Elk
Member
His hand moved over his eyes as he lay on the floor, the thought of his family dying to a plague developed by Soul Society resurfacing. This thought had crossed his mind several times during his career, yet he always dismissed it. Now, however, it was becoming clearer—all thanks to one man. Even if it was just an anomaly in the records, he would have his answer soon. By this point, though, it wouldn’t matter.
Yet, there he lay, wallowing in his depression, until finally a knock came at his door, snapping him back to the reality at hand.
“Sir, your guest has taken off from the barracks. If I may ask, what did you bring him here for?”
An awkward pause followed as Elk remained silent to the question. Slowly, he rose, letting out a yawn and wiping his tears into his sleeve before finally propping himself up and opening the door, where he towered over his fellow squad member, yet his face seemed to be one of embarrassment as he looked down upon him.
“Long story short, I lost a game of rock, paper, scissors and had to pay the price of teaching him a kidō spell… That’s what I get for admitting I was in the Kidō Corps.”
Half a lie, half the truth, he looked down at the man with a smile on his face. He wasn’t sure what else to say, but it was believable enough. Elk’s less-than-desirable reputation in the barracks worked in his favor.
“Hey! I just got an idea. Why don’t you round up several of the members who need improvement with barrier creation? Pair them with those skilled in the craft to act as mentors. Have the skilled ones set up the first barrier around the barracks and let the others practice using it as a reference to build their own. If anyone comes knocking, inform me in the training room. And if they break the barrier, attack them on sight—treat them like the enemy, even if they’re a lieutenant or captain. It’ll be good training for everyone.”
The squad member nodded slightly before walking off. It didn’t take long for the member to gather everyone needed. As he began instructing them on their task, the more skilled members in the craft of barrier-making started setting it up—a transparent shield designed to appear inconspicuous from the outside. However, for training purposes, the inside displayed a diverse range of colors scattering across the sky, allowing the less experienced members to study both the user and the barrier itself. They then began creating their own barriers, attempting to mimic those made by their impromptu mentors.
Elk turned and headed back down to the training room. This time, instead of entering the previous room, he stopped at a quarantined one. Pressing the button to open it, orange mist oozed out, only to collide with a yellow barrier that shielded the outside from its contents. Most would walk past this room without even noticing it, as its purpose was to deter curiosity. For the higher-ups within the Kidō Corps, it was the solution to a dire problem.
Walking past the mist revealed another hallway, though this one seemed to be rotting away, as the walls oozed a viscous liquid. An orange barrier seemed to be the only thing holding this rot in its place. As he walked through, he passed several rooms, each one filled with skeletons—poor, unfortunate souls caught in what happened here years ago. Each step he took riddled him with guilt, as he pressed his fingers on the barrier, increasing its density and reinforcing it to prevent the rot from spreading further into the barracks. If one were to look at him, they would notice a look of guilt and shame, as he continued reinforcing parts of the barrier around the halls before finally reaching a door—one that had been untouched by rot and decay.
As he opened the door, it revealed something unexpected: a room filled with large computers and equally large monitors running across the walls, with various instruments humming and ticking away. Several computer monitors displayed streams of data, though he couldn’t even guess as what it was. All he knew was that this computer wasn’t on anyone’s network and had been calculating something for nine years straight. The sound of typing could be heard as a figure stood on the other end of the room—a woman, short in stature, who wore the standard Shinigami uniform with the exception of a white lab coat covering up the top half of her body.
“I noticed you brought someone from the 12th Division. Did you finally get the confirmation you needed?”
“…No, but the anomaly he found in the records was enough for me to think you’re right.”
“I’m always right. I saw the files and where they deployed the plague.”
“…”
He said nothing. It felt like an old wound reopening, made worse by her throwing salt into it. His hand twitched, clenching into a fist. She always knew how to get under his skin, one of the reasons he limited his contact with her.
“Anyways, your patience has finally paid off.”
With the press of a button, a small circle in the floor opened up, and a pillar rose upward, accompanied by a white mist. Resting atop the pillar was a glass box containing a black orb, encased in protective material.
“This is it? I thought it would be bigger… It also looks—”
“Incomplete? Yes, it’s not done yet. I did my part; now it’s your turn to fill it up.” [/color]
“Fill it up? That should be easy—it just needs reiryoku, right?”
A devilish smile crept across her face as she looked up at the naive Shinigami before her. Her next words would shatter him. She relished these moments, knowing she could always get under his skin. It was her way of making her imprisonment as miserable as possible for him.
“No. It needs souls to power the Hōgyoku.”
“Hōgyoku? Souls?”
His head shot up, his expression a mix of shock and disgust. The very thought of killing people within the Soul Society made him gag and nearly vomit. His fists clenched, but he reminded himself of the promise he had made over ten years ago: to spare her life and keep her alive in exchange for something that would grant his deepest desire.
“Yes, do I need to repeat myself?”
If he wanted to achieve his goal, he would have to bear the guilt of slaughtering those in the Rukongai. Fortunately—or unfortunately—there seemed to be no shortage of souls who had lived less-than-ideal afterlives there. Still, the knowledge that innocents might end up in his crosshairs made him sigh and slump down.
“Very well… We’re nearly done with our plans. As I promised you once this is all done, you’re coming to the world of the living…”
He wasn’t too sure if it was a good idea to abandon her to her own devices in the world of the living, or keep her at arms length to prevent her from doing any harm to humans.
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