1942
Junichi leaned over the edge of the warship, allowing the wind to sooth his skin. This war was slowly grinding on his determination, even more so with the losses the Japanese fleet had suffered in recent months.
His thoughts were always on turning back home these days, alone as he was on the ocean with his battered ship and fellow crew. A faint smile traced his lips as he thought of Aiko, the beautiful young woman who was waiting for him back home. She had promised… when he returned, when the war was over…
He remembered distinctly the last time he had seen her. His parents, his little brother, they were there too. His father had been so proud, Koichi had been trying to be proud, too, but barely able to keep the waver out of his voice when they said farewell. His mother had nearly crushed him with her hug, and Aiko had just stood there and smiled through her tears.
When you return… she had promised. And he had promised to return. He'd never rest if he died in this war, and he was determined not to let that happen. He'd survive and come home to her, see her smile again, touch her face…
He would not let himself face the grim truth. The Japanese Empire was losing their part of this war.
The United States had beaten the Imperial Fleet in numerous clashes on the ocean, and there was always the danger of enemy aircraft sinking a Japanese ship before they even engaged the opposing ships. The danger facing Junichi was very real. He just won't let himself acknowledge it.
I will come home to you, Aiko.
...
Aiko knelt down at the shrine, pressing her hands together and bowing her head. The same phrase repeated itself again and again in her head, the same one she had been praying for two years.
Bring my Junichi safely back to me.
Sometimes there were different versions of the same prayer, sometimes she added a little bit at the end, sometimes she simply said him, but each day it was the same.
Bring him back to me.
Bring him back safe.
Bring Junichi home again…
She knelt at the shrine until the sun began to set behind her, and as the shadows crept away from the shrine she stood up and walked back down the path towards the city. She wondered for a moment, looking out at the ocean that hid him, if it really mattered, but then she shook her head hard and kept walking. She had to believe that her prayers meant something, that they were reaching him somehow and giving him strength, that the spirits were watching over him. Otherwise, it was nothing she could do for him.
Koichi was waiting for her at the base of the hill, the young man looking slightly awkward in the gathering dusk. He escorted her to and from the shrine each day, even though he was a bit of a scardy-cat. He was always worrying about Yokai, and despite the fact they had never encountered one he still worried. It touched her, every time, that he would come despite his fear to make sure she was safe.
"Thank you," she would say, and Koichi would chuckle.
"I couldn't have Jun-nii come home and find out you were eaten by a Yokai. He'd kill me."
Koichi was convinced his brother was coming back. Aiko had never meet anyone else so completely deluded that everything would work out for everyone, just so long as they were careful. His unwavering faith made her feel better as they walked slowly back home.
1945
Junichi looked down at the city that had once been his home. A hard knot in his chest and throat made every breath painful, and his vision blurred as tears again threatened.
He couldn't stop them, not this time. He had when he had first heard the news, certain that there had to be a mistake. It couldn't be gone, it wasn't possible. The cities had been safe from the war, it was the soldiers who were at risk, who would die. Not civilians.
Not their families.
The tears spilled down his cheeks, tracing paths in ash and dust that had settled over him. He stood in the ruin of Hiroshima, regardless of the warnings. The deadly explosion that had torn his family and heart from him had occurred… weeks ago? Was it only weeks ago? But there was danger of radiation still, however long ago it might have been. He didn't care. Aiko was dead, Koichi was dead, his parents were dead…
Aiko was dead.
His scream of agony rose from the ruined city, heart-wrenching and harsh. Tears dripped into the ash beneath him, turning it dark.
He hadn't cried for years. Pain didn't phase him, not even when his arm had been ruined in battle on the Philippine Sea. But the pain from this loss was of a scale he had never faced, and he couldn't bear it. He knelt in the ashes of his old life, the life where he had had a woman he loved, a family that cared about him, and cried his heart out.
All of it, gone. In one, horrible instant.
Such destruction was beyond the realm of mankind. It shouldn't exist.
...
Junichi died of starvation and the infection from his poorly amputated arm less then a week later, still kneeling in the center of Hiroshima where the bombing had taken place. He was hardly aware he had died, he merely spent another sleepless night alone with his broken heart and ailing body, and the next morning the sun came up to reveal his slumped body on the ground, a broken chain trailing from the chest of his hunched, weeping soul. Other people surrounded him, other victims of the attack that had been unable to pass on. And above them black-robed warriors battled fiercely with white-masked monsters, desperately trying to protect the crying souls below.
I'll wait for you.
The memory finally returned to him as he realized what had happened. He looked at his body, looked around at the spirits all around, and hope bloomed in his heart for a moment.
I'll be here when this war is over.
She had died here, his parents had died here, and so had he. And here he was.
I'll be here…
"Aiko…" he breathed, and stood, despite the difficulty he had breathing and moving. His chain swayed as he carefully began to make his way through the scattered spirits, looking desperately for the one he needed, more then anyone else, to see again.
See again… speak to again… touch again…
Slowly, as he continued walking and searching, his breathing began to come easier, and movement became less difficult. He was glad for this, it would be hard enough finding one person in this wide crowd of some thousands, he didn't need more handicaps. He hardly noticed that his arm was back now, or that he didn't feel hungry or weak any more. He simply searched.
And searched.
The battle continued to rage above him, and down on his level wandering souls continued to cry and wail and scream. But some, like him, were simply moving through the crowd, the determination in their eyes mirroring his own.
Time no longer seemed to matter, and he quickly lost track. He didn't notice the chain dangling from his chest gradually shrinking, dissipating away like ash on the wind. The only thing Junichi could think about was finding Aiko.
Even when the weeping around him turned to screams, accompanied a horrible, echoing roar.
"Run away? Is that all you ants can think about? Running to save your pathetic lives? You're hardly worth eating like this!"
Junichi turned as the souls began scattering around him, and at each one he spared a glance to see if it might be Aiko. But she wasn't there… still not there…
"I won't let you harm them!"
"Think you can stop me, Shinigami?"
Where was she… where was she?!
He hardly acknowledged the fight, didn't even notice when the white-masked monster knocked the Shinigami out of the air and crushed the life out of him.
"Aaaah… that feels like a much tastier emotion. Not fear… what is that? Dedication? Ooo, I like this one."
Junichi stumbled as something slammed into his back, knocking him to the ground. His hair flopped in front of his eyes, but he couldn't move… there was something holding him down, pinning his arms to his sides. He struggled as something horribly dry and scaly, but covered in tiny burrs, crawled under his hair and shirt to rest on his spine.
Then he did scream, as whatever it was stung him a thousand times with burning needles.
"Oh, yes, oh yes! You truly are a determined fellow, aren't you. What are you thinking? Aiko? Aiko… a girl? What delicious emotions you have for her! Yes, you were definitely a good pick."
"Get off of me!" he screamed, his struggling tearing the skin on his back as the sharp spines dug into him. "Let me go!"
"When you are so tasty? Never. Besides, there's no point. You're not going to find her here."
That caught his attention. Still face-down, unable to see the thing pressing him into the dirt, he asked, "What do you mean?"
"Isn't it obvious? I already ate her."
Junichi froze.
"And she was a delicious meal as well. Full of emotion. Shall I tell you what her final thoughts were? She kept crying out for someone named Koichi. She was fearful she would never be able to admit how much she loved him, that she would never see him again. Koichi… is that you?"
Junichi was trembling, pain and betrayal searing through him. It's lying, it's lying, it has to be lying!
"It seems you aren't. What a shame, what a shame. Oh, but I do so like this new emotion of yours. Anger… I don't often taste it from my prey. Most common is fear, a truly boring emotion. No, I like this one."
"You killed her…"
"Ah, is it at me you direct this rage? How amusing. By all means, keep hating me."
The echoing words were accompanied with a deeper dig on the spines, but this time it wasn't that pain that made Junichi cry out again. It was the tearing, writhing, deadly teeth that were biting into his chain, grinding it to pieces. He could feel it as it disappeared, link by link. He could no longer hear the words of the monster above him, couldn't really hear anything over his screams.
The bomb killed her…
This thing ate her…
She loved Koichi…
...
The Hollow was happily drinking in the surge of emotion from its victim, enjoying every detail of it with an almost drunken glee. So it didn't notice the sudden rise in reiatsu, or the change in pitch of the scream. It did, however, notice when his victim suddenly disintegrated under its tentacled appendage.
"Eh?"
A Shinigami felt the sudden pressure and looked down, eyes widening as he spotted the familiar white spiritual particles began to gather some distance away. He knew, as did all Shinigami, that this was the final stage of some unfortunate Plus becoming a Hollow. He glanced back at his companions, darting here and there as they fought off the vulture-like Hollows, and jumped down to take care of this.
If we don't get more reinforcements, more and more innocent souls are going to end up like this one. This entire thing is a tragedy like none I've seen…
...
Betrayal.
Anger.
Hatred.
The Hollow roared as he lashed his long tail from side to side, the emptiness inside him demanding he find something to fill it. More then that, though, a notion had come to him. He was very, very angry, and nothing would solve that like bringing down the same destruction that had torn his life away on someone else.
He spotted his first prey some distance away, and from the feeling of rage that surged through him he figured that other Hollow would make satisfying prey.
He roared again, running cat-like across the dry, dead ground. The monstrous Hollow he had targeted looked up in surprise as he barreled into it, sinking all four claws into its hide and tearing into it as he scrambled up onto its back.
"Wha-"
With a single bite, he found his opponent's spine through its hide and gripped it in his strong jaws. Growling, he ripped it out.
Satisfying, but not enough.
He pounced onto his screaming prey's head, burying his claws into its white mask. He snarled as he tore it free, shattering it into pieces. A moment later, he had torn out its throat with his teeth
Still not enough.
He jumped off the other Hollow's disintegrating body to be faced by a black-robed Shinigami. He could practically feel the determination pouring from the Shinigami's eyes and sword.
Not enough.
The Shinigami may have had determination, but the Hollow had the driving will, no, the need to destroy.
His need was stronger then this mediocre attempt at determination.
The cat-like Hollow tore through the Shinigami that had tried to kill him, and then onward, hunting the screaming souls around him as if they were mice. With each kill, he grew more and more dissatisfied. They weren't satisfying him. None of them were.
Instinct took over. He ripped a hole in the sky, opening into the blackness beyond. The other Hollows, weaklings, all of them!, were still fighting the Shinigami for the vulnerable souls down in the blast site. He didn't care to join them. It didn't matter. However long he stayed there, he couldn't satisfy the need for destruction that was haunting him. He needed something greater then the weak little prey available here.
He needed more power.
He wasn't sure where he was going in this grey desert he found himself in, but he could feel the opponents here. They were stronger, at least. That made him smile, an expression that parted his pointed teeth in an especially unnerving way.
And Grimmjow darted off into the depths of Hueco Mundo, tail lashing behind him, to rain down destruction on whomever, or whatever, crossed his path.