I never knew that such pain existed in the world of the living. As I looked down on the raider's sword that protruded from my chest, I wondered what I had done wrong. What had I done to displease the gods? As the blade was withdrawn and my life poured forth from the gaping wound I knew that all would be made clear soon enough.
I lay there, forgotten, for how long I could not say. In that time I allowed rise to feelings of hate and of vengeance. I felt as though something was being ripped from the centre of my being. I battled with this side of myself for what seemed like an eternity.
I watched as the course of the world around me changed. Villages were built and then razed. Babies were born and important men were murdered. Wars were fought and empires rose and fell. I, however, remained affixed. That is, until the height of the Meiji Revolution; when the Shinigami were at their busiest.
One morning, after a particularly fierce battle, I noticed one that stood out from the rest of us. He wore a black robe and carried a sword, and he was walking amongst us. I felt the rage boil inside of me as he neared; the wrenching feeling in my chest grew stronger. I curled tightly into a ball and hid my face as it shifted to that other side of me.
"Do what you came to do, quickly!" I shouted.
I felt the butt of a sword hilt press against my forehead and a warming sensation pervaded my entire body; followed by a terrible feeling of being torn to pieces. Then, I knew no more.
"Like it or not that's my story."
"Well, ya still aint gettin in. Your name aint on this list." The large man waved a hefty scroll in the new arrival's face. "So that leaves me wid two thoughts. Either yer lyin about who ya are, tryin tah avoid the lower districts, or yer a Rioka. So which are ye?"
"I'm Hatakane Shinya; nothing more, nothing less."
The defiant young man that stood before the Gatekeeper was a cobalt-haired moderately built man who had obviously seen much conflict. His one hundred-eighty centimeter seventy-five kilogram frame was festooned with vicious scars; some, undeniably, mortal. The sleeveless open-chested jacket he wore did little to disguise them. He was proud of the wounds he had sustained and that told the gatekeeper that, despite his calm outward appearance, he would not hesitate to kill him.
The air grew thick between them as the pair stared each down in silent defiance of the other. Suddenly, a thoroughly confused expression plastered itself across Shinya's face.
"Do you hear bells?"
"Bells?" The Gatekeeper questioned him, equally confused. "Yer jes as mad as ye seem aint'cha?"
"Nah, he's pretty sane from what I can see." Came a gravelly voice from behind the Gatekeeper. He whirled around to come nose-to-nose with a deeply scarred eye patch-wearing visage. The huge man squeaked in fright and stumbled away from the new arrival, tripping over his words with just as much grace.
"Z…Z…Z…Zaraki-taicho!"
"He goes to Eightieth Rukongai. Him and the other one. Yamamoto's orders."
Again the Gatekeeper looked completely lost,
"The…other…one?"
"Excuse me, sir…" Came a meek voice from behind Shinya.
"I think he means me."
Hatakane turned to face a complete double of himself. A massive scythe appeared, as if from thin air, in his right hand. It was two-toned along the blade with heavy metal rings lining the top. Four small bells on crimson threads dangled from the butt of the handle. Zaraki raised an eyebrow,
O-ho! We have a winner!
Shinya swung the scythe so that its point hovered centimeters from his doppelganger's neck.
"Who the hell are you?"
"Hatakane Toshiya." He answered weakly, averting his eyes so as not to meet Shinya's ferocious glare.
"For a seasoned warrior, you sure are acting like a damned child! Report to Eightieth Rukon!"
The force of his words caused both of them to hang their heads for a second. Shinya recovered first; grunting dismissively he swung the vicious scythe over his shoulder; as the rings beat against the blade without a sound Zaraki raised his brow yet again,
Like mine, huh?
"Hey, kid! You comin'?" Shinya asked, looking over his shoulder.
"Uh…hai!"
"I've heard Eightieth Rukongai is pretty rough. Stick with me, you'll do alright. Oh, and Zaraki-sama…"
A flash crossed Zaraki's chest and he laughed as blood poured from a fresh wicked gash.
"I'm lookin' forward to it!"
Shinya raised the scythe to eye level, blood dripping from the tip,
"Next time, Shibotsuki won't be as forgiving."
"Ten years in Eightieth Rukongai, huh?" Shinya slumped his shoulders and sighed, shaking his head. "…can't believe it's been that long already."
A recruiter from the Seireitei's Thirteen Court Guard sat before him offering a plush life and a cause to fight for. Shinya spat to the side, as always, dismissive and slightly irritated,
"Pffe! Yeah, why not."
"Huh?"
"I said yeah, I'll join the Court Guard; on one condition."
"What is that?" The recruiter asked apprehensively.
"I get a spot in Eleventh Squad."
"I can't guarantee that…"
"No, but I can." The coarse voice came from a form that filled the doorway of Shinya's small hut. Shinya leaped to his feet smiling in genuine glee with his arms thrown wide,
"Zaraki-sama!"
"You've got some pretty unsavory characters looking for you."
"Those morons again? Tell 'em to scram, I'm not in the mood."
Zaraki removed his squad jacket and stepped inside throwing it to Shinya.
"You're part of Eleventh Squad now. You deal with it."
Shinya donned the jacket, rose to his feet, and bowed his head; a sarcastically sincere look on his face,
"Hai, Taicho."
He stepped outside to find Shiba Ganju and his two flunkies waiting for him.
"I'm getting tired of sending you back to Kukaku in a heap. Just go home, Shiba."
"I ain't losin' to you this time!"
"Baka-yaro! I've taken it easy on you in the past. You won't get the same kindness today."
Shinya raised clenched fists to his side and focused his power. The out-flow of his spiritual pressure created a strong breeze radiating outward in all directions. He rocked back into a loose stance and threw his right arm out behind him at a sharp angle.
"Cast your shadow, Shibotsuki!"
The wicked scythe seemed to materialize in the cradle of Shinya's palm and thumb.
Oh, man! This guy is serious, thought Ganju, drawing his zanpakuto…
Shinya disappeared from Ganju's sight.
"Nani?"
A blade slipped around the back of Ganju's neck and a cannonball force struck him in the gut. As his body lurched, to allow him to purge the mass of internal blood loss, he saw that the "cannonball" was Shinya's left fist. The blade and fist retracted as Shinya prepared for a second strike.
"Tell your Sis I said hello."
The next punch was a hooking uppercut that landed squarely in Ganju's face. Bones shattered audibly; cheek, nose, jaw, and maybe even a few vertebrae. He was sent sailing off many hundred meters before finally crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust.
Shinya spun on his heel and faced the recruiting Shinigami; a disarming smile on his face.
"Sorry about that. Now, where were we."
The Shinigami cleared his throat nervously.
"I will, uh, let Yamamoto-sama know of your decision."
With that he departed. As soon as he was out of earshot Zaraki nearly fell to the floor in peels of coarse laughter. Shinya shared a slight chuckle with his future captain, but failed to see what was so funny.
"Take a walk with me, Shinya-kun."
As they left, to walk casually through the streets of Eightieth Rukongai, they noticed Ganju's subordinates still standing outside with frozen masks of shock glued to their faces. Now it was Shinya's turn to explode into laughter.