Drool, glimmering in the orange light of lanterns, dripping onto a grey, stone floor. A low growl rumbled through the iron bars, humming with spiritual energy themselves, and shook the teeth of any nearby. It fell from the teeth-filled maw of a monster, clad in a mask of white, as it stared through its cage at the man outside of it: well-built, with long, golden hair tied into a single tail. He stood with a wooden-hilted Zanpakutō at his waist, a hand rested idly on what would be the pommel.
A finger tapped at it, silently, as he stared forward at the monster before him. Its breath seeped through the entire area and mixed with the others further in either direction. Row after row, cages of what had to be dozens, Hollows all. Some screamed, some shook at the bars reinforced by Bakudō, others slept, and some few gnawed—fewer still gnawed on themselves.
That was how the Ninth knew they needed to use it quickly, before it expired.
An underground facility of Hollows gathered from Earth. Some questioned, others studied, while a select subset were used for a variety of other purposes—such as by the Tenth Division, or the Twelfth. A place everyone knew the Ninth possessed, though few spoke of it, and the Thirteenth staunchly opposed.
“Sir?” A voice called out to the golden-haired man. An older man, thin and almost spindly, with another Zanpakutō at this hip—this one with a proper hilt and guard.
“Third Seat Nakamura?” He repeated when the larger man failed to answer.
He glanced once to his guest in confusion. Only then did Nakamura turn his head, lay eyes on the Shinigami who had brought the Ninth’s guest, and then onto the man himself:
Fourth Seat of the Sixth Division—
“—Hidekawa, I’ve brought him,” he explained, then turned to the superior officer of another Division, bowed, and excused himself.
Nakamura’s green eyes studied Takahiro for a few, brief moments in silence.
“You’ve quite the reputation, Fourth Seat Hidekawa,” Nakamura greeted him, albeit in his own way. “It has grown since the Academy.”
Another, lower growl, as if threatened by the presence of two Officer-class Shinigami, rolled out of the Hollow before the man. The others in the prison of sorts began to protest more loudly themselves. One grabbed at its bars, shaking them like an ape, while another chewed clean through its own wrist and its hand fell onto the floor. Blood poured from the stump as it started to eat more of its own limb.
Nakamura sighed.
“I apologize for calling you to such a strange and unwelcoming place,” he turned his full attention to Takahiro. “It’s something many know of, speak of, but few seldom ever see. I believe it best like that.”
His eyes lingered on Takahiro’s own Zanpakutō for a few moments.
“Are you well, after what happened there?” Nakamura suddenly asked.
“After all that I saw inside that place, you’re one of the few I can meaningfully ask.”
A finger tapped at it, silently, as he stared forward at the monster before him. Its breath seeped through the entire area and mixed with the others further in either direction. Row after row, cages of what had to be dozens, Hollows all. Some screamed, some shook at the bars reinforced by Bakudō, others slept, and some few gnawed—fewer still gnawed on themselves.
That was how the Ninth knew they needed to use it quickly, before it expired.
An underground facility of Hollows gathered from Earth. Some questioned, others studied, while a select subset were used for a variety of other purposes—such as by the Tenth Division, or the Twelfth. A place everyone knew the Ninth possessed, though few spoke of it, and the Thirteenth staunchly opposed.
“Sir?” A voice called out to the golden-haired man. An older man, thin and almost spindly, with another Zanpakutō at this hip—this one with a proper hilt and guard.
“Third Seat Nakamura?” He repeated when the larger man failed to answer.
He glanced once to his guest in confusion. Only then did Nakamura turn his head, lay eyes on the Shinigami who had brought the Ninth’s guest, and then onto the man himself:
Fourth Seat of the Sixth Division—
“—Hidekawa, I’ve brought him,” he explained, then turned to the superior officer of another Division, bowed, and excused himself.
Nakamura’s green eyes studied Takahiro for a few, brief moments in silence.
“You’ve quite the reputation, Fourth Seat Hidekawa,” Nakamura greeted him, albeit in his own way. “It has grown since the Academy.”
Another, lower growl, as if threatened by the presence of two Officer-class Shinigami, rolled out of the Hollow before the man. The others in the prison of sorts began to protest more loudly themselves. One grabbed at its bars, shaking them like an ape, while another chewed clean through its own wrist and its hand fell onto the floor. Blood poured from the stump as it started to eat more of its own limb.
Nakamura sighed.
“I apologize for calling you to such a strange and unwelcoming place,” he turned his full attention to Takahiro. “It’s something many know of, speak of, but few seldom ever see. I believe it best like that.”
His eyes lingered on Takahiro’s own Zanpakutō for a few moments.
“Are you well, after what happened there?” Nakamura suddenly asked.
“After all that I saw inside that place, you’re one of the few I can meaningfully ask.”