Merciless

This is a warning: Just another pointless vent oneshot. OOC will most likely abound. This is my take on a certain subject, which would be a certain Inner Hollow. There might be a little gore so I'd advise you to tread with caution. I really should stop writing this shit. I wrote it from 1st person POV even though I HATE that style. Forgive any typos, bias, or non-English-words used here. Also, no character name is mentioned. BUT, you'll know who it is.

This is a disclaimer: Kusari (myself) does not own Bleach, nor will he ever. He does not even own the rights to a single character. Believe you me, if he did, shit would hit the fan.

This is a summary: Kinshara would forever remember the day, as would I. And Gryph would never again come off his perch.

It has been forever and a day. Over a century and still this plagues me, though you wouldn't think it after so long. Troubles such as these do not just vanish into nothingness. They remain bottled inside until the day you die. That is, if you even die at all. Sometimes there are individuals who seem like they'll never expire. Thankfully, I am not one of them.

A quick retreat into the soulscape isn't always as refreshing as some claim it to be. Not when you have an extra pair of eyes watching as you collect yourself and what remains of your sanity. Its malice is clear, you're able to feel it lacing every particle of the air with utter loathing. This thing won't leave, won't quit, until it has what it wants. A way out.

But I'm fully aware of its presence here. And I try not to be grossly terrified of it. We reached an agreement forever ago and it has been true to its word ever since. Though, the word of such a lowly being shouldn't be taken at face value. These creatures have been called serial liars and devilish deceivers by many. They are out only for themselves and have no concern for others. Self-preservation.

Its eyes are heavily fixed on me right now as I rest my form against the only tree in sight. A single living thing in an othwerwise barran landscape. Perfect for providing the solitude I require in order to regain my calm after high-stress encounters. There are two others with me. The first is a very welcome site, a harmless-appearing vulpine with a long tail ending in a bladed flower-type design. She has been here for as long as I have been a Shinigami. Kinshara. With captivating violet eyes and a rather quiet disposition.

Then, there is the beast. With soulless eyes of black and golden-yellow. It wants nothing more than to see this inner world crumble asunder. This thing seems like nothing to fear. It chooses the form of a rather fascinating creature, a paradise crow. But that is just a ruse. A cover-up. A lie. The monster behind this beguiling little avian is something never to be crossed. A Hollow being. Gryph. He perches on a low branch and watches with hatred.

Kinshara remains curled up at my side, saying not a word. Her gaze occasionally flits upwards to focus on the corvid-like thing watching us. Their eyes both have a bold light to them and that is where envy lies. He is her polar opposite, but both are still me in essence. Shinigami naturally have another part to their soul which is the spirit of their zanpakuto. The form of the manifest sword spirit is different for each person. They are born with the Shinigami and die with the Shinigami.

Hollows are a naturally occurring phenomenon just as zanpakuto spirits are. But they are always meant to be their own individual selves, manifested when a soul carries too many negative emotions beyond death. That is why Soul Reapers purify their spirits and the Hollows can avoid a one way trip to Hell. Not one decent soul, alive or dead, wants to wind up stuck in Hell.

What of Gryph, then? What would a Hollow being be doing inside the soulscape of a Shinigami? That is not the important issue. Frankly, I'm used to him being here and normally ignore any whisperings he should utter at all hours. The real issue is quite unknown. I am always watched when I come to this inner sanctum to think and reflect. Kinshara always flocks to my side like a loyal dog. Er, fox.

Something about Gryph draws her attention more than normal today. She almost never takes her eyes off the demon bird resting on the branch of the lone tree. His own eyes remain narrowed and seething with anger. But something causes her to stand, ears laid back defensively, body pointing in his direction. I am lost. They do not fight, it is abnormal. Gryph spreads his wings as if to fly, taking off from his spot. There is a horrible high-pitched noise coming from his every wing flap. Like a dog whistle but worse. Kinshara has a pained expression from the level of the sound.

'Something is off.'

The little vulpine is capable of human speech, as are all zanpakuto spirits, even though I rarely hear her mumble a word. Something truly must be upsetting some kind of balance. She flicks that whip-like tail in caution and Gryph dives down. His land zone is atop my head. The sharp points of his talons are not a pleasant feeling and it will be virtually impossible to pry him off.

There is nothing you can do.

I will not get worked up over one little statement. Showing any sign of weakness is an action punishable by possibly horrid consequences. So keeping absolutely silent while this creature spouts of nonsense is exactly the plan.

Let me tell you something. This is where the line of the deal is drawn. Your half has been well-kept but I'm afraid I can no longer honor mine. His wings spread wide. Some kinda of pale yellow light engulfs him, whiting out everything for a second.

Visibility is regained and the pain of his talons against my scalp is gone. There is now a driving pressure against my chest. He was moved ship and now has me pinned up against the tree, using force enough so that there is no room to get free. I will still not admit to being afraid. With an effortless leap, Kinshara hops upon my right shoulder just for a second before bounding up onto a low branch. Perfect, I've been downgraded to stepladder.

I can tell when your mind is in a state of distress. And lately, it's all I've been getting from you. I'm sick of it! Get the fuck over yourself. Parting ways with someone you're not even dating should never be this wounding. You left six months ago! Forget about her already!

So that's what this was about. A good friend of mine I left behind in order to reclaim the Captain position for the 3rd Squad. Admittingly, it has weighed down my mental processes as of late. I am still not used to being away from the rest of the group that had remained as a clan-like gathering for ages. She and I had an unexplainable partnership that somehow worked so fluidly. But I'm not head over heels for someone like that. It just wouldn't be right.

I'm so disgusted with you. You Shinigami are a filthy lot and should be very ashamed. I'm going to teach you a lesson you shall not soon forget.

My eyes surveyed this thing that had clung sharply to my chest, digging razor-like talons in. The broke through the thin fabric of my shihakusho and rested against the skin underneath. They were close to puncturing the skin and drawing blood, in fact. It hurt in a way I could not describe. Not horribly as if I was being tortured, but not lightly as if it was simply an itched-raw patch. Gryph no longer looked like an irate bird of paradise. He had taken on features akin to the beasts of myth called gryphons. Little ears that pivoted to pick up sound, front legs with hand-like appendages, a less-avian tail, and back legs ending in mammalian paws that possessed the sharp claws digging into my flesh. Of course, the talons on his front feet were none too soft either.

Listen to me! He was so utterly infuriated and demanding.

"I'm listening."

Those two words drove him madder. Now each and every claw went through my skin and blood was drawn. It trickled down my front side underneath the clothing. Some of it soaked through the shihakusho and even stained little blotches on my haori. The white cloth was died a familiar red color. If Yamamoto Soutaicho was here to see this, he'd be none too pleased with me.

You fucking ingrate, walking around so internally depressed! No more of it! Do you want ME to solve this problem for you? Because I will!

His rage sent a shiver down my spine. Hollows could be ruthless killers at times so his method of 'fixing my problem' would most certainly be an extreme. But I still could not let him have his manipulating way. That would only make further interactions all the more risky. Gryph seemed to be reading my facial expressions and narrowed his eyes in terrific delight. His planning process was surely something to worry over.

You leave me absolutely no choice.

Gryph drew one of his front limbs back and spread each digit apart, flexing the claws as if preparing for a strike. I visibly gulped in anticipation and this fueled his crazy fire. The limb plunged forward and sank right into my chest cavity. The force of the impact hurt like a true bitch and forced a muffled scream of agony out of me. He twisted the arm in the hole and began to yank it back. Something inside my ribcage lurched forward as Gryph tugged him arm out. With the limb, exited a vital organ.

Without this, you'll no longer care about that bitch!

Blood sprayed everywhere with the removal of the organ. But it was still attached, somehow, by arteries and veins. Is this what people meant by heartstrings? It could only be possibly on a plane such as this. The soulscape, the inner mind of an individual. My shihakusho and haori with soaked with blood and it was spattered all over the front of Gryph, going all up his arm and down his feathery chest. Bile rose to the back of my throat, building up and mixing with saliva and yet more blood. It trickled down my chin and dribbled onto the ground and my clothes.

How does it feel! How does it feel to nearly be without your most vital source of life? The thing that contains the metaphorical soul!

A white mass of thick fluid seeped out of his nostrils, beak, eyes, and ears. It covered his entire face then hardened into a very familiar sight. The mask. Behind the white mass of bone-like substance, blazingly evil eyes shone with a new malice. The yellow irises set inside the blackened white area which normally trademarked an eye ball were at least five levels of eerie. He shook the distended heart in his hand and squeezed, the claws on each digit sinking in deeper. Crimson fluid leaked from each puncture wound and painted his gray limb red.

This is what you get for being a confused piece of shit! Forget about all of that shit that happened before regaining YOUR rightful position! Move forward, stop looking back!

Kinshara, watching the whole thing with resolute eyes, crouched lowly on the branch she occupied. Then she sprang downwards towards the offending beast. Her jaws widened to their full size and clamped down on Gryph's throat as she collided into him. His grip on the beating heart was immediately loosened and the organ dropped from his grasp. He was flung backwards and skidded on the ground, a trail of blood streaking the floor behind him. Kinshara sank her canine teeth deeper into the feathers and flesh of his throat, her growls muffled by Gryph's form.

The mask dissipated from Gryph's face and he changed back to his paradise crow appearance. Strangled caws and screeches emitted from his windpipe as Kinshara bit down harder. I couldn't make out the scene, the shock of the injury inducing an oncoming blackout. The last thing I remember before losing all consciousness was Gryph being let go and him flying back up the tree weakly. Kinshara had given him his only warning.

My eyes bolted open and my breathing was ragged, slowly calming down as I looked around the dimly lit room. What happened in the inner soulscape did not reflect back into reality. All the flood and wounds did not exist here on my spiritual body. Nonetheless, the encounter would certainly be one never to be forgotten. And Kinshara would never again let Gryph down from that lone tree as long as she existed.

Maybe I need therapy.