Kunikida's mouth gapes open.

When he is younger, his parents would tell him about the lore of his people. They tell him of the yuki-onna in the mountains, to wary of the onis hidden in the forests. And sometimes, when the night is long and the skies are laden with pitch, his parents whispered about the Shinigami.

Kunikida doesn't take much stock in old wives' tales, but he remembers that they reap the souls of humans.

The blond audibly swallows and tries to step back.

But the mischief and utter inhumanity inside the Shinigami's eyes root him to the spot.

What little bravado Kunikida had, is now gone.

"Could you…" He falters, no longer keen on talking. Kunikida licks his lips and tries again. "Could you repeat that?"

The brunet clicks his tongue, bemused by the man's cowardice.

"You haven't written a single name, Doppo." The Shinigami takes a threatening step in Kunikida's direction.

"I wonder why."

Kunikida bolts around the Shinigami and heads out the door.