I'm so sorry, you guys. I am just a terrible, terrible person... after I asked you all for reviews and you obliged wonderfully, I don't update for over a month? I'm very, very sorry. You deserve better *sob* As usual, my art has been taking over my life, and Toshiro simply doesn't take as much of a place in my imagination as he used to... I'm so sorry. I can't make any promises anymore, but for all your sakes, I'll try to continue and hopefully finish this story. I understand entirely how frustrating it is when an author doesn't update a good story, so please don't hate me... I'm trying.

(on my artistic note, I changed my avatar to one of my new drawings of my main character in my original story... ain't he awesome?)

Toshiro rested his back on the cold stone hazily, staring at the wall across from him. Several angry voices resounded from outside the small room, and the boy recognized his name being mentioned continuously. With a sigh, Toshiro turned his gaze around the room he had woken up in, taking in his surroundings without much care.

The darkness was in every corner, but his eyes had perfectly adjusted to the lack of light. The small room had a damp feeling to it, despite it being floored and walled with stone, so Toshiro concluded that he must be underground, probably one of the villagers' cellars or basements.

As the voices outside grew lower, the boy heaved another sigh, pressing his hand to his temples in hopes of easing a growing headache. He stopped short, however, as he noticed blood sticking to his fingers. With an unfazed glance, he brought his hand down to where the villager had stabbed him, and fingered the tender skin gingerly. The knife had been dug in very deeply, almost through his back. Pressing some ripped cloth from his shihakuso to the wound, Toshiro could only stare at the dark walls as his mind wandered lazily.

It wasn't long, however, before the shouting from outside the cellar returned. Toshiro's eyes didn't give the slightest indication of fear as the door burst open, flooding him with a sudden light.

Voices swarmed around him incoherently as the looming figure of a man approached quickly, and a large hand grabbed him by the remnants of his robe. As the boy stared silently into the man's enraged eyes, he felt an odd sinking in his stomach and his throat tightened slightly, small threads of despair and remorse passed through his heart.

The sudden buts of ruefulness, however, were buried as soon as the villager's fist collided with the boy's gut. Blood congealed in Toshiro's throat, but he didn't utter a sound.

As much as his feelings twisted inside of him, Toshiro refused to let them an ounce of them affect his demeanor in the face of the villagers. Ichigo had told him to express his feelings, and that not doing so was in itself childish and weak, but Toshiro could not allow himself to. Not now.

Defending himself against the hatred of the villagers, the hatred that now led the man before him to bring his knee into the boy's chest, knocking the breath out of him, wasn't something he could bring himself to do when he thought of himself just as guilty as they did.

Somebody had forced the man away, and Toshiro sunk to the floor as he was once more left in darkness. Despair overthrew the boy's heart, and he could only gaze, despondent, at the hard floor, blood streaking across his face and body.

With a short stumble that she hope nobody was around to see, Momo Hinamori made her way into the small clearing she knew her close friend inhabited. Her eyes widened, however, to find Toshiro absent, his small storage of supplies still neatly bundled by a tree, looking untouched, with the exception of one book, which laid on its side in the grass.

The sight agitated Momo's worries. Toshiro, even in exile, had very orderly habits. He would never leave a book outside of its proper place. The girl's breath caught for a moment as her eyes wandered past it and onto the ground nearby, where a purple sheathed zanpaktou lay abandoned.

Momo hands grew sweaty as she examined the area.

"Shiro...? Shiro-chan? Are you here?" Stepping through another set of bushes, Momo worriedly checked the area near the river, glancing around in hopes that her friend would appear. She gave a shiver and ran back to his encampment, nervously grabbing Toshiro's zanpaktou while feeling for his spiritual pressure.

It could be nothing, she told herself. He could've just gone to find some berries, or was finding some fresher water...

No. she concluded He wouldn't leave his zanpaktou behind no matter he was doing. He's been so on edge, he's been carrying it with him everywhere ever since he was exiled. Something must've happened.

Biting her lip in anxiety, she looped Hyourinmaru next to her own zanpaktou, her face set and determined to find her friend.

"You bastard!" Spite streamed through the man's voice as he dragged the small boy out of the cellar by his hair. "Don't you dare stare at me like that! You murdering scum!"

Toshiro's eyes fled to the corner. He couldn't stand the pure rage that boiled in the villager's being, and turned away with a silent and buried desperation.

"I've had enough! Let's stop waiting and just kill him already! Why does he deserve to continue living?" The man momentarily took his furious glare away from the boy who now lay bloody at his feet to yell at the remaining men, his face lined with hatred.

"No, not yet." Another spiteful voice resounded in Toshiro's ears as he stared at the floor, his lucidity dwindling. "There are still others who deserve to have their share in revenge. We'll wait until tomorrow."

Giving a loud growl, the man above him spat a curse and dug his foot into Toshiro's head. Pain rang through the boy's mind as his thoughts blurred. It wasn't long before the villager pulled away, only to bring his fist into the soul reaper's gut, punching his rock hard fist into his stomach with a curse every time.

Toshiro couldn't bring himself to make many clear thoughts as the force of each blow rocked his body and blood choked in his throat.

"Stop! Stop it immediately!"

The sound of another voice turned every head. An elderly man rushed into the room, pushing the villager above Toshiro aside and stood protectively over the boy.

"That's enough! We don't actually know that he's completely guilty, this isn't right!"

The village elder glared at the two men in the room, his normally calm and kind eyes furious with their injustice. Below him, Toshiro tore his gaze from the hard, cold floor, and stared up at the older man, slightly startled.

I'm gonna try to update as soon as possible, as to prevent this month-long-procrastination thing. Please review me, even if I don't really deserve it. But since I'm pretty much gonna get started on the next chapter right away, the immediate support would be highly appreciated... hopefully with a update within the next few days... HOPEFULLY...