Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN BLEACH
This chapter takes place while Kenpachi is living in the Rukon Districts but before he meets Yachiru. So he remains without a name, but I am going to call him Kenpachi anyways.
Chapter 1
He flashed his wicked grin upon his victim.
He raised his jagged blood drenched blade and brought it down with incredible force.
The blade made contact across his victims chest.
It sliced across his heart and diagonally down to the man's side.
His victim gasped and collapsed dead before he hit the ground.
A pool of blood already forming underneath him.
Kenpachi grunted.
That had been no fun for him.
This guy was pathetic.
Kenpachi turned on his heel running a hand through his greasy shoulder length hair.
The other hand dragged his bloody blade behind him.
He'd had this blade as long as he could remember.
His earliest memory was seeing his dead father lying on the ground of their small blood splattered cottage.
He remembered seeing his sister kneeling over his father with tears streaming down her face.
He remembered her face as she was killed.
She fell on top of her father.
She reached out to Kenpachi before she died.
He remembered the feeling he got as he watched his only family die.
Proud.
He was proud he had his first taste of murder.
He tightened his grip on his bloodied blade.
The blood of his own family.
Thinking of his earliest memory made him grin.
He knew this guy who had just challenged him was probably the strongest in this Rukon District so it didn't make sense to stay here.
Fighting was just a hobbie.
Killing was in his blood.
I had waited for a long time.
My clan had died out and my master had long ago abandon me.
I lay down to await my destiny.
What would happen to me?
Then came the day a man approached me.
He had long dark black hair.
He had piercing coal black eyes.
He grinned and picked me up.
He took me to a woman that laid on the floor wrapped in blankets.
She had long dark brown hair and soft blue eyes that complimented her brown skin.
In her arms she held wrapped in a smaller blanket a small but muscular baby.
He picked up the bundle of blankets and handed me to the baby.
The baby grasped me in his hands and opened his piercing black coal eyes.
He looked just like his father.
I was with the boy all throughout his childhood.
As a baby he never cried.
I hurt him I yelled at him and made him to scared to cry.
I was there when his older sister ran away.
I was there when his mother died.
He was scared for her but never made a sound.
Then he began to get to the point that memories would begin to form.
I stopped talking to him as much.
Soon he wasn't frightened of me.
Then when his sister came back I knew that things would have to change.
I spoke up for the first time in a while.
Kill them . . .
Hope you liked it please R&R!