The flash of light would have blinded the populace had they been able to see it. It plummeted to the Earth from the sky, and in a burst of flame, struck water just off the shore of a tiny island, one of hundreds in the volcanic chain. The only evidence that anything had happened was a slight rumble, a common occurrence on a volcano. From the small crater left beneath the waves, a man stepped onto the beach. The salty water dripped from his body as his steps steadily carried him onto the sand. Steam rose from him as he shook himself off. He looked around cautiously. He knew that the odds of anyone being nearby were slim, but the odds of anyone with any spirit power being nearby were practically impossible. His landing was successful. He had completed the first step in his infiltration of the American Death Gods.
Brushing some sand off of his sheath, he continued walking into the jungle, the waves rolling onto the beach washing away his footsteps and any evidence of his landing. Using his keen senses, he determined that there was a cluster of low spirit energy only a few miles away. They were just normal humans, but they were his ticket to finding a way into Heaven, the American Soul Society. He picked up the pace and leapt from tree to tree, scanning for any obstructions or distractions. His movements were practically silent and incredibly quick. Aizen was not just buttering him up when he called him powerful; he genuinely meant it. Using his concentration techniques, he kept his spirit level almost totally hidden.
Finally he saw it. He stopped on a branch, crouched, and peered through the leaves. A small town nestled in the woods. He noted the path of the dirt roads leading in and out of the town, the few buildings scattered along. He only saw two vehicles, both of them for off-road use. As small as it was, and even with a tiny population, people still died, and Death Gods still needed to come guide the souls away. Pulling his sword from his sheath slowly, he spotted his victim. A single man, going slightly grey, walked with a stick behind a building. He motioned as if he was making sure nobody was around, then spread his legs slightly and faced a building.
"Disgusting human." Seven spat as he pounced. His powerful legs shot him silently towards the unsuspecting man as he was slashed in half. His body collapsed in two pieces, his stick falling in the dirt next to him. Blood sprayed against the building and formed a growing pool on the ground beneath the body. Seven sheathed his sword and quickly dropped his spirit force to nothing, leaping back into a tree to take cover. The man's soul quickly stood from his body and panicked. He looked around frantically, crying at the sight of his own dead body.
"Easy, tiger, easy!" A voice called. The startled spirit quickly looked over and saw two men walking up casually.
"Who are you?!" The man practically screeched as he fell backwards against the building. The two men seemed to be wearing jeans and matching black t-shirts, black boots, and black leather belts. The biggest difference, Seven noted, was their immense spirit force and swords hanging from their hips. These were American Death Gods, and one was new. He could tell by his inability to control the fluctuations of his spirit force and the fact that he was tagging along with another one. A simple death in the woods wouldn't warrant two Death Gods under any circumstance.
"Look at that," The new one said to his trainer. "That's no ordinary murder." The other nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, but we'll get to that in a second. Right now we've got a panicking soul to help. That's your job first and foremost, kid." He explained. The new guy nodded and allowed his trainer to continue.
"Listen, man, we're here to help you. Something very bad just happened to you, man. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time, but we're here to help you." He explained as he crouched near the man. He struggled to stay against the building and away from the two Death Gods, pushing away at them and crying.
"Go away! I -! You-! I'm dead! Oh God, I'm dead!" He cried. The new guy frowned in pity. The trainer rested his hand on the man's knee.
"Easy, champ. Yeah, you died, but it's okay. Do you know what happens when you leave your body, bud?" He comforted the man. The man wiped a tear away and sniffled.
"I go to Heaven?" He asked, hesitantly. The Death God smiled big.
"That's right, buddy. You go to Heaven. Our job is to take you there, but you have to want to come with us. You don't want to stick around here and haunt these people, do you? Of course not…" He answered softly. He took his hand off the man's knee and stood up. He offered his hand down to the soul. The man looked at him hesitantly and then back at his mutilated body.
"What happened to me?" He asked, shaking. The two Death Gods frowned, but it was the new one who spoke first.
"We don't know, but we're going to find out what did this to you and make things right. We can't do that if you don't come with us, though." He answered honestly. The trainer nodded in approval.
"So what do you say, champ? Shall we go?" He kept his hand offered to the man, who finally grasped it firmly and stood. "'Atta boy! Open a door, kid, and you pass class for today." The kid grinned and turned around. Raising his sword from its sheath, he brought it out directly in front of him and focused. The area around his sword went dark as the light twisted. Finally, a doorway appeared with his sword thrust through it. The trainer continued holding the frightened spirits hand.
"Is that the door to Heaven?" He stuttered. The trainer nodded happily.
"Sure is, champ. That's home. We'll take care of things here; all you have to do is walk through that door." He answered, letting go of his hand. The soul took a small step forward, the new kid moving to the side and sheathing his sword. The man looked at him, as if asking approval. The kid smiled and nodded.
"Go for it," He said simply. With that, the man took another few confident steps forward and found himself walking through the doorway. Seven seized his chance and felt no remorse. With a sudden, almost immeasurable burst of speed that broke his spirit level concealment, he fired off of the branch and brought his sword up. Less than a second later, his blade had disemboweled the new kid, his body dropping like a fly to the ground.
"James!" The trainer shouted in hysteria. He quickly turned to his assailant and brought out his sword. Seven's Japanese-style katana was small and elegant compared to the almost medieval style long sword carried by the American. "You son of a bitch! You're the bastard that got that guy, aren't you! Who are you?!" He demanded, his spirit force rising rapidly. Seven kept his spirit level matched appropriately, and said nothing. "Answer me!"
"I'm afraid that I cannot let you live." Seven spoke in perfect English. With that, he increased his spirit force tremendously and lunged at the American. As he brought his Soul Slayer to the American's chest, his blade was suddenly stopped. The American had actually blocked his attack. He stood for a moment, in complete shock. He had doubled his spirit power in an instant, and he hadn't even felt it! The American used the opportunity well, and delivered a swift kick to Seven's chest, sending him sprawling backwards.
"Yeah, you're pretty quick, but so am I." The American boasted, circling his enemy with this sword up. Seven rescanned his opponent and reevaluated his ability. His spirit level hadn't gone up; he was simply that good in combat. Seven acknowledged this, and raised his spirit level exponentially to compensate. The sudden increase in force caused the American to get slightly light-headed and weak at the knees. Seven stood calmly and raised his Soul Slayer. With a final thrust, he put it through the American's heart before he even saw him move.
"I told you, I cannot let you live." He repeated as he pulled his sword out and sheathed it. The American fell to his knees and coughed up a heap of blood. Seven turned to the doorway and began walking.
"You're too late, you know." The American sputtered as more blood erupted from him. Seven stopped and replied without turning.
"Your attempts to delay me are ineffective and futile." He answered calmly. With that, he continued his confident stride towards the door. The American laughed heartily, the last bit of blood he could spare gushing from him. Seven stopped and removed his sword.
"That's right, come finish the job. You can't bear being taunted, can ya, chief?" He laughed. "But like I said, it's too late." Seven finally sighed and turned around, preparing to finish off his adversary. What he saw in front of him, however, was not his adversary.
"You killed two of my boys, friend. I'm afraid that I cannot let you live." A new voice mocked him, standing overtop the collapsed body of the fallen trainer. This one was younger than them, maybe only a few years older than the Ichigo boy Aizen feared. He wore the same jeans, boots, and belt of the other two men, but instead of wearing the black t-shirt, he wore a sleeveless white shirt they called a 'wife-beater.' His blonde hair was styled as unusual as Ichigo's, but instead of carrying a Soul Slayer so massive that it couldn't be compacted, he wore a single, elegant dagger at his waist. Seven took a step back and dropped to a knee as the boy flexed his spirit power. It was nothing short of Earth-shaking. He doubted even Aizen had power like this. "What's the matter? Getting a little too heavy for you?" He taunted with a laugh.
"If you stand in my way, I will be forced to eliminate you as well." Seven replied calmly. The boys' eyes grew large as he flexed his spirit force even larger. The sky seemed to dim and the Earth rumbled slightly as Seven fell to his stomach, unable to control his bodily motions.
"Eliminate me?!" He shouted angrily. "You're lucky I'm giving you the opportunity to explain yourself before I end your existence, you son of a bitch! Now either get busy talking, or get busy dying!" He issued his challenge. He then closed his eyes and sighed, bringing his spirit force back down to tolerable levels, before it suddenly and totally vanished.
"Damn, boss, you almost got me too." A second voice came from behind Seven, seemingly out of breath. A man dressed almost identical to this new one, except that he wore a white t-shirt with sleeves and carried a Soul Slayer similar to his own, walked past him and took his place next to the angered boy.
"Sorry, Hona. This asshole decided to be a hard-ass to me." He explained. The man shrugged it off. He was of Japanese blood, Seven deduced. That would explain his katana-style Soul Slayer and Asian appearance while fighting as an American. Seven quickly stood and faced the two men. The younger of the two was easily powerful enough to make short work of him, and he had no idea how much power his lesser had. Both of them appeared to exert no spirit power whatsoever at the moment. He was outmatched, and he knew it. Thinking quickly, he changed his plans.
"You are not American." He said, looking at Hona. The Death God scowled.
"Yeah, I am. My family was born in Japan, but I was born here. You got a problem with that?" He sneered. Seven quickly accepted this decision and bent down. He picked up the sword belonging to the fallen trainee.
"Now just what in the Hell do you think you're doing?" The younger one asked, impatiently. Mustering all his power and speed, Seven quickly moved and knocked Hona down onto his back and shot into the doorway, the back of his uniform being ripped violently by the younger ones sudden slashing. As he moved through the doorway, he used the power from the sword he picked up to close it just before the younger one could enter.
"Son of a bitch – how did I not see that coming?" Hona muttered as he stood up. The younger one slipped his dagger back into its sheath and hung it on the inside of his jeans. Offering a hand, he helped Hona off the ground. He stared at the bodies of the two fallen Death Gods as Hona wiped the dirt off his clothes.
"Don't worry about it, he put all of his strength into that one move, I guarantee he's weak and needs to rest bad after that one. Let's get these two taken care of, Heaven can handle him."
Urahara's eyes opened wide. He was easily miles from the spirit force he felt, but it actually made his heart race. He'd never felt a spirit force that massive before. He took a moment to catch his breath and began moving at full speed towards its source. At first he felt two powerful sources. Then a third easily captain-level. The other was shy of lieutenant, but sharp. He felt one fluctuate, and then suddenly drop off. He also felt another grow strong – to captain level – extremely quickly – but suddenly drop back to nothingness twice. Death Gods, once they reached a certain level, were trained to control their spirit force, but not like the way he felt.
He finally got close enough where he could almost see the targets and masked his spirit level. He bounded through the woods until he found himself standing on the ground looking ahead to see two men bagging up two bodies, with another mutilated body sprawled against a building, obviously a human. The two bagging them seemed to exert no spirit force whatsoever, making them obviously Death Gods. Urahara straightened his robe and began walking out of the woods. The two men paid him no mind, so he allowed himself to exert a tiny amount of spirit force, easily recognizable to another Death God as a comrade. The two men stopped and looked up at him.
"Good morning, friends!" He greeted cheerfully. The two men stared at each other and then turned back to him.
"Who are you?" The Asian-looking one asked. He tapped his cane on the ground and raised his hat so that he could see them more easily. They didn't appear to see him as hostile, which was a good start.
"I am Urahara Kisuke, former Death God Captain for the nation of Japan." He introduced himself with a slight bow. The younger man stepped forward to greet him.
"I'm Jas, American Death God Captain, and you, sir, are far from home. Is your arrival somehow connected with the son of a bitch that did this?" He motioned to the two bagged Death God bodies and the body of the civilian laying a few yards away. Urahara grimaced.
"I'm too late, then. I'm tracking a Hollow working for a former Death God Captain named Aizen from Japan who said he had plans here in Hawaii. Do you know anything?" Jas nodded slightly.
"Yeah, the bastard came through and drew out some local Death Gods by killing that one," He explained, motioning to the corpse. "Then, after they opened a doorway to Heaven, he ambushed them. I made it here just in time to watch that one die," He continued, pointing to one of the two bags. "But he felt our spirit force and took off like a bat out of Hell." Urahara nodded in understanding.
"Do you know where he went? Or what he's after?" He continued.
"As far as I know, he was just looking for a way into Heaven. Our guards should capture him soon, though, and we can interrogate him then." The captain suggested. Urahara smiled.
"I'd be honored to accompany you." He bowed slightly. Jas offered his hand, which Urahara took.
"Welcome to America."