Torch wielding bandits bobbed along dirt trail from the forest under the blackened early morning sky like festival lanterns… armed with ragged and cheap armor & weapon alike these men thought themselves above the law—as they dragged a family from their home under the guise of night and mutilated them these lowly cretins truly thought themselves invincible. However, little did these men realize that clad in the invisible shroud of the Kido Kyokko was an existence far greater than their own watching them… recording their grave sin in silence atop a lonely hill that overlooked the forest.
“…”
Itsuki clad in the dusky colored assassin garb of the Omnitsukido remained silent as he watched these bottom of the barrel men commit atrocity after atrocity, unable to move purely from commitment to the greater fulfillment of his mission. He was summoned here to discover the very thing that these Bandits thought—the endowed soul that caught the eye of even the Seireitei. Needless to say those of this village are more than unwilling to cooperate and so Itsuki has been drifting through the village veiled by his Kido for the last two days… watching and listening to every conversation from the intimate bedside whispers of those in love… to the bedtime stories a mother would read her child.
“I bear witness to your sin… Judgement will find you.”
Itsuki thought to himself, a silent but intoxicating fury burning in his big blue eyes. If Itsuki was not forcefully keeping tapered his force it would not be rare for the very ground to tremble—but in this moment his self-control and dedication to unraveling the mystery came first. Of course, once this mission has been fulfilled he plans to hunt these creatures like the game they are, for now though… he let them mutilate innocents under the assumption it was a necessary pressure.
The master investigator was confident in his skills but even he understood that the highly superstitious and hyper vigilant people of the 77th District needed to be pressured, he’d roamed through their village unable to identify the soul in question, truly absurd, and yet Itsuki was amused by this challenge these people who reject the Soul Reapers proposed to him.
“Hm?”
Atop the lonely hill that he perched himself on like a crow Itsuki watched… He watched the Bandits like a predator would their prey, and unimpressed by their lack of creativity he let out a heavy hearted sigh. Such a cliché message, such an expected action, and such a poor move to make. Itsuki almost felt bad for the leader of their pack, did he actually think he was smart enough to get away with this? Regardless, as the sky became stained with the red and orange hues of daybreak Itsuki flickered from his distant nesting spot to the heart of the village where the bodies were propped and strewn about like macabre festival decorations.
As the villagers began to flock under the rising sun to behold the horror that they turned a blind eye during the night, Itsuki listened. They argued among themselves. Some of the villagefolk even dared to grandstand about having to do something—yet what prevented them from acting when their neighbors bellowed and screamed for their dear lives? Itsuki’s gaze wandered from the arguing masses, settling upon the intimate scene of the family that had been impaled—wooden staves run through from their bottoms out the top of their skulls as if they were waiting to be cooked over a pit. It was… unsettling to see the horror of their final moments etched eternally into their otherwise lifeless faces, and yet this was something he had to witness… the repercussions to his inaction… This would remind him not only of the justice to be served but also—He was shaken from his inner monologue at the mention of that which the Soul Reapers could never know.
“No. We cannot surrender to the bandits. We cannot trust the Shinigami. We must fend for ourselves, defend ourselves, and keep our own secrets.”
Who said this? Who was a keeper of that which is untold? Itsuki pivoted upon his heel, and while invisible, he could still consider the mighty spinning motion to be excessively extravagant—regardless though his eyes fixated on the diminutive and hobbled figure of an elderly man. In his ghostly investigations while wandering invisible through this town Itsuki had established this man as the chieftain of the village.
“Ouin Kojima… Age 221… Conservative… Secretive… Mayoral…Dogmatic”
Itsuki recited the bare bones of the information he had collected on this man within his head, and with the confirmation by his own admission that he knows something that he certainly has not been sharing with other’s in public. Itsuki remained silent, decidedly letting the scene unfold to see where the threads of destiny will lead him.
“What do you suggest we do then, Kojima-dono?!”
The many who flocked around their leader cried out sheepishly, the apparent horror of being next on the list Bandits was overwhelming. Itsuki grimaced, a disgusted expression etched across his sharp featured face as these lowly people thought only of their own safety and benefit. It was times like these that Itsuki felt truly challenged to remain righteous to law and order; in a way, these people who ignored the cries of their neighbors were just as guilty as the bandits. They ignored them out of a selfish desire to stay alive… for what? To live in poverty? Itsuki began to grit his teeth as he continued to listen earnestly.
“We’ll meet in the Makaido Barnhouse in two hours to discuss these damn Bandits. NOW DISBURSE….Someone get rid of these corpses before they draw attention…”
Kojima barked at his cult-like following the first part, beginning to ramble into a whisper as he drew towards the end. Obviously the elderly man was shaken, but steadfast and true to his role as a leader, he obviously needed to remain a rock for his people. As the day progressed he directed villagers in the disposal process and performed what Itsuki could only assume was a local last rite and purification tradition. Yet he did not leave the town center for the duration of the two hours preceding the town meeting making it impossible for Itsuki to discern any information that may indicate the identity of this mystery bachelor that the Seireitei desperately wanted put in captivity.
Finally Kojima along with a great deal of villagers began to flock… of course Itsuki noticed several villagers were not scurrying along to the barn like mice to cheese, he easily identified their roles as look-outs and commended the vigilance and extraordinary lengths this village took to even implement a plain clothes guard system. It wasn’t even traditionally masculine men that filled this role, Itsuki could respect the cunning wit to employ children and women in the way obviously the wily and cunning Ouin had.
As the barn house began to fill Itsuki slipped in, simply drifting in with the masses unnoticed and jumping into the rafters to avoid any unsightly encounters.
The townsfolk stirred and chattered, their inaudible murmurs like the song of cicadas, as they filled rotted wooden benches that lined the barn in four rows. As the last of them took their seats, stuffed so close to each other that they felt and looked to be packed like canned salmon, he came forward… Ouin hobbling from the double wide barn doors that sealed shut from the outside towards the back end where a makeshift podium seemed well placed. As he passed each row… they fell silent, it was almost theatric and honestly too well choreographed.
“… Did these bumpkins rehearse this…?”
Itsuki began to ponder as a perplexed, borderline disturbed, look surfaced across his face. His eyes left Ouin though, he could predict his path; so instead he observed the townsfolk who seemed to almost idolize the elderly man. What made him so revered? Itsuki began to stroke his chin, listening and watching intently as the meeting finally seemed to begin.
“Ahem… I, Ouin Kojima, Chief of this township call this panel to order….”
Ouin began… he was such a frail and weak looking old man, yet when his wispy and labored voice began the townfolk seemed almost enchanted… Were they hypnotized or merely some cult-like cluster of fanatics? All of their eyes were on him, and it seemed as if they were edging on his every word. Itsuki couldn’t help but have his curiosity peaked, as someone with extraordinary detection ability he’s often noticed the subtle ebb and flow of foreign energies creating the guise of hypnotism and yet here and now he could feel nothing but fevered adulation and immense anxiety.
“As you all know… we had unwelcome visitors last night…”
Itsuki expected an uproar as Ouin began, it was only natural for the masses to riot when feeling wrong or endangered—yet their cries never rang. Instead they brewed silently, intense gazes seemingly ablaze with rage. Ouin, unaffected from their looks of fury, continued to speak… his own face somber… his own tone steadily rising.
“They took from us… They took… Part of OUR family…”
Ouin’s gnarled fingers curled into a shaky fist, slamming it down on the podium he stood before. The villagers nodding with vehement vigor as he continued.
“Some of you think we can’t handle these ruffians… That we need to bow our heads to our… oh so noble lords in black!”
Ouin spat on the floor as he finished his sentence, and Itsuki could tell from word and action that he wasn’t fond of the Soul Reapers. As Ouin continued, Itsuki shifted atop the beam he was on, now hanging from it like he was a bat—his feet seemingly anchored atop the beam preventing him from falling downwards into the dogpile below, having grown stiff he wanted to give himself a chance to stretch while being cooped up.
“We will not solicit our oppressors! Do you know when they remember us?! When WE owe THEM!”
Ouin’s pupils shrank almost three sizes as the white of his sclera became stained with strands of bright red. The man was an impressive orator, Itsuki couldn’t help but nod his head, not in agreement with the man’s sentiment but simply out of recognition of the leader knowing how to manipulate and work his crowd. It took a special type of person to fan the flames of fear and point the accusatory blade during an obviously fanatical speech, and obviously Ouin was this type of man.
As the speech rambled on for tens of minutes, Itsuki began to wonder with a twitching eye if they actually planned to say anything of substance rather than spew hateful and meaningless rhetoric. Finally though a silver lining came in the peculiar twist his speech took.
“We warned them when we killed their pig of a leader! If they do not leave, what will we do?”
Itsuki blinked several times as disbelief surfaced across his face. Surely he heard him wrong—but he knew he didn’t. As he regained his own composure the villagers chanted in a unified, almost war-cry like, bellow.
“WE WILL NOT HAVE MERCY!”
Ouin raised his hands, his liver spotted pale branches desperately wrangling and wiggling as he asked again, obviously goading the crowd.
“WE WILL WHAT?”
The elderly man was ablaze with a spirit that would be enchanting to Itsuki were his message not so maddening.
“WE. WILL. NOT. HAVE. MERCY!”
Truly, Itsuki was mystified. These people actually took care of the leader of these bandits? These were not warriors… they were farmers with no discernable spiritual pressure and as someone whose been watching them without their own knowledge he can almost guarantee that none of them have displayed any potential as a warrior these past few moons he stalked them.
The murmurs became rampant, the crowd obviously stirred to a tipping point by the ladle of Ouin’s intent. Yet they went silent went the man waved his hand, and he stepped away from his podium. His hands pressing down upon the wrinkled gown he wore. Obviously a ploy to humanize himself and display imperfections, a subtle but psychological move that did not go unnoticed. Ouin stood infront of the very podium he’d been behind for over an hour now.
“My fellow townsfolk… I shall talk with Momosuke and he shall slaughter these disgusting cretins who defiled our home.”
Momosuke? Itsuki had researched this Village’s estates, politics, local conflicts, and population thoroughly both in archive and live-time which is why he knows that the name Momosuke… That name was not one of someone currently in the village. In fact, as Itsuki recalled his research the only Momosuke in this particular village was… Ouin Momosuke—the only son of Ouin Kojima and someone who has been listed as deceased in public records for over several months. Something was seriously wrong here, and it honestly thrilled Itsuki. He’d had begun to lose interest in the case, starting to doubt if anyone was actually here that would pose a threat, and so renewed he decided he would follow Ouin Kojima to this mysterious hero-apparent who would solve their problems.
Perhaps Itsuki was too gung-ho though, as hours after the meeting had ended Ouin Kojima had yet to anything suspicious or meet with anyone questionable. He dissected every movement; analyzing every step that Ouin has taken and yet… It is hard to derive any serious information from an old man who has spent the last half hour now peeping at a local mother breastfeed. Though something did occur to Itsuki… He’s acting too normal. He noticed the vigilance of the other villagers, could this too be a ploy? Does he realize that he is being watched? Itsuki, who’d been watching Ouin from a distance until now flickered to the old man’s side—and then he allowed his spiritual pressure to be released and contained to a small radius; just enough to fit himself and Ouin in the scope of his power. A sudden relaxed expression washed over the old man confirming Itsuki’s suspicion… He was on guard this entire time, and now being subjected to the calming force of Itsuki’s power the man lost the edge that kept him sharp and careful.
Itsuki kept close to Ouin as the elder hobbled back with a skip in his step to the barn. Though he struggled the old man swung the great barndoors open and with a wide ear-to-ear smile made his way to the podium. Curious, Itsuki watched as Ouin suddenly pushed the podium cover to reveal a stone slab pressed into the ground like a makeshift sewer grate. It took only a moment though for Itsuki to realize that the stone was not a random cut stone shaped to be a lid—No, this stone was the infamous Sekkiseki mineral. The revelation of this rare mineral being here forced Itsuki’s eyes to narrow, and as his guard rose the hapless dolt Ouin in a stupor continued to shift around.
“Hoooh. One… Two… Three!”
Ouin reduced himself to a crouch, counting aloud as he clutched at a handle forged into the face of the stone. Surprisingly the old man had enough force to at least in increments of three nudge the lid a little. Of course already sedated to an almost extreme measure by Itsuki’s reiatsu the Shinigami figured it wouldn’t hurt to give the man some help, and so as Ouin braced himself for another insignificant nudge he marveled at the sudden burst of strength he displayed—literally wrenching the slab upwards and off.
“Wow! I guess those calisthenics are really starting to pay off! Gehehehe!”
The old man obviously was thrown off his rocker by Itsuki’s influence and couldn’t connect that while he was pushing to the side that the slab went in an entirely different direction then he intended. Though Itsuki did not mind that… what he did mind though was the sudden sickening and gut wrenching odor that burst into the room from the pit.
“What the fuck is down there?”
Itsuki thought, covering his nose and mouth with the backside of his elbow, obviously an attempt to prevent the stench from penetrating him any further. When he looked down into the pit he’d thought of many things he has regretted in this life. He regretted ever trusting a Fullbringer, he regrets writing that tacky poem for his Academy sweetheart, and now… He regretted looking into this bowel-like pit—a well that was aglow with the gentle flames of slow burning lanterns. Itsuki didn’t regret the strange decision to use lanterns in a secret well, what he did regret was seeing the rotting corpses of two men in what seemed to be a pool of… blood—at first glance he couldn’t even identify them, but when he focused his eyes and ignored his nausea he realized that one looked like a rotting and greatly deformed Momosuke and the other… He’d seen him but where?
“Momosuke! Are you and your friend hungry?”
Itsuki watched as Ouin hung happily over the edge of the pit, weirdly unaffected by the scent. He couldn’t help but wonder was it his reiatsu that lulled Ouin into such a relaxed mind that he did not care or was the aged lord used to this wretched odor? Regardless, this man was speaking to a corpse—did he could insane? Itsuki rattled his brain as he tried to figure out what was going on here. The gears of his brain would grind to a halt as suddenly from below a voice answered…
“Yes… Father…”
Those two words sent chills down Itsuki’s spine. Something unnatural was afoot, and he wasn’t having any inkling of a good feeling about this. Suddenly though… Itsuki realized something else was causing the hairs on the back of his head to stand… It was a force so immense that it felt like it was going to swallow him at any moment, such a lonely deep force… It wasn’t anything the seasoned Shinigami had ever felt.
“What on Reio’s green Soul Society is actually down there?!”
Itsuki didn’t even attempt to conceal his voice—blurting out his own hysteria in the moment, and even instantly regretting it. Fortunately, Ouin was so intoxicated by Itsuki that his rationality was no longer a component in this equation… Rather, Ouin responded rather helpfully to the voice whose origin he did not seem to question.
“Silly billy, Momosuke and that dumb little bandit are down there!”
Ouin beamed happily, oblivious to the machinations of whatever was truly down there. Itsuki though, could understand that whatever it was… it was not to escape here. It also dawned upon him… In his information he’d come across a discrepancy on the local bandit outfit… The young boy whose been leading them is a raven haired Caribbean child with eyes brown as amber… the Leader from his records on the area ten months ago mentioned a blonde haired Anglo-Saxon man with blue eyes… almost exactly like the rotting blonde corpse currently gurgling ungodly sounds in the pit next to apparently the reanimated Momosuke.
“Oh great star, set upon the eve of Creation and celebrate the dawn of Destruction. Two lovers dance but never touch. Two predators hunt but never feast. Return all to the ash from which the Heavens came. Hado # 54 Haien.”
Itsuki began to chant like a monk reciting a mantra. The words he spoke a personal incantation that he developed to engineer a particularly more potent but less immediate Haien. Of course Ouin himself seemed to think the voice without a form was singing and swung his head to and fro to a beat Itsuki dare not even try to imagine. As his last words sung out nothing happened. Though invisible Itsuki had his hand almost entirely closed into a fist, his pointer finger the only freed digit, pointed into the pit almost like he was accusing it of something.
“Spirits? Where are yo-“
Ouin began to ask as the room fell silent before falling quiet at the sudden apparition of a brilliant shimmering purple cluster of energy—like a small lavender ember that shone like a jewel in the dimly lit barn, the spark suddenly dripped like a tear down into the well. Fascinated Ouin craned his head to the side, watching it with the same awe and wonder a child does when seeing fireworks for the first time.
“Begone, unsaintly threats…”
Itsuki whispered, causing the smiling Ouin to turn away to look around, desperately trying to look for the source with an amused almost absent minded look across his worn face. As Ouin turned back though he’d see the long narrow pit was aglow with the pale purple flames of the Haien. While Ouin seemed amused, Itsuki was not. That was a spell powerful to incinerate a Gillian within moments and yet… that energy that spiraled down in the darkness seemed unaffected…
“Uh… Uh… Father… I’m hungry… Father…”
As their eerie voice groaned from the inferno pit Itsuki watched in horror as the flames seemed almost drawn downwards, being sucked into the corpses. Both of their loose jaws, seemingly held together by stringy and trembling tendons, dropping lower to welcome the feast they’d been given. Obviously Itsuki had miscalculated the nature of this threat.
“Oh Hell no.”
Itsuki snarled as he could see the creatures trying to climb the pit, licking at the lingering embers that singed the lining of the cavity they were housed in. Before they could reach the top though Itsuki would flicker in a blurring display of speed, and with a surprising herculean feat of strength lifted the great stone lid that once stilled this evil stew and barrel rushed over—as if slamming a swatter to flies Itsuki spared no lingering thoughts or hesitation as he sealed the wretched hole into the nightmare.
Itsuki then turned to the old man, his spiritual pressure beginning to quiver; a beast rousing to action after being dormant for so long. Even though he was shrouded in invisibility his pressure was crashing through Ouin like tidal waves of uncontrollable ecstasy; this happiness, it was not natural and now the old man could tell something was wrong. Something was wrong—but he couldn’t help but feel… Good? Itsuki was obviously overstimulating the aged leader who was now backed against the wall of the barn, his fingers grasping at the dirt as he tries to gain control of his own… self. Ouin cackled madly, like a clinically insane man who had finally been broken beyond repair.
“What is this pit?”
Itsuki asked coolly, and yet each word seemed double dipped in sensuality to Ouin.
“O-oh… It is our God… The Red River runs…”
Ouin began to stagger in breath, obviously his body overwhelmed by the rampant euphoria, and yet Itsuki could not leave this man be. The Red River is a location of ancient lore in the countryside of the Rukongai. Itsuki theorized it was something of an old wives tale, having similar aspects to it as the Greek mythos River of Styx. Yet it is said in the lore that this River runs with the blood of an ancient Hero that betrayed the Reio and his four noble clans.
“… Oh God…? It couldn’t be…”
Itsuki began to brace himself for the possibility of vomitting from stress as pieces began to fit together in this puzzle... and he wasn't liking the final image.
As someone whose researched a great number of things, and pieced together a great deal of information that would perhaps lead to his execution if discovered he has knowledge of… A location that runs red eternally… the positive lean towards the Four Noble Clans… Was the Red River of folktale actually a fragment of the Soul King that pools beneath the earth itself..?
Itsuki grasped his head, pulling back the black balaclava that had concealed his features until now—revealing his messy coppery hair, running his fingers through his mane and pushing it back as continued to speak to the elderly man who at this point had become so relaxed that he actually vacated his bowels and was drooling without a care.
“What do you mean? Explain.”
Itsuki was short, and his temper was growing shorter. He expected something of a child with great potential—He’d hope he was leading someone towards a better path… Instead he may be dealing with a fragment of their God who is going around spreading zombification.
“Ehehehehehehehehe”
Ouin giggled for several minutes, but then Itsuki began to recede the flow of his power, and Ouin would soon begin to regain some semblance of sanity.
“My sweet little peach went and got killed, he fell down the well, such a stupid boy… but he didn’t die! We were told to always keep the well shut aside from sending offerings but our King must have seen what a sweet boy my Momo was!”
There was a depraved almost broken look of awe and happiness, Itsuki could see that beyond the veil of smiles and joy this man would be forever tormented by this, and yet Itsuki remained silent, letting the man continue to rant.
“I was just crying… Crying right on that well when I heard his voice! It’d been months, I’d done gone thought I’d gone just about bonkers! He said he was hungry, what father wouldn’t want to feed their sweet boy? I quickly threw him a rope and he climbed up, covered in the red river that our ancestors told us to keep hush from the dumb Soul Reapers!”
Ouin giggled like a school girl, obviously still intoxicated enough to believe he was speaking to a voice in his head.
“But I admit, when I saw him all blood covered and rottin’, I sort of done freaked and pushed him back in! It took a few months but when those bandits started bothering us a month later, Momosuke said he could help us! I just had to feed him… the bandits! Two stones, one bird! Oh wait… I mean two birds, one stone! Gehehehehehe!”
Ouin began to shiver and shake, was he going into withdrawal from the sudden cut off to the sweetest drug in the Soul Society?
“…Does the entire village know about this ‘Red River’ and Momosuke?”
Itsuki considered his words carefully… They rolled off his tongue with the precision and tact that he would use when wielding a sword. Ouin’s answer would be the deciding factor in Itsuki’s decision on handling this… situation.
“Wha? Silly goose! Everyone knows! Weren’t you listen-”
Before he could sputter out those last words, his eyes would roll back. Ouin was dead, and not by any miscalculation. This village was guilty of concealment and conspiracy against the state. They were sitting on a biological hazard that equated to a nuclear silo and intended to continue to do until they decided to rebel—and with the revelation of creating frenzied monsters that can absorb kido? Itsuki had to… cleanse this land for the greater good. It was a heavy sin that he would burden, but he could not risk any villager accessing that well or spreading the knowledge of it.
Itsuki released a wave of his spiritual pressure, a sense of pleasantness like a warm summer breeze or a mother’s embrace consuming the people. One by one while clad in his light bending Kyokko he swept from home to home, silently slaughtering the people who as a society posed a threat. He let them spend their final moments in joy, as he silently cast Haien on them. His spiritual pressure’s pleasuring abilities disarming them enough to prevent much resistance, and those who did… before they could scream would have been greeted by the lancing of Itsuki’s finger through their throat.
It took only ten minutes for Itsuki to slaughter the townsfolk and obliterate their remains with Haien. It was truly unfortunate but… it had to be done. This would be the village that never was… but Itsuki was not done. Someone knew of this remote village that he was erasing… A certain group of Bandits who got caught with their pants down.
They had a small encampment in the surrounding thicket of towering elm trees, and as Itsuki approached clad in his Kyokko he couldn’t help but grimace; the Cheshire like grin of his in full glory as this was a punishment he would enjoy… These people tortured and tormented because they themselves were made a victim by their own victims. Such vanity ridden things… Such pathetic creatures…
“I found you…”
Those soft words boomed through the forest with surprising magnitude. The leader, or de facto leader, was sitting around a meager firepit drinking sake from a cheap clay jug when he heard those chilling words, his skin crawling as a sudden warm breeze wafted through the woodlands and bathed him as the others who
“Hey! Any one else here tha-“
As he spoke the leader, whose name Itsuki did not even care to learn, looked around to gather his troops only to realize… no one was at their post. Moments ago they stood there, but now… their gone. Another breeze barreled towards him and in the time it took the bandit to blink… the young and gangly leader would witness at his feet suddenly the heads of his backwoods soldiers. A twelve in total that had their hair braided together to create an almost artistic horror. Once his eyes would rise though… he’d see standing before him the stealth uniform clad Itsuki whose face was once more covered… all the Bandit could see would be the brilliant pale blue eyes that burned with a fury almost ungodly.
“Who-”
Before he could even finish is sentence Itsuki waved his hand… and so the leader fell to his knees as he alone was forced to bear the burden of Itsuki’s mighty reiatsu. His bones began to splinter and his veins crack like glass; his feeble body was being forced into the great maelstrom of destruction and no matter how badly he sought to cry… this boy in broken down and ratty armor could only laugh. Itsuki stripped him of the right of sorrow, he would die knowing he could not control his destiny. He would die for thinking he was above the order and safety of this world.
“May his Greatness reincarnate you… far beyond my reach.”
As Itsuki spoke, his voice a dull monotone, his hand pointed at the collected heads that the leader had slunk over and without a second glance obliterated the remaining evidence of their existence, and then… Itsuki slunk off into the darkness, planning to report his findings to the Central 46.
