The forest was filled with the din of heavy rain. Through the trees, figures in black sped, seeming to flash in and out of existence as they raced towards their target. Thunder cracked deafeningly; lightning lit up the sky with a hauntingly pale glow.
A roar sounded in the distance, like a thousand screams piercing the air, like every sound of agony and hatred ever uttered.
The head figure stopped short, his sandled feet planting in the muddy ground of the dirt path. The pouring rain had plastered his raven hair to his head, and water traced three parallel scars as it ran in rivulets down his face.
Another figured stopped beside him. This one was considerably larger than the leader, with a topknot, sideburns, and thick moustache. Unlike his predecessor, who stared stoically – maybe even a little boredly – ahead, his beady eyes as wide as they seemed to be able to get.
"Lieutenant Hisagi," he started, and if the leader noticed the tremor in his voice, he didn't bother mentioning it, "what was that?"
Shuuhei didn't so much as glance over at the other man, nor at the dozen or so other shinigami that had fallen in behind him. His gaze was fixed on the dark swirl of clouds before them, and his face was set firmly.
"That, Toshimori, was the sound a hollow makes when it's found its prey," he said, and that was all the explanation he gave before taking off yet again. He couldn't afford to waste time; there was a Squad Seven patrol in the area that had reported the disturbance, and from the sounds of those roars, they might need reinforcements.
The roars grew louder, but Shuuhei didn't hesitate. No, he pushed harder, ran faster, and as he broke into the clearing and laid eyes on the haze of white faces, the air was pierced by a cry.
"Reap, Kazeshini!"