Author's Note: A little mood piece written for the LJ Comm band_of_seven's April Easter/Passover challenge. Every holiday is an excuse for fanfic, ne? Jizo is a Japanese deity known, in part, for comforting souls in hell. He provided a handy point of view for considering the period between Bankotsu's death and rebirth.
Exodus by Salome-sensei
"I was the youngest but the leader. My body so strong, mind so sharp. My brothers followed willingly and my enemies fell at my feet. When I try, I can still feel my halberd in my hand…"
Jizo nodded his head slowly, a faint, soothing smile on his generous mouth. It was always the same with this one. The same story, or fragments thereof. Highlights of what he still saw as his strengths, though they had led him here. Mortal life clung to him tightly, so tightly that he could not take comfort. His aura bespoke a longing not to understand himself or to grow, but to be exactly who he had been in his short, violent life. Transition, freeing of his soul from hell and bringing him to the shining beauty of reincarnation was impossible as yet. And yet there was something that kept Jizo returning to him, time and again, to hear his tale and to try to bring connection, consolation, and peace.
There came a time, however, when a shift did occur. Jizo listened as his soul poured forth its familiar refrain of a mercenary's greed for life and lust for power. And a glimmering node shone within the center of his aura. This was not the promise of soul-release, Jizo knew, and yet some change was beginning. The soul was being claimed, not by divinity but by some dark force—mortal and demon combined in some unholy alliance that Jizo's godhood brushed with reluctance. A soul even blacker than that of the mercenary. He found peace with it: this soul, too, would one day need his all-forgiving aid in the realm of hell. But that was another destiny, not far off but not of this moment. The strange hanyou soul was close enough for Jizo's immortal touch only because it was reaching into the afterlife to claim the mercenary from him.
Very well. The ever-changing direction of the flow of existence and non-existence, even its interruption, was right, was necessary. He felt the glow of a shard of a sacred jewel that both belonged and did not belong to his realm. It met the mercenary's troubled soul and lifted it out and beyond his reach. Jizo bowed to the inevitable and continued his path.