner, her soft boots cushioning the sound she made on the dirt track. One shinigami (of course) and three thugs behind him, their poisonous grins were dripping with magnanimous hubris. Yasu could feel outrage swelling in her chest as her hand floated to her quiver. For now, she was out of sight.

'Now, let's go over this. You pay protection fees, for protection'. The shinigami had the owner (and elderly man, by the name of Hotaka) by the scruff of his neck. His framed wilted under the strength of the bully. With his free talon, the balding boulder of a shinigami flipped a table to the back of the small den. The man's family scattered from the debris, two children cowered in the corner and his wife was grabbed by another thug, her cries pushed back into her mouth as the man leered over her frame. The shinigami booted through his counter, his pans and food flying everywhere. 'Look what happens when you don't pay old man'. Tears welled up in Hotaka's eyes, as he pleaded with the giant. 'Please, I dont have the money. Next week, I can get it for you, please!' The shinigami drew back his free hand and with one punch, the man's body went limp. 'Let's send a message boys' Yasu had never seen someone so strong and that rage inside her chest began to reek of fear. Her eyes caught a glimpse of the rising sun as she loaded her bow. The shinigami flung Hotaka's body through the shop like an empty sack of flour. Turning towards his sneering friends as he lit a match.

As Shiori reached the barracks for unseated graduates, she noticed a man sat beneath a large cherry tree that appeared to be in full bloom. He seemed to notice her as well for he was watching her as she approached. He greeted her by name, suggesting that this was the Shinigami she was supposed to be meeting today. As the man stood up, brushing himself off in the process, Shiori looked to the sky. The sun was high in the sky, its rays beating down on her face. She didn't much enjoy the spring, for it meant the return of insects and pollen that coated buildings and roads in a thick dusting of yellow. She much preferred the winter months for the general lack of these annoyances, besides the cold never really bothered her. "If you're fine with carrying that satchel we can get started, the Rukongai waits for no man and no man waits for the Rukongai."

Shiori looked back to the man as he lit a cigarette. He seemed a bit odd to the academy student as he asked his questions about allergies and bees. "Nothing that will affect our assignment.", she said simply. She was never one for long conversations, having spent most of her life living in the home of a noble family she was used to only speaking when spoken to. Aside from her mother and brother she rarely spoke to anyone at great lengths.

The two walked for what must've been an hour before they reached the gate leading out of the city. Hakutōmon, or the White Road Gate as some called it, led to District 1 of the Rukongai. This district, known as Junrinan, was the first of many districts they would pass through on their patrol. At first, Shiori was surprised when her orders said that this assignment would last for several days. She soon realized after spending several hours walking through district after district, why this assignment would take so long. They were not patrolling the upper districts of the Rukongai, but rather the districts more rampant with crime and rife with poverty. The sun began to fall as they reached the gate to District 50. Shiori was absolutely exhausted, even after all the breaks they took to eat and to relieve themselves, she still felt like she'd been on a non-stop death march. When it was finally time to rest for the night, she couldn't fall asleep fast enough. The small campfire kept them warm in the secluded shelter they'd taken up in for the night. The young academy student sprawled herself onto her bedroll as the older Shinigami kept watch for the first few hours.

Come first light they would break camp and head further into the lower districts. They would need their wits about them from here on out as the living conditions in districts passed this point declined sharply, and with that decline, crime became more and more commonplace.

You know the problem with introverts? This right here. This was the problem. They did not talk - at all and to be fair Emon wasn’t the type to prod anyone for a conversation if they did not want to. So began the long trek out to district fifty three. He liked district fifty three in an objective sense, it was about halfway through the rukongai and was really when it started getting rough, it was when a more illicit underbelly of the rukongai began to manifest.

“You know I use to do this often? Just walked from district one to district eighty, north - south - east - west. Not quite sure why I did it either. I was about your age when I woke in district eighty south and I spent a lot of time wandering. Folks started calling me the ‘traveller’ cos I travelled. Some still do. The ‘proud ones’ in the highest and lowest numbered districts” he took a long drag as he sat down near the campfire by Shiori, he watched the girls eyes as she stared into the embers. It was night and they’d just made it to district fifty so there wasn’t long to go before they hit district fifty one.

He sighed staring into those embers, remembering those days where his feet had blistered and calloused and his mind had wandered. Emon had eventually ended up on the doors of the seireitei but he still wondered what would have happened if he had been left to his own devices just a little bit longer.

Probably less smokes and sake. He smiled and took the first watch and in those early embers in the moonlight, as Emon cradled his bottle and his cigarette burned out on the ground. An insect buzzed warily over his head.

The next morning Emon led them towards district fifty three. He’d noticed the student had taken it a bit harder than Emon had, sometimes he forgot the training a Shinigami went through really molded your physical fitness to be slightly above the regular rukongai goer and this girl was only a second year. Subtly so she wouldn’t feel insulted, Emon had slowed their pace a lil but it wasn’t long before the noticeable rot of crime began creeping into the nearby buildings as they passed.

“It’s sad in a way. Real quiet sadness. Not even death is perfect for these guys. I guess we’re lucky, that we’re special? Man, looking at this I don’t feel special”

Storefronts soon began looking slightly more bedraggled, the odd beggar could be seen poking his head out of alleyways. Just slight differences, but slight enough that the toll of ‘districts’ was clear to the two denizens of seireitei who had trekked fifty in one day.

“Hey Kato-san - did you hear something just now?” his ears had perked up, somewhere in the distance he’d heard a distinct crashing and shattering of wood breaking under a sudden weight.
Now that they were technically ‘patrolling’ he guided their course.

“Any trouble and you leave it to me” he said to her as they vanished down a side street and opened up onto a broken storefront. The door had been pulled? From its hinges, was hard to say could’ve been forced. His reiatsu perception pinged three on his radar and one slightly less note somewhere nearby.

More worrisome was the Shinigami standing clearly in the centre of the shop - he recognised that posture, it was an upperclassman from his graduation year - couldn’t remember his name, quite frankly Emon didn’t really care too much for most of the people that he had graduated with. “Hey, remember how I said leave it to me? Usually I wouldn’t have you use your Zanpakuto on a rukongai citizen seriously, but this guy? Well, I believe in justice, so if the need arises. . .”

Yasu didn't know it but her spiritual energy had spiked when she released the arrow. Her breath was steady, her aim was true but she'd been given away by something she didn't even know existed. The large shinigami spun around and snarled, 'Kill 'em!' as her arrow hit the first assailant in the neck. He released the woman, clutching his own wound as he dropped to his knees, gargling his own demise. Yasu was already on the move, pumping her legs with all she could muster as adrenaline began to course through her body. The shop was lit and by a curse of their own feeble environment, the wooden building caught fire in seconds. Yasu felt the heat of the man near her as he swung his sword at her head. She leapt forwards, rolling to the ground as she loaded another arrow and was catapulted through the door. The world had shaken and her head swelled instantly. It pulsed, as blood began to seep through her hair. The shinigami was barrelling towards her, and Yasu tried to staggered back up to her feet. She fired off another arrow to ward back another thug from the woman, she was screaming and reaching for her son. Yasu caught the tattooed mercenary in the arm as she swung her bow to block the shinigami. The sheer force of the man knocked her off balance. The world was still quaking as she threw herself to the side, splintered tables exploded around her. The crying girl, Yasu crawled through the smoke, flames licked at her leather jacket as she picked up the child.

An explosion threw them forwards, knocking all of them down. Black smoke began to billow upwards into the sky. The large shinigami wasn't down for long. Yasu rolled onto her back, releasing the child she'd shielded with her body. The girl scrambled away towards her mother as the shinigami brought his foot down onto Yasu, she was slow but still faster than this mountain of a man. His foot went through the floor and she rolled over to grab her bow. Blackness shuddered through her eyes as she exhaled dark smoke. She fired towards the shinigami and missed. Her elbow moved up to her ear as she blocked his kick, unable to negate his force as her body was thrown at his buddy. They both rolled and banged against the ground in a heap. Yasu could only register pain in her body. Darkness that began to swallow her vision. The kids had gone but their mother was racing into the fire to find Hotaka. One thug was dead, one just bleeding from his arm and the other was unconscious next to Yasu. She'd never felt so weak. So incapable. Her body wouldn't move, her lungs couldn't find the oxygen to manage it.

The large shinigami turned towards her, huffing in rage as he raised his sword above his head, his vision lifted as he caught sight of something, something that rattled him enough to pause. She really hated shinigami.

Shiori could hardly believe the scene that was unfolding in front of her. The level of destruction that these men had wrought on this family's shop, the blood that now soaked the floorboards, the flames that licked at the walls, and the woman that lay beneath the Shinigami who likely had broken at least a rib if not her arm. Shiori's hand was already on her blade before Emon gave the order, but that was all she needed before she lept into action. The blue-haired academy student dashed forward while the brute was still caught off guard. She dove towards the man's legs, drawing her blade and slashing the back of his knee in one motion. After rolling passed the brute, Shiori righted herself upwards onto her feet again and took a defensive stance opposite Emon in order to flank her more powerful opponent.

The brute was indeed more powerful both in his size and in his experience. She was by no means an expert on sensing spiritual energies but she could tell that this man was in a league above Emon's let alone her own. This could very well end up being a fight for her life, and for the lives of everyone in this shop. "Let her go or we will take you down piece by piece." Shiori's voice didn't betray her emotion but her hands felt shaky with the adrenaline that was now coursing through her body. The oversized shinigami couldn't help but chuckle at the girl. "You're going to take me down? With that skinny blade? Ha! Don't make me laugh kid." He turned his gaze back towards Emon. "I know you don't I? Can't say I remember your name but I wager you know mine."

The shinigami lifted his foot from atop Yasu and took a step towards Emon. "If that's the case, I can't let you live... any of you." He lifted his blade and pointed it towards his fellow Shinigami. "Carve their flesh and break their bones, Nikuya."
The sword began to twist and turn in the brute's massive hand until it took the form of a curved cleaver. It pulsed with an energy that made Shiori uneasy even if it wasn't pointed directly at her. Moments later the man charged at Emon, his weight bowing the wooden floorboards with each massive step. As he rushed towards the other Shinigami, one of the other thugs appeared through the thick black smoke that now filled the room. His arm bloody and his eyes full of rage he swung his hand-ax towards the academy student.

The need arose. It happened in a slow motion, an arrow appearing from the shadows and piercing the neck of a now dead fool on the ground. A flurry of silver and movement as a citizen of rukongai spun to action to save those she obviously sought to protect and this his own protege moving at his command just as the explosion sounded and his own words left his lips.

“Shit” escaped his lips. A simple word. As his ears rang from the detonation and the academy’s student danced between the legs of a thug. But the ringing of the explosion? It wasn’t a ring. It was a song, a song that always played - it was piano and he’d been told it was a song from the living world “Flight of the Bumblebee” at this point Emon was wondering why everything that had to do with him always came back to bees.

It should be said that Emon wasn’t crazy. In fact he’d seen numerous therapists about it, a lot of them thought he was joking - a few of them said that wasting their time with his lackaday attitude to get out of class was probably a waste of his talents. The last, a tutor had simply smiled in his direction - you’ll find out Suzumei-san, was all he had gotten

He drummed his temples, once . . . twice . . . three times. His zanpakuto at his side sliding into visibility as his shihakusho - “I remember you now - Hyousuke right? - you realise releasing your zanpakuto shows you already have reserved the right to be defeated today?” ah Emon needed to take a breath. Anything really, It wasn’t that he disliked combat, It was just whenever he did, he had certain ticks.

Hyousuke had shikai - what this meant was they were vastly outgunned and outmatched. But they had numbers so that was a win. “Bah, I remember you now, Emon? You sat at the back of our classes and smoked. Where’s your shikai Suzumei? Be a man!” Emon’s eyes flickered to the silver haired girl in the shadows - she was close enough to the fire that if . . . that if . . . his eyes twinkled.

Emon stumbled forward, his zanpakuto slicing through the fabric of his uniform and sending a strip of cloth falling into his hand concealed in his robe - whilst his right hand raised in regards whilst he held his weapon.

“Kato-chan, let this be your first lesson “swinging one’s blade out of duty alone is a shinigami’s job. Swinging one’s blade out of hatred is nothing more than violence”  Emon dashed forward, flickering for a brief second as shunpo guided his movement, his hidden hand released from the tear and sent something tumbling in the direction of the silver haired girl as his sealed zanpakuto slammed against the man’s shikai.

Hyousuke smiled, as his cleaver struck against Emon’s blade forcing him back a step. “You know the great thing about this Shikai? The moment it hits bone they crumble, I am going to really enjoy taking off both your arms” another blow and Emon now had two hands on his zanpakuto - the buzzing in his head - the tune. This wasn’t how Emon fought so why was he giving in to the stronger Shinigami’s games?

Emon’s eyes flickered as another blow sent him stumbling backwards, they had to even the playing field - there were two of them but it was clear that the difference in power was significant.

C’mon trump card.

A bottle of sake that Emon had tossed with a rag soaked in it from his uniform. Now Emon was hoping - hoping for his life that the silver haired woman in the flaming cinders wouldn’t think if sake was flammable or not - because truth be told that was another one of his secrets - same sake bottle - different alcohol. Today it was whiskey.

Yasu felt the world fading into darkness as she lay below the man. She was losing consciousness as the others arrived and for a moment she wasn't awake at all. Her body arched forwards when the boulder released his foot from her frame. Her lungs screamed in pain as she gasped for air, she wiped the soot from face as she rolled onto her hands and knees. Yasu had been hurt before but this was something else. The silver haired woman felt like she was asleep. The flames snaked around her vision as she tried to regain her bearings. Two shinigami, one blue haired girl, was she a shinigami too? Maybe she was the apprentice or something. The girl had managed to make the mountain stumble, so Yasu preferred her for now. The woman crawled back towards the shop, her eyes watering with the smoke as gasped with each movement. They were talking, of course they were talking! Damn shinigami. Her blood stained hand caught on something cold and her hand rolled over it as she fell onto her back. The bottle chinked against the dagger at her hip and Yasu dragged her mind back to life. Smoke covered the sky, enshrouding their battleground. Yasu's woods lay out of reach, probably forever now. It was probably fortunate Yasu was in so much pain, the shock has taken over so she didn't yet realise just how serious her situation was. This was a ride or die moment and Yasu refused to die at the hand of this scum soul reaper.

The blue haired girl blurred around at the side of her perception as Yasu dragged her ass up. The flames danced on the bottle in her hand as she finally pieced together the soaked fabric spouting from the neck. She lifted her cool gaze towards the smaller shinigami and nodded to herself. Okay. Since the guy was fighting with a bone dissolving cleaver, Yasu decided it was best to keep her distance. Her foot gave way for a moment as the third thug appeared from behind her. Thankfully, this idiot brought a plank of wood to a knife fight. In fairness, the thugs clearly hadn't expected this much resistance. The wood whooshed over her head as Yasu drove her shoulder up through the mans ribs. They fell back into the shop together. Yasu could hear him hitting her, she head her body blocking but the pain didn't register yet. Good, she still had time. She leapt off the man, closing her eyes inside the fire as she unsheathed the dagger from her side. She'd have held her breath if she had any. Her came blundering towards her, yelling and swinging. That helped. The woman deftly shifted her weight, turning to the side as she slashed across his neck. She'd hoped it was his neck. Either way, she felt contact and he went falling forwards. Yasu sheathed her dagger and began her next search.

Throwing a burning bottle at someone might be enough but this guy was tough as hell and Yasu only had one shot here. Her eyes streamed down her charred face. The blood dried across her body, cracking in the heat as she grabbed the bottle of oil she'd been searching for. Idiots started the fire at the back of the building, thankfully, their cooking equipment was up front. Yasu heard another roar from the man behind her as she threw her body into the clearing. She opened her eyes again, blearily searching for her bow. Yasu collected her accoutrements as quickly as she could. Praying her arms would still obey her will. It seemed like that was all the woman was running on now, sheer will.

The large bottle of oil was heavy. At least, it felt heavy now. Yasu climbed up to her feet, swinging the large container around once before she flung it towards Hyousuke. The large vat flew slowly, slow enough for Yasu to clamber and grab her bow, she released an arrow clear into the contained as it exploded over the large shinigami's back. He whipped around towards her as she lent back to light the bottle. If Yasu believed in any kind of omnipotent power, she would have prayed for help. He roared and began tumbling towards her as she threw the bottle the lit bottle at him. Yasu grabbed her bow and threw her body as far as she could. She rolled back up to her feet. Squinting through her burning vision to try and shoot an arrow towards the figure attacking the blue girl. Her hair colour helped.

Wild panic shot across her face as she turned around to Hyousuke; his bone crushing cleaver was already swinging towards her body. Yasu brought her bow back up to block him, trying to hold her body weight against the strike. He sliced through it like butter and she was thrown backwards. Bow destroyed. Yasu's limp body crashed against the dirt ground. The gravel stuck to her blood smeared body as the darkness took her consciousness. Of course, two options: killed by a shinigami or saved by shinigami.

Shiori could barely keep track of everything that was happening around her. The hatchet-wielding thug swung wildly at her, which was easy enough to dodge as his wounded arm made his attacks sloppy. He could see the brute of a man, now known as Hyousuke, advancing on Emon. The brute swung a few times at the shinigami but thankfully none of his attacks directly cut the man, only staggered him slightly.

The man with the hatchet caught Shiori off guard and would have injured her severely if not for the silver-haired woman's arrow piercing his wrist and causing his weapon to sail from his grip into the wall behind the academy student. Shiori slashed at the man's uninjured arm and took it off completely with one clean cut. He fell to the floor screaming in pain, cradling his shoulder; trying to stem the flow of blood. He wouldn't pose a threat anymore the girl thought to herself. It was then that Shiori noticed a woman crawling on her hands and knees to avoid the smoke as she searched for her husband. The sound of fire crackling around then was almost deafening but the young academy student could just make out the sound of the wooden beam above them snapping.

It came crashing down towards the woman but was caught between the wall and the shop counter. It didn't look as though the counter would hold it for long as Shiori could see the cheap pine already bowing under the oak beam's weight. She dashed towards the woman and grabbed her arm as she arrived, pulling her out from under the beam with all her strength. Just as the woman was clear of the beam, the countertop gave way and the beam crashed to the floor. "You have to help me find my husband!" was all the woman could say to the fledgling shinigami. It was apparent that the woman had inhaled a large amount of smoke and wasn't thinking clearly. Shiori kicked open a door leading to the outside, she began to drag the woman as she resisted, screaming that she wasn't leaving without her husband. Her children could be heard crying from a few meters away. "I will find your husband but you have to protect your children." With that, the academy student reentered the burning building.

She scanned the room and watched as Yasu slashed the throat of a board-wielding thug before throwing a flaming Molotov at the oil-soaked brute of a shinigami. The man roared but she wasn't entirely sure if it was due to the pain or simply his rage. As Hyousuke turned towards the woman with the bow, Shiori could see his flesh charring though it was almost as if the brute didn't care. Did this have something to do with his Shikai's effect or was his willpower really strong enough to ignore that level of pain? She didn't have time to dwell on it because the brute was now advancing on the woman's location. He slashed his large blade at her but his attack was somewhat lessened by the bow the woman used as a shield. The bow shattered and the woman was thrown several feet away. Shiori knew that if she didn't do something the woman would not survive the next attack.

She dashed towards the man, using a nearby wooden stool as a platform to leap off of. She cleared a pile of burning debris and descended upon the brute with an overhead slash. The girl was small by all accounts and would normally lack the strength to severely wound the man but the downward force of her leaping strike was enough to allow her blade to dig deep into the man's neck. Shiori could feel her blade dig into his collar bone before she crashed into the floor, causing her blade to slide down his chest. Blood poured from the wound but the man did not seem fazed, "That one's going to cost you girly."

Another blow and Emon was sent stumbling backwards as the brute barreled at him. He was fortunate, the girl with the bow knew immediately what to do. She vanished into the fires and moments later returned with more than what he was hoping for. The Molotov was simply an igniter. The defending Shinigami laughed as the barrel of oil streaked through the air and shattered onto the back of the brute - as he whipped round the impromptu molotov collided with his chest setting him alight.

Time accelerated.

Hyousuke was driven into a deep rage that could only be described as the energy of a killer. As Emon slowly got to his feet. He watched as the woman’s bow was shattered after her righteous defiance of this beast’s power - she was more of a Shinigami than he was. Even his young companion sprinted into action - downing another one of the thugs and then catapulting herself across the room a blur of silver and justice.








"Do you know the problem with Death God Justice? It’s a rudimentary flaw. A Shinigami is trained from the day they walk through the doors of the academy, to the day they walk out - four arts to combat Hollow - the zankensoki - there justice is drilled into them, kill Hollow, protect the weak” an internal voice whined in his ears but was drowned out by the swift melody of piano - Hyousuke’s fire drenched flesh towered over a young girl. Gone was a 'Shinigami' instead Emon only saw a beast.

“But what if the "weak", is themselves?”

“Justice” he mouthed the words.

“Justice for the weak - defend the innocent - defeat the beasts - the monsters of men”

His form flickered from a crouched position, hurtling across the distance. Passed the wife crying for her husband, through the shattered remains of the shop and right into the frying pan. He shuddered into being behind the brute and swung his sword - only causing the barbarian to change target and parry his blow sloppily - stumbling out of the way of Emon as he landed in front of his charge. Emon slashed again mimicking Shiori and cleaving through the tendons of Hyoumaru’s ankles leaving movement impossible.

“Cut 斬”

His mind flickered to his training - an old move that old Titus had drilled into him when he stood being pulverized on the training field. ‘If you can make it count just once kid, that’s how you’ll win’.

“Fist 拳”

He channeled his strength into his left fist and punched the brute in his torso sending him scattering to the floor on unsteady feet. Ikkotsu. But the monster would not be kept down, he was powerful, why would he lose to these woman and this fool? Eyes like pinpricks, veins bulging, spittle rasping from a roaring mouth it flung itself upwards with a mighty downwards strike.











No humanity.

No remorse.

An enemy of Shinigami' justice, a true monster.

“Run 走”

Emon vanished. Shunpo guiding his actions. Speed was his friend, a cloak against the deadliest of foes and Emon knew instinctively that it would guide him. His form flickering into existence behind his opponent he channeled spiritual energy and pressed two fingers into the beast’s back.

“Spirit 鬼”

“Bakudo #1: Sai (塞, Restrain)”

The aggressor collapsed into the flames, his knees giving out, his arms locked behind his back and finally the fires took him. Emon slid his Zanpakuto into its sheath and looked at Shiori.

“Zankensoki (「斬」「拳」「走」「鬼」, Cut- Fist-Run-Spirit)”

The pillars of Shinigami arts. Justice.

“Go, find the rest of the family, I have these two”

Moments would pass as the two Shinigami danced amongst the flames, the shop wouldn’t be salvaged - the damage was too great. But no lives were lost.

Yes.

No lives, as the charred near breathing husk of a man lay bound in the corner of a Rukongai alley and the two Shinigami stood watch as a Rukongai healer did the best she could with a silver haired girl with a broken bow beside her.

“Ah, Kato-san, we will need to stop at a liquor store on the way out of Rukongai, that was my last good bottle” he said with a frown. Ah, he was no good at this fighting thing; it was too messy for his tastes - he had lost an entire bottle of whiskey! And his robes - hoo boy his robes, wait til the barracks inspection - he was going to have hell to pay.

Yasu was drifting between reality and farce, the difference was incomprehensible. Flames swayed above her head and smoke swallowed her body. There was movement. The monster shinigami was beaten and angry and fighting against the kido bonds that held him. Unsuccessfully. The blue haired woman had saved her life. The inferno danced in her silver gaze as she tried to watch the girl move through the collapsing building. Bravery like that was hard to ignore, even if the fancy kid was dressed like a noble. Yasu was willing to look past that. Sounds seemed to echo through her body, ruminating through her broken pieces.

She winced, someone was over her body, jabbing and prodding. Everything hurt and her questions sounded like muffled waves, too far away to distinguish. Whatever local was trying to help, she needed more. Her eyes fell upon her shattered bow and a tear rolled down her ashen face. Things really do fall apart when you least expect it. Yasu had traded her life for that bow, it was her life force. Her crutch. Now it was beyond repair. A single laugh escaped her crushed lungs. Now there was no reason not to get a shinigami sword.

A wave of debris flew past her body when the building finally collapsed. It seemed like the blue haired woman managed to save everyone. Good. Hotaka deserved that. More bodies appeared. Yasu didn't see them but she could hear muffled speech. The restrained man was still angrily thrashing around. In his own feeble attempt to escape what bound him, he fell next to where she lay. Clouds of ash and dust swirled around Yasu as the ground pulsed. 'You! You bitch! You think this will save your friends? This will only make it worse for them!...' He was dragged away. 'This won't stop us! They'll just send someone else now!'. The words sank into her skin like knives.

It was there, right then, that Yasu truly decided to become a shinigami. The shadows folded around her again. She was moved, carried or lifted maybe. Her eyes managed to recapture one last look at the two that saved her. She'd have to see them again. There was talking but she couldn't make out the words, some mention of healing (she hoped). Then speed like she'd never felt before. Yasu had heard about shunpo before, but she didn't realise it felt like being thrown off a rollercoaster.

Then nothing. Just her dreams. Her gratitude.Her pain. Her resolve.

The shopkeep's wife ran over just as Shiori sat Hotaka down under the shade of a large maple tree. The fight was over and everyone managed to escape the burning building... well, nearly everyone. The large brute of a Shinigami fought tooth and nail, even in his restrains. He was determined to kill or be killed, for him there was no alternative. The building, after all the abusive it had endured, finally collapsed in on itself. Emon had taken to carrying the injured woman as far as he could to meet the Fourth Squad's response team. Hyousuke's remaining goons ran off before they could be captured, despite the severe injuries that some of them sustained. "I can't thank you enough, young lady. You and your companions saved my family, they are worth more to me than a thousand shops."

"I'm just sorry we weren't able to do more for you." Shiori looked to the sky, the sun was now high into the sky and many of the residents of District 53 had gathered to see what had happened. "I must report back now but I wish you and your family good fortune." The girl stood up and turned to walk away. She could see the looks on all of the faces of those that now crowded around her. Most of them seemed to fear or even her for what she was, even if she was only a trainee. Did these people really think that all shinigami were like that thug? She started to walk passed the crowd as it slowly parted to allow her through. Still, she could feel their gazes boring into her as she continued walking down the road. She could only imagine the types of things thugs like Hyousuke had gotten away with over the years. She was now determined, more than ever, to complete her academy training so that she might be able to help change things for the people of the Rukongai. For now, she'd try to catch up to Emon. Hopefully, he'd gotten the woman the medical attention she needed.

It wasn’t long before they apprehended the man who was formerly Hyousuke and dragged him away, Emon raised a hand just before they dragged him off - they’d already left with the other girl to give her urgent medical attention in the fourth squad barracks. She was in capable hands now so that was one less thing to check off the list.

He approached the broken, frothing man, his words were disgruntled, something about there being more than just him - that was fine - when the monsters came Emon would be there to put them down like the rabid dogs they were. One by one. The Shinigami put his mouth close to the Shinigami’s ear.

“Friend, you are missing something, where is your zanpakuto?”

The beast paled and then snapped his mouth in Emon’s direction as he was dragged off. The report would say that the weapon was lost in the fighting. But really it was tucked away into his robe, the man would be sentenced to a life in the maggots nest, he wouldn’t be needing it. A trophy for a battle hard fought? Or something else. Emon wasn’t quite sure. It could be handy someday who knows and declawing a dog was doing the whole of Soul Society a service.

His charge vanished to return to Soul Society to give her report, but Emon stayed. He was still technically on patrol here but due to the circumstances the Academy had required Shiori’s return which was fair enough. The Shinigami sat himself on a rooftop overlooking the district and swirled a bottle of sake he had obtained during the aftermath of the fight, too much logistics for his liking.

A cigarette lit, alcohol in hand and a pensive expression on his face.

He would do better next time. He’d train and get stronger.

“Justice” he spat.

END.