Thick spikes of wild black hair rippled in the wind as a breeze blew over the rooftops where a figure sat on the balls of his feet on one of them. This was the Soul Society where souls came when they passed on or were guided here by the guardians of this place, the Soul Reapers who led good spirits here and purified souls that went bad after death. Soul reapers were themselves at one point deceased souls who retained spiritual powers that could be trained and used to police the spirit world. They came from all corners of the world and even, in the case of the one atop the roof, from the far reaches of the universe from a planet galaxies apart from Earth. No matter where in the universe, there was only one afterlife, only two places a departed soul could go: the Soul Society or Hell depending on one's actions in life. He was a member of a race of warriors from a distant planet called Vegeta, Saiyans they called themselves. They were a race that were remarkably human in appearance but with some differences, the most noticeable being their monkey-like tails, those tails being a significant source of their power. The extra appendage enabled them to transform into a gigantic monkey-like creatures known as oozarus with a glance at the full moon, dangerous creatures with no conscious thought and pure destructive power.

Planet Vegeta had been at the distant reaches of the universe in a galaxy light years from Earth's own Milky Way so its existence was unknown to mankind who'd only begun their explorations of space. Nor would it and its race of warriors ever be known to the human race for Vegeta had been destroyed a good thirty to forty Earth years ago by a heartless tyrant who'd feared the growing power of the Saiyans. With the destruction of their planet came also the destruction of all but a few members of their once proud race and this Saiyan-turned-Soul Reaper had made a point of keeping a list of those that had survived. One was his young cousin, Turles, who'd turned against Frieza ages ago and became a ruthless space pirate; Broly, who'd been an infant very nearly destroyed by King Vegeta, and his father Paragus; Prince Vegeta, son of their king and heir to the Saiyan throne, had been in Frieza's charge and thus been spared; Nappa, who'd been the Prince's guard so to speak and was likewise spared; and his own sons Raditz and Kakarot. Raditz had been away from the planet in service of Frieza while Kakarot had been a newborn infant and was sent to Earth. Of those, Turles, Raditz, Nappa, and Broly had been killed in battle against Kakarot when the boy had reached adulthood and sent to Hell, Paragus had died by his own son's hands, and the Prince now lived on Earth and had joined forces with Kakarot. The vast majority of their race had gone to Hell after death due to their love of battle and destruction and their violent ways. Virtually all Saiyans had the blood of countless races on their hands obtained in their service to Frieza, service that had involved going to other planets and wiping out the native races.

A few had been lucky enough to be granted entrance to the Soul Society and now resided in the districts of the Rukon. This particular Saiyan, he was no exception, he'd helped Frieza to destroy countless lives, had voluntarily wiped out those no one else would touch. He'd always tried not to think too much about it, the few times he did he realized how sick it made him to be doing it, such meaningless violence and mindless killing left a bad taste in his mouth. He'd been a child when Vegeta had defeated the Tuffles and taken the planet as their own, he vaguely recalled the days when the Saiyans were a race of barbaric warriors living in caves who had their own code of honor. Saiyans lived to fight, loved the thrill of battle, but the killing that Frieza used them for… He saw them as nothing more than attack dogs, deprived them of their honor as warriors and made them a race of heartless mercenaries and assassins. None of them had ever thought about it, most had forgotten what life was like before Frieza, they didn't care either. They were doing what they did best and they were well-rewarded and well-paid for it, but of course eventually it bit them in the ass. The only reason this male Saiyan was not in Hell was because he died trying to save his planet and his race, he'd redeemed himself and had earned his place here.

He was known as Son Bardock, a low-class soldier that by all rights should've been retested because with the power level he'd possessed he could've easily been made an elite. His power level at the time of Vegeta's destruction had been close to 10,000, it'd been predicted that had he kept going the way he had been he would have easily surpassed even King Vegeta's power. As it was, he was never given the opportunity because of Frieza's betrayal. That was something he was still very bitter over, an anger he should've let go of after so many years, but an anger he couldn't release so easily. He'd initially been sent to Hell with the rest of his brethren, but once his actions just prior to death came to light, King Yemma opted to send him to the Soul Society. He would rather have stayed in Hell with his team and his best friend, Tora, at least it would've been entertaining. He ended up in the 80th district of the Rukongai, the toughest of all the districts which suited someone like Bardock just fine; there was always a fight to be had. But none there were worth the effort, he was several times stronger than anyone else, so it didn't take long for Bardock to get very bored. Things changed when, after having a few drinks, he unknowingly picked a fight with a soul reaper. He didn't know anything about them, didn't know that the slim young man dressed in black and carrying a sword was one of them. What he did know was that after all was said and done, the man was impressed with his skills as a warrior and the amount of spiritual pressure he possessed, remarked what an asset he would be to the soul reapers.

After that, Bardock managed to get into the Soul Reaper Academy where he felt more than just a little out of place and it wasn't because of his hair and tail, it was due to the fact that the majority of those here were just kids and he was a full-grown adult. But he managed not to focus on that, kept to himself, proved to be a quick study, and in what seemed like no time, was made an official Soul Reaper with his own zanpakuto and assigned to Squad 11 under Captain Kenpachi Zaraki and Lieutenant Yachiru Kusajishi. Being a Soul Reaper could be quite entertaining when a powerful enough hollow appeared and it wasn't without its perks, one of which enabled him to go to and from Hell at will, which he did quite frequently to look in on his team. He'd only recently returned from a ten-year hiatus, stronger now than he'd been when he left which he was very pleased about. He'd been getting a bit bored with his duties as a Soul Reaper when he was approached by a man calling himself the Grand Kai who offered to train him for awhile. Only those who'd sacrificed their lives for someone or something other than themselves were given the honor of being trained by this odd little old man wearing sunglasses. So he'd willingly accepted the offer for specialized training for, like any true Saiyan, Bardock would never pass up the allure of more power which, after much blood, sweat, and irritation, is exactly what he got.

Unfortunately, with the current complications the Soul Society was facing and the loss of three captains, they needed Bardock to return post-haste. Of course he simply returned to his regular duties, but they needed him and any other Soul Reaper available to help eliminate the hollows. Some of them were getting stronger and required stronger shinigami to help purify them and the Saiyan was one of their best and strongest. He'd risen to fourth seat in Squad 11, though admittedly it was only because that pansy-ass pretty boy Yumichika Ayasegawa preferred the "beauty" of being fifth seat, so Zaraki had offered the seat between him and Ikakku Madarame. Not that he had anything truly personal against Ikakku and Yumichika, but one did get tired of all the "ugly monkey" bullshit he got from Yumichika. He was glad to be in the 11th squad, his companions enjoyed fighting as much as he did and were always up for a sparring session especially if there was sake to be had. As it was, there was a lull in activity at the moment, there were no hollows in his area to be killed, and Ikakku and Yumichika spent most of their time in the world of the living in a place called Karakura Town. The device attached to his left ear began peeping, Bardock's eye glancing at the small green screen over his left eye where a small yellow arrow pointed to his left, the numbers indicating a spiritual pressure beyond calculation. This was one of Bardock's own creations, he'd used his original scouter, a machine all Saiyans used to read power levels, as a prototype and programmed it to read spiritual pressure as well as power levels.

In seconds he heard the tinkle of bells on the wind and he turned to his left taking a fighting stance, his scouter indicating that the spiritual pressure was coming from the left still, it'd been behind him. He turned to face it, his zanpakuto Shenron flew from its sheath just as a battered blade came down, the metal clanging as the two swords met. A single black eye with a maniacal gleam in it and a unique eye patch covering its twin met Bardock's own onyx orbs, confirming what he already knew: it was his captain Kenpachi Zaraki. There was no one in the Seireitei who loved fighting more than the dreaded captain of Squad 11, he was a dangerous opponent who'd come to his position by defeating and killing his predecessor. The patch he wore over his right eye was specially designed to absorb the excessive, limitless spiritual pressure he exuded. Bardock was one of the few that could hear the bells that adorned the tips of the spikes of Zaraki's black hair, he had easily won the captain's favor and was among the few that was any challenge for him. Zaraki had come from the 79th Rukon district, a battle-hardened warrior by the time he came to the Seireitei, the scar running from above his brow, over his left eye, down to his chin spoke of a hard past filled with violence and bloodshed. Small wonder he'd become such a feared monster who lived only to fight, it was probably all he'd ever known in this world. A wicked grin spread across Zaraki's face as a rough chuckle emerged from his lips while Bardock smirked up at him before the two leapt apart.

The fight continued for a good hour or so, neither knew how long, both absorbed in the thrill of the fight, Bardock admiring his captain's skill and power. Kenpachi would've made a fine Saiyan. It ended when Kenpachi's flash step outmaneuvered Bardock's after-image technique, the chipped blade practically touching the tip of the Saiyan's nose.

"Huh. You're slipping," Kenpachi remarked, a bored frown on his face, "You're better than this, Bardock."

"I wasn't trying any less than usual," Bardock said as the blade left his face and came to rest on its owner's shoulder.

"Please," his captain replied, "You're heart wasn't in it, I could tell."

"Bullshit," he snorted.

"Hmph, you're usually more of a challenge, Bardock. I'm almost disappointed."

"What?" Bardock was understandably upset with that comment especially since Kenpachi was walking away, "Are you walking away from me, Captain?"

"Yeah, this fight's startin' to bore me."

"Ha! Isn't this usually when you just kill your opponent?"

"I would, but the paper work's piling up and I need somebody to do it. Besides, you ain't worth the time it'd take to kill you. Not with the way you're fighting today."

"How dare you-!"

"Trust me, Saiyan, I dare. What're you gonna do about it?"

The tone in his voice was challenging as Kenpachi stopped to look over his broad shoulder and grin menacingly at Bardock, but he wasn't going to be baited. He forgot that Kenpachi was actually observant in battle, he actually thought his captain would miss that his mind wasn't currently on the battle. He wasn't actually in any mood for a fight, much as that might go against his Saiyan nature. He crossed his arms, head on his chest, his eyes cast to the side averted from Kenpachi who merely shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

"Wow, that was close," a high-pitched feminine voice came from behind him.

Bardock jumped and turned to look behind him to see the lieutenant of the 10th division Rangiku Matsumoto seated on the edge of the rooftop, elbows resting on her knees. The position offered a tempting view of her supple breasts, not that she necessarily hid them, but he quickly forced his mind away from that. He forced his gaze to come up and meet her pale blue eyes, his eyelids partly lowered and an eyebrow quirked as he regarded her with look of mildly annoyed curiosity.

She was easily one of the most attractive women among the Soul Reapers with her flowing reddish waves and light grey-blue eyes, but, affective a lieutenant as she was, she could be a bit of an airhead outside of her duties. Nonetheless, they were friendly with each other, he was quite fond of her and she was a lot of fun. They'd shared many a bottle of sake over the years and occasionally a bed, but much as he liked her, he had no hope of being anymore than casual with her. She had an affinity for Gin Ichimaru, the former captain of the 3rd division, a traitor who'd left with Sosuke Aizen for Hueco Mundo. Not that he was really looking for a relationship or love, but he could see it in her eyes when she was thinking of her old friend.

"I thought for sure he was gonna go for you again," she remarked.

Bardock rolled his eyes, "How long have you been here?"

"Oh years, I think-" she began.

"I meant right here, watching!" he snapped; she really was a ditz sometimes.

"Oh! Well, there's no need to be mean about it," she pouted a little, "Awhile, I guess."

His eyes narrowed at her obviously non-specific answer; she'd meant just to see what the racquet was, but she enjoyed watching Bardock fight. Like all Soul Reapers, he'd added his personal touches to his uniform, wearing only his right arm in the sleeve while the left remained bare to show the Saiyan armor he wore underneath. He still wore the red arm and leg warmers he had in life, but the Saiyan boots had been replaced with the Japanese sandals all Soul Reapers wore. Around his head, surrounded by the wild spikes of black hair, he wore a blood-red bandana, its color darker than that of the sweatbands adorning his legs and arms. She swore that headband meant more to the man than life itself, then there was the furry appendage that was currently swishing behind him impatiently. Sometimes it was loose as it was now, other times he wrapped it around his waist, and like many she had thought it was just some furry belt he wore as a trophy or something when he'd first arrived.

That was until the first night they'd shared some sake and she'd gone with him to his room where she realized the "belt" was attached to him, a continuation of his spine covered in soft brown fur. She also learned quickly enough that it was extremely prehensile, often being used as a fifth limb to a fuller extent than any monkey, and highly sensitive. A light, gentle enough touch sent a shiver up his spine, often eliciting a soft pleased moan from his lips, but a hard tug was unbearably painful. The pain of having his tail pulled was such that he was temporarily immobilized and rendered helpless, often falling to his knees. It was a weakness that Bardock as a low-class Saiyan had never outgrown or been trained to conquer.

"Rangiku!" he snapped.

"Long enough to have seen most of your little scuffle!" she replied, leaning back in shock at his tone, "Gee, Bardock, you're not usually quite this cranky."

"Dammit, Matsumoto," he grumbled, "You coulda just said that!"

"Hmph!" she crossed her arms over her chest, which really didn't help that view, "You really need to do a better job remembering I'm a lieutenant and you need to be a bit more respectful."

Respect never was Bardock's strong point especially for those who were above him, knew they were, and treated him as a lesser being because of it. The result was a bit of an inferiority complex that was rather at odds with his ego, so he was usually on edge around superior officers and didn't always show them the respect due them. Rangiku usually brushed it off as did a few of the others, but he knew who didn't let him get away with it and made an effort to respect them. At the top of that list was the 6th squad captain Byakuya Kuchiki, the head of one of the four noble families in the Soul Society. Kuchiki was a man you didn't screw with; Bardock had made the mistake once and he damn sure wasn't going to repeat it again. He'd seen that captain's zanpakuto Senbonzakura in action and delicate as it seemed, it did a lot of damage and wasn't to be underestimated.

"And just what the hell did you mean by this cranky?" he asked hands on his hips, head tilted slightly.

"Everyone knows you're grumpy most of the time," she stated, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, "But it's not usually this bad."

Bardock sighed in a vain attempt to control the bad temper that all in his race seemed to possess, just one more thing that made them dangerous beings. Granted, he was sarcastic, crass, assinine really, rude, naturally temperamental and at times nasty, but he'd never considered himself grumpy. Though he never thought of himself as a good person, beneath the rough exterior and macho, tough-guy act, lay hidden a decent person; he had a good heart underneath all the ego and attitude. He'd loved his sons as any father should and was as he could considering his race's ways and his own upbringing that had been filled with neglect and abuse at his own father's hands. His father had been far from loving, had only ever seen Bardock as a bitter disappointment, and had bestowed on him a great many bumps, bruises, and contusions. In fact, contrary to anything he'd ever told anyone, the scar on his left cheek had been caused by Bardock's father when he'd aimed a blast at his face. Bardock had tilted his head away to avoid being hit, but it had cut his cheek deep enough to leave a permanent mark. Though Bardock had been dismissive when it came to the potential of his own sons, he'd taken care of Raditz and had done his best to do better by his son than his father had ever done by him. It was the best any could expect from a man whose only male influence had been a violent, uncaring brute even by Saiyan standards.

Bardock's better nature had been passed on to his younger son Kakarot and that good heart had flourished outside of Saiyan influence and under the nurture of the human race. It was this that currently had Bardock in a mood, his own sense of inadequacy in comparison to his second-born that left him questioning all he'd ever known. He'd watched Kakarot grow up, had kept up with his progress, his heart filled with fatherly pride that a low class like Kakarot had achieved Super Saiyan. He'd have liked nothing more than to meet his son, know him and talk to him face to face, but they were so different in personality and their ways. No doubt Kakarot, no, Goku wouldn't want anything to do with Bardock if he knew him. Goku was gentle and kind, willing to do anything and everything in his power to protect his family and his planet. He'd already seen the ruthlessness of a true Saiyan nature and he'd thought little of it, had disapproved of it and there were a great many terrible things Bardock had done in his life that he wasn't proud of, at least not anymore. He was forever divided between shock and disappointment over how un-Saiyan like his son was and the pride he felt over all that he'd become without the influence of another Saiyan. He rubbed the back of his head, a nervous habit Goku had inherited from him, before looking back at Rangiku.

"It's personal," he replied quietly.

"Oh," she relaxed, seeing the lost look in his obsidian eyes, "Well, if you wanna talk…"

"I'll find you," he finished as she got up to leave, realizing that he was in no mood to talk.

Bardock was one to keep his problems to himself, to suffer in silence and bear his burdens alone, but often it left him to become moodier than usual as he brooded over things. Rangiku was the closest thing he had to a friend here and she knew him a lot better than he was comfortable with, so she knew he needed space at the moment and so left him alone for the time being. Unfortunately, that solitude didn't last long, Bardock knew when he again had unwelcome company without his scouter even going off. The person who'd disturbed his peace this time was skilled in hiding his power level so it wasn't detected by the Saiyan's device. He quickly turned to face the intruder, his features hard and angry, his hand going for the hilt of his sword before his sight even landed on the amphibian-like features.

"Toolo," he snarled at the strange being standing before him, in what seemed to be a relaxed stance, but Bardock knew he too was tense.

He was a Kanassan who'd died barely twenty-four hours prior to Bardock himself, one of a psychic alien race Bardock and his team had wiped out just before Vegeta's destruction. Toolo hated him with a passion for that reason, he'd escaped the initial attack and had cursed Bardock with the psychic powers of the Kanassans to punish him, to force him to see the end of his race as Toolo and his people had foreseen their own end. Bardock had killed him in retaliation, thinking nothing of the curse until the visions began plaguing his mind. The hatred Toolo felt for Bardock was returned by the Saiyan in full, that hatred turning into a powerful rivalry when Bardock came to the Soul Society and found that not only had the Kanassan been granted entrance, he'd likewise become a Soul Reaper.

At the moment, a satisfied smirk was on Toolo's reptilian countenance, pleased that his curse on Bardock had not only remained with him after death, but that those psychic abilities, specifically the visions, still tormented him.

"What're you smirking about?" the Saiyan sneered.

"How does it feel, Saiyan," Toolo responded, "to fly so close to the sun and never be able to touch it?"

Bardock rolled his eyes, exhaling an aggravated sigh; he got so tired of Toolo's endless riddles. He could just do it the easy way and read Toolo's mind to get the answers he wanted, but where was the fun in that? Besides, that'd give Toolo the satisfaction of knowing that Bardock was simply taking the easy way out instead of trading tit for tat and he hated to give Toolo any satisfaction at all.

"How does it feel, Kanassan," he replied, "to have your head so far up your ass you can't give a straight answer?"

The smirk quickly faded as he realized Bardock's foul mood was not going to make him any less sarcastic or any easier to beat in their little games.

"Even now, Saiyan," he said, "You are paying for what you did."

"And that gives you so much pleasure," Bardock growled, "Too bad a woman can't do the same thing. You could use a good lay."

Toolo's eyes narrowed at Bardock; the Saiyans were an immodest and unabashed race, Bardock's lack of concern with such a quip proved it.

"You cannot even show yourself to the sun," he went on, determined to strike as low a blow, "For it would forsake you. So you wisely hide in the shadows from its sight, knowing it would reject you."

Normally, Bardock would've launched himself at the man for such an insult and given him a sound beating in return; the implication wasn't lost on him. He was intelligent and he knew that "the sun" referred to Kakarot; Toolo was striking a low blow. As it was, Bardock was already treading the waters of his shame and that remark had only deepened it. He wasn't one who normally felt shame, but knowing that his own son would likely reject him had left his shame raw and open. So he said nothing.

"Buzz off, lizard-breath," he muttered, "I ain't in the mood for you."

"How very hard the mighty fall," was the repsonse.

Toolo hadn't expected the large Saiyan fist to hit him squarely in the face, throwing him back, almost knocking him off the roof. The only thing that stopped him was Bardock's tail wrapped around his wrist, which surprised him until Bardock's foot connected his abdomen. His tail released its hold at the same instant as the force of the blow sent Toolo flying into the side of a building. He fell to the ground, the impact leaving a dent in the ground and Toolo very much dazed to say the least.

"Jerk," Bardock mumbled as he stalked off.

He wasn't sure where he'd go, whether to the world of the living or to Hell, but he needed to get out of the Seiretei for awhile. Maybe it was high time he go to Earth to see his younger son from a distance at the very least. It was getting harder to resist the temptation that had haunted him all these years, maybe he should just give in.