The pain was fading. He knew what it meant.
You're dying.
No. No, I can't. I have a job to do.
You were never much good at it.
That doesn't matter! I've helped a few people; even if it's only one person, it's still one more than it would have been without me!
There's no one in particular.
There's everyone! I'm a policeman! I protect the city, and everyone in it!
It's a thankless job.
I'm not doing it for the thanks. I won't die...
What do you have to live for?
I don't worry about stupid crap like that! I have this city! That's all I need!
And the darkness took him.
---
The city itself. Unusual.
But not entirely unknown.
More often, it's a specific person or cause.
He has a cause, of a sort. It is unusual, but not invalid.
His city has made him proud. If it is itself his strength, he would not fare well away from it.
He would not necessarily have to. Chuugoku's Gokancho requires another shinigami, does it not?
It does, my lord.
His tie is proven. What of his capacity for magic?
Present, but nothing to remark on. He will have a special ability if he is awakened in Meifu, however.
As do so many. Very well; the two requirements are met. Begin the tests.
Yes, my lord.
---
Terazuma glared at the man standing at the end of the alley, the illegal gun in his hands planted squarely at the temple of the girl he held in front of him.
"Go on. Get out of here! I swear I'll shoot her if you don't back up!" The man's voice was pitched with growing tones of panic. The girl pulled tearfully at his arms, terrified eyes locked on Terazuma's.
"You don't want to do that," Terazuma drawled, stalling for time as his mind raced. "Police'll catch up to you eventually, and you really don't want a murder charge on your head."
"I said get back!"
He sighed. "I really didn't want to have to do this," he said reluctantly. Before the man had time to respond, he'd drawn his gun in a flash and pressed it to his own head.
"W-what are you doing?!" The man's arms tightened uncertainly around his hostage.
"It's worth my head if I let you walk off with her. I could just save myself the trouble now, unless you wanna have some pity and let the girl go."
"Fuck off!"
"That's what I thought." A sigh, a lightning quick shift in the angle of the gun, and he pulled the trigger.
The man looked around frantically in the echoing of the gunshot, the ring of shattering glass in a window, and the scream from the girl he held. The blur of movement drew his eye back to the ground and he saw, too late, that the policeman has dropped only into a crouch and was halfway into a barreling leap at him.
The hairs on the back of his neck still standing on end from the bullet that had narrowly missed them, Terazuma watched as the girl tore away when he tackled the man and grabbed for the gun.
---
A most unexpected turn of events.
You sound amused, my lord.
It was an amusing decision. To bow his head and shoot out the window.
It was quite a risk. There were many things that could have gone wrong.
But the point is that they did not. And it seems that he is also more observant than most--the window was very small.
Some might call it foolhardy.
I prefer unorthodox. We know what we need to know. Carry on.
---
"Terazuma-san, you are being most unreasonable."
"Shove it, rich boy," Terazuma growled, one hand on his gun, the other pulling out handcuffs.
"Really, sir officer, what proof do you have against me for fraud and bribery?"
"Don't forget arranging a murder. Now turn around and stop talking."
The young man didn't move. A calculating gleam had entered his eyes. "You're very dedicated, Terazuma-san," he said casually. "You know, my uncle is a good friend of the superintendent general. A word from him either way could see you promoted or thrown out onto the streets."
Terazuma went very still for a moment, then looked up, eyes narrow. "You're saying you could get me promoted?"
"The higher ranking officers need to know how to pick their battles, and when to retreat. Prove that you've the wisdom and, yes, a promotion might be..."
The young businessman's words were cut off by the roundhouse punch delivered squarely to his jaw. He staggered back, falling against his desk, scattering pens and sending papers fluttering.
"Resisting arrest by means of a bribe. Oh, I'll make special note of that, you pretentious little snot. The general's a good man, and you can bet your overdressed ass he'll hear all about this."
---
He did, I believe, very much desire a promotion?
Indeed. It would seem his devotion to duty was stronger.
Or his temper simply that quick. He didn't give it much thought. But the point is there. Continue.
---
You have to reach the other encampment with news of the enemy's new forces. You're our fastest runner, Terazuma. Our lives rely on your swiftness.
Terazuma sped his pace, the bundle of dispatched tucked inside his shirt bumping against his chest. The ache in his side from running had gradually become a constant stab of pain with every stride, a knifing pain drowning out the burning exhaustion in his legs. The sound of his footfalls was a dim rumble in his ears, and his heartbeat drummed against his ribs, his breath tearing at his throat.
He kept running. Another few miles yet. Nothing he couldn't managed, he reassured himself mentally, the thought dim, wordless against the force and toll of exertion.
He barely heard the gunshot that tore into his shoulder. Stumbling, he shot a panicked look over his shoulder, searching in vain for the gunman. Not having the breath to curse, he clutched at the wound and searched desperately for cover. But no, he couldn't just go to ground and wait; every second brought the enemy closer. Bedamn his shoulder. He had to keep moving.
The blood pumping between his fingers was harder to ignore, but in the windswept silence, he heard only his ragged breathing. Has the unseen soldier run out of bullets? A warning shot? Something meant only to hinder him?
Keep running.
It was getting harder; his legs kept trying to fold when they weren't supposed to, the burning in his abdomen hurt worse than the bullet wound.
Keep running.
He was losing strength, and the dip in the ground caught him unprepared. He tumbled headlong, the heavy landing drawing an involuntary cry from his throat. Trembling with exertion, he pushed himself to his knees, then staggered to his feet, setting to running again, pain flaying mercilessly at his legs.
The second bullet ripped into his lower leg, agony blossoming full and red across his vision. Wild-eyed, he looked around as he stumbled, struggling to stay upright.
No one. There was no one! Who was firing?!
A third punctured his side, and he fell again.
Half-sobbing with the pain, he clenched his hands in the low grass, feeling the missives grate against the fresh wound, and began to crawl forward, light-headed, the low hills reeling before him.
I have to keep going. I have to...
His arms buckled and he snarled defiance to the empty skies, forcing himself forward another few inches before the blackness rushed forth and swallowed him.
---
Most impressive. Many never even reach the first bullet.
Less endurance than it is sheer stubbornness, I think, but the end result is much the same Full marks. Move on.
---
For a moment, he felt her weight pulling at his clenched fingers, then she began to thrash about like a trussed bird and her arms slipped free of the sleeves. He barely had time to see the backward glance she cast him through unruly black hair before she hit the river's surface.
He cursed and, running along the bank, struggled out of his coat.
Wait... There aren't any ladders along this section... And who's going to be out this late at night?
He slowed, hesitating. How far downstream was the next ladder? He couldn't remember. Torn, he stared at the young form borne swiftly down the river.
She was trying to kill herself; am I going to get killed without it meaning anything?
He saw her pale face cast in the yellowed arcs from the streetlights for a moment before the waters closed over her head. Cursing his hesitation, he broke into a sprint again, vaulting the railing.
The cold struck him like shattering glass.
---
It gave him pause.
Perhaps, but he still leapt for her.
Yes.
It will suffice. Continue.
---
Her tears burned against his neck.
"Hajime! Hajime, you have to help me!"
His arms wrapped around her of their own volition while he stared numbly at the corpse of the noblewoman behind her, the spill of dark hair, the pooling blood from the small lady's dagger driven into her side.
"What have you done?" He spoke the words without recognizing them as his own.
"Please!" she cried, looking up at him. Her hair, piled high off her head, had begun to slip loose from the ornate pins meant to hold it in place; strands of it framed her white face, tangling at her neck. The ends of her court robes were stained with blood; it soaked the rich embroidery along the sleeves. Stitched birds along the front flew in a red-splotched sky.
"Hajime! Please! You're a guard at the gate; we can escape, take a ship. We'll just disappear together."
He stared at her, trying to quell the scream rising inside. Looking up at his blank, shocked expression, she clenched her hands in the fabric of his shirt and buried her face in his chest, her slim body torn with weeping.
"Why?" he whispered, his voice gone hollow with horror as loyalties warred, snarling together, knotting in his stomach.
"I had to," she choked. "She was going to tell everyone about us!"
The words slammed into him like a clap of thunder, a thousand swords drummed on steel. Being with her, that had not been such a conflict, but this...
"Hajime! I love you, please, let's flee, tonight..."
Love for her clamored inside him, but duty to his oaths strangled the words in his throat. The punishment for this would be her death. How could he allow that? But how could he break oath? What could he do...?
"I'm so sorry..." He held her close and whispered the words into her hair, turning his face away as her head jerked up, his name torn from her lips. Arms tight around her, he drew a dagger, forcing himself to ignore her struggles and frantic please. Striking the back of her head neatly with the hilt, he sank with her to the floor, cradling her body.
It's because I was with you at all that this happened. Half the blame is mine. I will give myself up with you, and if it is possible for my death to buy your life, then you will live.
---
Most would have fled with her.
Which is why most do not become shinigami. But of those who choose otherwise, most turn her in alone or take the blame solely upon themselves.
He knows, then, how to place blame when he himself is partially at fault.
Admirable, often lacking, and more often overlooked. He has passed.
Your word and seal, my lord. Shall I inform Konoe that Area Four has a new trainee?
See to it.
Yes, Enma-sama.
Thanks to EAG for the proofread, and anyone who has given or will give me feedback. EAG asked if any of the tests were real things that happened to him, and the answer is no--all of the tests were made-up scenarios created to test his reaction to one thing or another.