I do not own bleach or any of its characters.
Panting, bending over to grab his breath as his muscles cramped, the fox headed youth looked over his shoulder, the distant shouts and gallop of hooves getting louder as his pursuers approached. Why? Why was it that his appearance provoked so much hatred in people? He was lucky if a village allowed him to stay near it for a couple of weeks, doing odd jobs for scraps of food or the odd coin or clothing or material before he was usually run out of town or "persuaded" to leave. This time was one of the worse ones. He had been there for about a week, helping protect the village goats from wild animals and with any heavy lifting that needed to be done, even at his age he was already starting to develop a respectable amount of muscle. Then the roaming preacher had come, and had immediately declared him a daemon, and stating that he would only kill or enslave the villagers if they did not drive him out.
So here he was, he had been running for hours, and yet still they pursued him. Hearing the blast of horn nearby, he dashed off again, trying to focus on running as fast as possible, leaping over boulders and dead trees as the baying of hounds and thunder of hooves got closer.
His foot hit a branch, and with a cry he crashed into the ground, rolling over and his left ankle crashing into a stone. Hissing at the pain in his left foot as he stood up again, he looked up to see a shaggy furred grey hound leap over a ridge at him. Grabbing the closest thing to him, a dead tree branch, he swung, the thick branch crunching into the hound's shaggy face, sending it howling and crying to the ground. Before he could move, he saw a hound, this one blond and with short fur running at him, again he swung, this time the attacker crashed into a tree.
Moving again, he had managed to cross another small ridge when he heard his mounted peruses nearing him. Hiding behind a large oak, he waited till one of them, a middle aged man on a large chestnut horse carrying a long, bronze leaf pointed spear, he recognised him as the village sheriff, and swung his makeshift weapon, catching the rider in the chest with a sharp crack, knocking him from his panicked mount. The oak branch had finally snapped, and the rider had dropped his spear, so the youth grabbed it as the sheriff stumbled up, clutching his chest and coughing blood.
As the fur covered youth turned to face him, the injured man drew a large but worn dagger and leapt at youth, impaling himself on the spear, blood spattering onto the wolf child. Staring in shock as the dead man slipped of the spear, eyes wide, he started to back away. His shock was interrupted however.
"Murderer! Monster!"
Looking up, he saw five more men from the village on horseback, all but one with spears. The wolf youth recognised the young man with a golden beard as the son of one of the merchants who lived in town had a large curved bronze blade.
As one they charged, causing the youth to leap to the side, one of the horses tripping, throwing it's rider headfirst against a large stone. Dismounting, remaining villagers shouted curses as they paced towards their quarry. With a roar, the youth pounced to their left, throwing the his captured spear into the neck of one of them, the crimson spray covering his shocked and now scared comrades.
Shaking now, they turned, and faced their now unarmed opponent, only to find he had disappeared. Then, with a crash, tree branch fell from above them, bringing their prey with it, landing in a heap behind them.
As the youth stumbled up, the merchant's son lunged at him. He made a furious downwards swipe and then a forward stab after the first attack was dodged, cutting the wolf boy's left side as he dodged to the side. At the same time, the cornered wolf boy smashed his right fist into the swordsman's face, breaking his nose and knocking him to the ground, the youth grabbing the sword which had fallen to the ground.
Holding the sword in front of him, the youth growled, shouting to his shocked pursuers, not noticing the faint purple energy that seemed to cover the blade and exude from him as he did so.
"Leave me alone! Go now and just leave me the hell alone!"
Grabbing the wounded merchant's son who was clutching his face, they scrambled back to their horses, fleeing.
His hands dropping to his side, the purple energy fading as quickly as it had appeared, the youth was about to sit down when he notice the large shadow towering over him from behind.
Spinning around, trying to bring the blade up, he was grabbed by the neck and hauled up, his sword dropping from his hand.
He was in the iron grip of a monstrous giant, one who bore a long scar down the side of his face, with long black hair running behind him. Whilst the wolf was in his left hand, a jagged blade was casually held in the other, lying across the beasts shoulder.
Desperately trying to control himself so his fear did not show in the self-soiling manner that it had in his original pursuers moments before, he looked in the giants eyes, glaring, managing to squeeze out a few words at him.
"Let me go."
The giant started chuckling.
"Should I? big talk for a skinny runt whose trapped. I like that, what's your name kiddo?" dropping the youth as he asked for his name.
Standing up, grabbing his sword, the wolf boy replied.
"Sajin Komamura."