"You bastard! Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!" he yelled as he kicked me. With each blow, a new wave of pain washed over me.
"Enough!" the mustachioed man growled. "Or I'll leave you without balls myself!"
He stopped instantly.
Spat on me and walked away.
"Heh," the mustachioed man approached. I couldn't even see properly anymore. "You're not bad. Using Shunpo at your age… You must be talented. You'll definitely get into First Class at the Academy." He patted my head, then grabbed me by the hair and lifted me up. "I hate talented brats," he growled.
"Pff!" I spat blood into his face.
"You can still move after so many beatings and under Bakudō," he smirked. "You keep forcing me to think up more and more original ways to torture you."
Then I heard rustling in the bushes — from the direction where Hotaru and the others had run.
I froze, staring that way.
A third shinigami emerged. Short and fat.
The flow of tears only grew stronger.
My chest throbbed with pain…
"Finished?" asked the mustachioed one.
"Yeah," replied the short man cheerfully. "They lured me onto the bridge. I almost fell into the river."
"Did you deal with them?"
"Sure. Gave them a little steel and sent them swimming!"
"HA-ha-hahHa!" the big man burst into laughter. The other bandits, who had already finished looting and smashing everything around, laughed too. Honoka-san's body lay on the ground. She had no clothes on. Bruises and wounds covered her. She was soaked in blood.
I lay there, barely conscious.
I couldn't save anyone. Everyone is dead. Everyone.
Honoka-san… Andy-san… Old Man Bori… Tetsu… Tatsu… Hotaru…
They're dead…
Those days flashed before my eyes — those clear, warm days. Playing with the twins. Honoka-san bandaging my knee. Andy-san telling us about his homeland. Old Man Bori grumbling and lecturing. Hotaru chatting with me… Andy-san teaching us Battleship, all of us spending time together. And yesterday… we ran away from the boar together…
"Well, that's fine," the mustachioed man nodded. His voice pulled me out of my memories. "What next?" He turned to the man in white.
"We'll take it from here," the white-robed man said with a smile. I recognized him. This is the very same preacher. "Kill the boy. Let everyone think the Marked Ones tortured him. He's already done enough by giving us this place."
"Just like that?" the shinigami laughed.
"Yes. Let everyone think Hollow killed him. This powder was made by a friend of mine from District 82. That way, everyone will be certain it was Hollow. And you'll confirm it. But we should mutilate the bodies a bit more — otherwise they'll easily figure out what happened."
"Let's say it was a perverted Hollow," suggested the short man.
"No problem. A couple of kidō, and no one will ever find out," the mustachioed one agreed. "But first, let's deal with the boy." He crouched beside me and ran his hand over my cheek. "Cute," he nodded. "The captain forbids us from having fun with girls from other divisions… and you can't have fun with ordinary girls anymore. I think you'll do just fine to entertain us." He licked his lips.
Everything inside me froze.
Freaks! And these were shinigami? Were they really like this? Were they really like this?!
I hate them. I hate them. I hate them!
They were laughing. All of them were laughing. At me. One of them kicked Honoka-san's corpse. Another set fire to Old Man Bori, who, it turns out, was still alive. He screamed in agony, writhing and dying.
The tears wouldn't stop. I couldn't stop crying. It hurt. God, it hurt. I was so weak! I couldn't save anyone! I couldn't do anything! They found them because of me. If not for me—
I hate myself.
The raindrops were so cold. So heavy. Each drop stung my head. Each one echoed through my body. The rain was so cold…
"YOU WILL PAY FOR EVERYTHING!!!" I screamed and bit the bastard's hand. "GRRR!!!"
"You little freak!" The shinigami's fist slammed into my face and threw me back. It was a miracle my neck didn't snap.
"First I'll knock out all your teeth. Then I'll cut off your arms and legs so you can't move. Don't worry — I know a bit of healing kidō. You won't die from the pain." He drew his sword and walked toward me. He grabbed my neck and lifted me up to his face.
I couldn't breathe.
Everything darkened… Forgive me…
"Yare yare…"
Here, I am abruptly pinned to the ground. The endless rain has turned the earth into mud.
I couldn't breathe. I was pinned down, and the mud filled my mouth and nose.
Suddenly, the pressure vanished.
I forced myself to lift my head…
What I saw made me freeze.
Everyone else was lying on the ground too.
The shinigami turned pale and crawled away from me in horror. No. Not from me.
With effort, I turned my head.
A silver kimono. Gray hair. Narrowed eyes and a fox-like smile.
"Gi… n?" I croaked.
"Lieutenant of the 5th Division… Ichimaru Gin…" the mustachioed man stammered, trembling. So he was a shinigami? Exactly! I remember now. Rangiku once mentioned someone named Gin. Was this him? "Sir! We can explain everything! You misunderstood—"
"Yare yare," Gin shook his head. "No need for words. I understand everything." His smile widened. He slowly raised his hand and revealed a wakizashi. "Shoot to kill… Shinso."he whispered.
"No! Don't! Have mercy!" the shinigami screamed, bursting into tears—but it was too late. The blade extended in a blur, piercing all three of them. I didn't even see it happen. He easily dealt with the three of them, and then took care of the rest.
The fat priest tried to run, but Gin sliced him apart with a single swing. Pieces of flesh flew through the air and fell like rain. He did the same with the remaining bandits.
I threw up at the sight. Shreds of flesh lay everywhere. I struggled to stay conscious.
And he stood calmly in the middle of it all.
The invisible force restraining me faded.
"Yare yare," Gin smiled. "And this on my day off." He stepped closer. "You sure know how to get yourself into trouble…"
Cold… My chest felt so cold and empty…
And then the cold darkness swallowed me whole.