Members of the Kidō Corps stand guard; voiceless, motionless, in silent overwatch. Their form, posture and discipline all immaculate appearing more like colored statues than living, breathing souls. More than an hour ago, a member of the Twelfth Division had passed through the Senkaimon, the coordinates for its destination set for the Valley of Screams.
Another prospective Captain, they thought.
Though uttering no words, they couldn’t help but wonder which of the Captains would be chosen to oversee this particular examinee. Nearly an hour later, the Phantom of the Seireitei touches ground before them. Silent as always, and though surprised by his abrupt arrival they remain steadfast, immobile. As he passes through the Senkaimon he offers no word, and does not spare the guards even a single glance in his passing through the gates.
What ill deed had this examinee committed, to be condemned to such a fate? Forced to be tested by the traitorous snake that was Captain Mokuro. They were still lost on how the man still drew breath, let alone was allowed to continue donning the Captain’s haori. Of all the souls in the Seireitei, and all the Captains amongst the Gotei 13, Captain Mukuro was undoubtedly the most untrustworthy of them all, or so they thought.
Regardless, it was not their place to cast judgement. Their duty was to oversee the Senkaimon, not to speculate, ponder and gossip. Their minds emptied once more of idle thoughts, and their vigilance returned to their surroundings.
Nearly thirty minutes later, the Senkaimon stirs to life. A single crease appears within the center of the conjured Shōji, parting ways as the door opens, baring a second door just beyond the first.
The second door opens, and a single Jigokuchō flutters out. The watchmen of the Senkaimon, stand their guard, not surprised or bothered by the time between the two parties exit and their return, knowing how much time is displaced in that world beyond their own. Following the exit of the Jigokuchō comes another item.
THUD
A single severed arm is propelled from the still open Shōji, colliding and rolling along the ground.
THUD, THUD
Another arm is tossed out, followed by a waist with legs attached. The quiet and disciplined statuesque guards are forced to break character, caught unaware by this unexpected macabre scene they’re jolted backwards, eyes fixed on the collective limbs scattered along the grounds before the Senkaimon. They panic, uncertain on how to act, on what and how to report this particular incident.
Still gripped by the scene before them, their focus strayed from the Shōji doors not yet closed, the sight of Captain Mukuro stepping out is lost to them. It's only the sound of dragging that snaps the guards from their gruesome stupor, heads turn to witness Kyomu dragging a limbless Nozamu by his kimono with his left hand, right arm resting almost lazily on the handle of his zanpakuto.
They stare, horrified at the scene before them, and inadvertently swallow, their imaginations now running wild on just what could have transpired in the the Valley of Screams.
”Cough, Cough, HACK!”
The sounds of someone coughing up a lung or two breaks the silent tension.
A young man with a head of raven and a noticeable scar along his left cheek stands several feet before both parties, beating his chest as he struggles to draw breath, lips refusing to relinquish their hold on the cigarette trapped between them.
He holds up a hand, cuing for all present to give him a moment to collect himself. His face is flushed as he struggles to breathe before finally, the episode meets its end. He stands up right and runs a single hand through his hair. He looks to the Kidō Corps, eyes then traveling to the scattered limbs along the ground, his gaze then shifting towards a dismembered Nozamu supported only by Kyomu’s grip.
He blinks once
He scratches his chin, then blinks again
He reaches into his sterile robes, fishing around almost frantically before retrieving his handy dandy Denreishinki X, showing the screen towards all present before him, pointing towards it.
”I uh, got a message to come here to pick up something?”
He speaks casually, unmoved by the gruesome scene. As a member of the Twelfth Division and member of the Research and Development Institution, seeing body parts laid about was nothing new to him.
Kyomu glances at the man for a moment, before carelessly flinging Nozamu his way.
”Here”
As always, the Captain is a man of few words. The young scientist is caught off guard, and hurries to put up the small device, arms raising to catch his thrown superior. The physical ordeal forces the man’s breathing to grow labored once more, beads of sweat trickling from his brow and forehead.
”He asked for discretion upon returning to your barracks. I leave the task to you.”
Saying all that he had to, or at least cared to say, he finally glances towards the guards of the Senkaimon. He turns on his heel and begins to walk away, his form growing more and more transparent with each casual step taken.
The raven haired intern is now left with the ordeal of safely escorting Nozamu and his respective limbs back to their barracks as discreet as possible.
How unlucky could he be
