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The Captain’s body becomes a visceral, savage weapon. Had it not been for the verdant barrier that was conjured before him—around him—his onslaught against the spawn from hell would have been incapable of discrimination. His allies would have no doubt been condemned to the same fate as the Togabito. The image of its body torn asunder, Split into pieces as the enemy’s clothes try their very best to hide the mess. Anyone peering through would really only see a bloodbath. The Shining Commander finds his armor tainted, specks of blood and entrails paint him from head to toe. He stands idly, inspecting the corpse but does not display the slightest inkling of care for the life he has abruptly brought to an end. The plated gauntlets of his shikai vanish in a cloud of sparkling dust, blinding to the sight—his now untethered fingers reach upward to pull remnants of the hellspawn’s guts from their resting position on the Captain’s bare chest and back. A look of disgust encompasses his expression like a stain unable to be washed away. The barrier flickers for a moment, its integrity in tact still but it was clear it was withstanding a fair amount of force and trauma. Unknowingly, Higen lets out a conflict-ending exhale. The breath rolls over his lips like a quiet wave against shallow sand. It is gentle, comforting, and like the clearing sky of Naruki it is a symbol of reverence. Their endurance was in full display—the shinigami had prevailed, as they always would. Higen almost reaches to release the barrier, as Yū and Shoumetsu do their absolute best to finish dealing with the gates of hell. Just before he can, the sky goes dark. There is not a swarm of clouds, nor did the red hue that formerly tainted the atmosphere return. There is a static scream, a howl of some kind, a guttural call of arrival from a deep dark place. In the distance the sky above begins to stretch, contort, before peeling back. Like the gaping maw of a wild creature, a garganta opens between a bed of clouds. It stretches outward, before opening entirely across the sky, acting as a gateway for any foul enemy that chose to traverse through the dimensions. Higens molars grind against one another in frustration, his fists balling by his side as his beard sways with the shaking of his head from becoming furious.
It is in this very moment he recalls the Garganta that opened in Soul Society before his departure. This is all too coordinated, there is no way this is all happenstance. Just as he had felt before, there was someone or some thing pulling the strings—he was just unsure as to what or who. There is a silence in the air as Higen awaits the new arriving enemy with his allies who were just outside of his barrier. There is a noise, it grows louder, bellowing through the atmosphere as if being broadcasted through a loud speaker.
Here it comes... it’s... it’s Blood!?
Higen’s eyelids separate as his sclera almost escape his sockets. There is only a single drop at first, before endless waves of blood pour down into the Naruki streets. The roads, already damaged from the previous conflict find themselves submerged in an ocean of blood. The blood itself corrodes, destroys, consumes. Higen watches from the inside of his barrier as the city he has been responsible for becomes victim to yet another travesty.
Muffled screams and the breaking down of both metal and cement alike create a symphony of destruction and turmoil from beyond the barrier. The barrier itself holds steady. But as it is submerged by the massive tidal wave, the area around it crumbles and becomes next to nothing. There are few words to explain the feeling, few words to justify the emotions he felt in an otherwise emotionless job. He was a soldier through and through, yet his reaction to this day, and to these events, Appealed to and tested the humanity of his nature. ———
This image, like many others—is muddied by the procedure performed against him just the day before. His head, previously like a puzzle of a million pieces shaken and discombobulated, finds solace now. An untimely side effect being that just a few, sparse moments about a week leading up to the procedure, fade out into a distant haziness in the banks of his memory. A shadow is cast against a parqueted floor—the flickering flame of a wall lantern forces it to dance beneath the inconspicuous light. Against green hair, streaks of orange from the fire illuminate a both fine and familiar facial mane. It stretches downward along the trimming of his shikashuhou as His Haori remains draped beyond his shoulders. Making no use of its sleeves, they simply sway in the draft, unimportant. His head of hair was enough to have him perceived as a madman. Wild, unkept, it stretches down his back untamed. Only a single sound can be heard in the room, the tapping of his left index finger as his forearm rests against the arm of the throne. There he sat, on this throne. It was from this very chair that Shobatsu Murosaki cast his judgment on his former lieutenant turned Captain. It was here where his words pierced an impenetrable armor, where they caused an unstoppable force to halt in its tracks—to freeze in place, and soon after left Captain Kagayaki with the anger of his predecessor’s scolding, all while unleashing him against his comrades. It was on that same day, that Captain Maho Kojima lost both his honor, and his life; a death among many that Higen has not yet had the opportunity to mourn. A death of a friend, a comrade, a soldier. That same day.. that same dreadful day, where blood rained down upon the citizens of the rukongai; where the Captain Commander was stripped of his youth, and forced by a hand no other than his own to live out his sentence in Muken. Shihoken’s Amethyst flames burn vibrantly in the Knight’s vision, a sight never to be forgotten. The way the flames wavered as the blade stood titanically in the Captain’s hall, supplying the only bit of light for those within. The way they burned against Shobatsu’s flesh, robbing him of both his age and wisdom.
Higen rises from this throne, taking the steps to escape this wretched room, beneath his breath and through the tuft of his beard you can hear the grumbling of an old, frustrated veteran. As the massive doors sway about, the vacuum of the swinging wood and metal sends a gust of wind that inflates the interior of the Captain’s Haori. As the coat sways, revealing a deep green in its inseam, his hair also sways in response, revealing what was formerly covered by his emerald locks: the Jūbantai insignia. From this example alone it became clear where Higen’s heart lies. Despite the chair in which he sat, everything else felt out of place. He was no commander. This was not a job that he ever intended on taking, shoes he never intended to attempt to fill. He went from overseeing the operations of Tenth Division, to overseeing the operations of the entire Gotei 13, in a matter of days. His supporting cast was sound, though. Honoka, a life long friend— Akarui, perhaps a step more. Shinigami who had spent a majority of their careers managing both 1st Division, and many of the other Divisions’ affairs. They kept the Knight grounded, and secure in the job that landed in his lap unintentionally. It did not feel right, to don the Haori of the same man, and mentor, they had given Higen so much. It was Higen, who had to carry out the official executive order of Shobatsu’s sentencing in the absence of C46. He could only stomach so much betrayal. The affect of Shobatsu’s youth being restored could have muddied some of the former Commander’s thoughts. How would he perceive his one and only student? Would the commander view Higen as a usurper? Would he challenge him if the day would ever arise? Thoughts corrupt the Captain’s mind like a deadly plague, spreading like wildfire and planting the seeds of preparation.
While his frame is statuesque, his steps mimic that of the phantom’s, albeit not remotely close in the actual erasure of his presence. He moved lightly as if unwilling to disturb the many working bodies that had accumulated in the Seireitei’s central district over the last few days. Despite his hardest efforts, the Knight cannot go unnoticed. Many shinigami spot him visually, while simultaneously becoming aware of his natural presence. They bow, some salute, the clamoring of a few announcing the Commander’s presence is perhaps the most noticeable action. He ignores it all. His head does not even shift on the swivel that it his neck. It remains stagnant, staring off into the distance towards an area that he knows the precise amount of paces from point A to B it takes to reach his destination. He knows because he counted them. In his head, as the blade of the commander flew towards the compound, and Higen followed it so—each stride he took was a permanent numerical figure in his head. How fast could he get there? Could he prevent what was going to happen, what had already happened? The answer a resounding no.
As he approaches the compound’s entrance, the crowd of shinigami thickens. It now encompasses both the 1st Division cleaning crew as well as the 6th Division investigators. There are specimen boxes, quarantined off as evidence on carts prepared to head to both 6th and 12th Division for processing, Large sections of the many roads and small cobblestone pathways that lead to the moat-like area remain sectioned off by investigation tape. The main entrance, however, remains clear—as the interior of the compound has been swept clean for the arrival of the
new C46 members. These elected officials from the many districts of the Rukongai were the next group of individuals to carry out and enforce and enact the many laws that governed their very society. This was no normal coronation; no, it was one that could define the very structure of Soul Society for centuries beyond. As Higen approaches the only small surface entrance to the massive underground compound, the doors separate for him to enter. As he descends the stairs, his steps echo throughout the massive spiraling corridor, repeating a few times over as they fall to the depths of the facility. It isn’t until he reaches the amphitheater-like meeting room that he comes to a stop. The image of all the dead c46 members flashes before him, their torso’s caved in and dug out completely. Shobatsu’s wounded body flashes next, a sight that he had never once seen before. And now the man rots in a cell. Higen’s relationship with the former, corrupt C46 was not one to be envied. The innate abilities of his zanpakuto alone caused friction, fear, and distance between the Captain and his overseers. Perhaps these new representatives, citizens of the Rukongai, remember Higen as the hero who saved the districts, and Soul Society, from the wrath of the Kototsu. Their perception of him was a mystery, soon to be discovered.
Here he stood, awaiting their arrival, the 1st Division escort remained outside of the compound and stretched several miles from its entrance, thoroughly guarding the new C46 during their travels. They would be met by protection, and then inevitably, sanctioned into their jobs with a meeting with the current Commander. His eyes close, no need to see the interior of this compound for a moment longer than necessary, he practices the virtue of patience. Hopefully, their arrival was near.
