A shinigami is a god of death.
Therefore, a shinigami is no stranger to death. They are used to it.
They are used to the fact that there are millions of creatures out there that would like to kill them. More than kill. To end their existance. There is a difference.
Shinigami, being Death gods, Soul Reapers, and any other name humans have given them, have killed. And most likely, they have killed so much [they are shinigami, after all] that the very thought of killing, killing in itself, of ending a life, does not bother them anymore.
Really? Really?
I have been a shinigami for centuries. I have lived [or died?] so long that I do not even care to remember my age. I have seen friends come and go, I have seen countless, countless, Hollows that have risen to take my life, and have fallen while trying to take it. Fallen. To my blade.
I have been a shinigami longer than most. Not as long as Yamamoto-sama, of course. Not as long as Unohana-taicho, or Ukitake-taicho or Kyoraku-taicho either. They have seen a millenia or two more than I have. But even so, I have been a shinigami longer than most.
My subordinates, and many of my superiors as well, admire me. My superiors smile at me with approval. My subordinates [and heck, even some of my equals] look up to me. They do not hesitate in asking me for my advice, or my help. And my friends too. They laugh with me, rejoice with me, telling me 'it's only a matter of time before they promote me'. And many shinigami, no matter how young or inexperienced, often come shaking or frightened or crying to me, not asking for anything in particular. They don't have to speak. I don't need them to tell me anything for me to comfort them.
Sometimes, if I could coax out their story, it would be about the loss of a loved one. I offer my own suggestions, little things that I learned the hard way. Maybe my mistakes can prevent them from happening in these new young lives. Sometimes it's simply the stress. There are so many talented young ones out there, so many shinigami who are immediately recognized for their skill, and are appointed right away to a seated officer. There are some who would want that kind of recognition more than anything. But really, glory comes at a price. Perhaps a mission had gone horribly wrong, and one or all of their squad members ["that they had been in charge of"] had died.
I know that pain, I do. I myself am a fairly high-ranking officer, and many times my squadron and I had been sent out on some very important mission. Many times we marched back victorious, and I would later host a celebration at my quarters. Many times we staggered back more dead than alive, with less than half the shinigami we started out with. I blamed myself. Sometimes I still do. "If only I had been faster," I often think as I reflect. "If only I had used the incantation for that spell", "If only I had practiced an hour more with my zanpakuto". One hour! I could have spared the time! If only I hadn't done this, if only I hadn't done that, if only I had been stronger, if only I had strengthened my shikai before going!
Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! Yes, I know that pain.
But it's too late, isn't it? What's done is done. You cannot change the past. You can alter the future, however. So learn! Learn from your mistakes, and be sure not to make it again. If you will never get the chance to do it, then pass it on to the next generation.
Sometimes, and this is more often with the newly-graduated-from-the-Academy, they would run weeping, or simply frozen with shock, to me about their first Hollow kill. How that last almost-human scream had been abruptly cut off by a blade, their blade. How glowing red eyes had made contact with their own amber ones, or purple ones, or whatever color their own were. How those would probably haunt them for the rest of their career. How they could have sworn, they swore, that they had seen that face somewhere. Somewhere in the past, perhaps? When they were still human?
I comfort them by assuring them, and this is the truth, that they are not killing the Hollows. They are merely killing the monster, I would tell them. The human soul inside, or rather, the formerly human soul, would be purified of the terrible deeds they had commited as a Hollow. That is what zanpakuto are for, are they not? And then the soul would reappear in Soul Society. They aren't killing, I say. They are purifying.
Ha! Yes, here I am. Here I am, the comforter, the warm yet strong shinigami that is almost as well known for kindness as Ukitake Juushiro-dono. They run to me in tears. How can I refuse them? I don't. Welcome them inside, seat them down at the table, pour a cup or two of steaming tea, and listen.
Little do they know.
Hollows. Yes, they are monsters. They are heartless, hence the title, "hollow". In most cases, they are mindless killing machines. So, to keep the balance, we, the shinigami, come in. It's quite simple. Track the Hollow, fight the Hollow, kill the Hollow. Track, fight, kill. Sometimes, it is harder because they have evolved like they have, but it is still the same. Track, fight, kill.
I remember [was it two hundred years ago? Two hundred fifty?] my days in the Academy. Hollows are corrupt souls, human souls, who, for some reason, refuse to move on. They linger in the transient world, for too long, too long. They transform. The regret overwhelms them, and they change. Hollows. There are more advanced breeds, there are exceptionally intelligent or strong or fast ones out there, but how they came to be is the same way. Regret.
That lesson was one of the few that really struck a chord. I knew, in general, what a Hollow was. I had seen quite a few in Rukongai. But to learn that they were humans?
And then, I still remember my own first kill. Not vividly, for it was too long ago for that. But I remembered running after it, and cutting it down [very very easily]. And I remembered that same lesson.
Hollows are human souls that have refused to pass on to Soul Society because of past regrets.
Human.
And even to this day, every single time I swing my blade, that thought repeats itself over and over in my head.
Hollows are human souls that have refused to pass on to Soul Society because of past regrets.
I do not hesitate in battle. At least, that's what others see. I am the supreme example of a strong shinigami. I do not hesitate to move my arm and swing, to move my legs and jump, to move my mouth and utter a spell.
No, my body does not hesitate. Hesitate and you die. That is another lesson I learned the hard way. My body does not hesitate.
But my mind does.
Hollows were human once. They can't change back, of course, but they were human.
And you know what?
I was human once, too.
I know, I know. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of shinigami are also from the transient world. But even so. That Hollow that was just cut down by a shinigami, and this shinigami that just cut down a Hollow....they come from the same race. Both were human once upon a time.
Not once do I swing my blade without managing to see the creature in the eyes [which is funny, because it happens no matter what angle I come at it from] and almost tricking myself into thinking that I'm looking at a fellow shinigami.
Not once do I fire off a kidou spell without thinking, that could be me out there.
Not once do I cut through flesh, blood, muscle and bone without thinking, this isn't fair. How could I be doing this?
Not once do I train without thinking, I'm glad I died young.
Sometimes I try to justify my actions. It's my job. I'm a shinigami. I'm not killing them. I'm purifying them. I'm freeing them.
Absolutely. Of course.
What is one to do? Not much of our personalities have changed as we die as humans and start living as we do now. The human nature. [for I have visited the human world many times] Some places are fat and wealthy and abundant. At the same time, in other places, men, women, children living in the slums [if you can call it "living"] starve, weaken, wither away. And the rich humans are perfectly aware of this as it happens. They see the images, they see the horror, and they are "moved". Others so desperately want to do something about it, but what do their fellow humans say?
Come now, it's not our problem. If you don't think about it, it doesn't exist.
That is the human nature.
Does that change the fact that one of your own kind is dying?
Does that change the fact that if it weren't for the lack of regret, you could be that Hollow over there devouring souls in a vain attempt to fill the bottomless void, and being sliced in two by a shinigami? Or perhaps, it could be your human-hood friend, or mother, or brother?
Ah, well.
Yes, I am the comforter. Pity that I myself have no one to turn to though. Ironic that, while I ease the pain of others, I myself am haunted by the all-too-familiar screams and piercing gazes.
Yes, what a pity.