Fists of Calamity! Two Grandmasters Collide!

Spectre of the Past
, Sabitsura District. Afternoon.

In a place far removed from the brilliant glory of the and the martial power of the Gotei 13, there lived people. Or rather, their. And where those Souls lived, without any form of authority imposed upon them, they did human things. They idled, stole, sang, raped, fought, philosophised. Without the false construct of order reigning in their base insticts, they embodied chaos in a way. They acted led with a medley of desires and emotions that together formed the incomprehensible abomination of a gestalt that was existence.

For thousands upon thousands of years they endured and struggled the horrors of reality. Without the lies and empty words of devious people to divert their attention toward idealised simulacra, they had to forever cope with the ruthlessness of existence for what it was, warts and all. That was the way millions of Souls suffered their afterlives in a sad mockery of Heaven, one much more closer to Purgatory in nature and function. Or, perhaps, the Limbo of Hell itself, as to persevere through the strife and woes of others with no respite was a form of the cruelest punishment imaginable on its own.

But even here, so far away from the festering heart of law and tyranny, ideals and corruption, order strove to maintain a modicum of presence. To keep the veil of false reality upon the hideous countenance of the world.

"This is boring as Hell, Koji-kun."

"Yeah."

"They pay us to wade through the dirt and stench of those slums... but not enough! I'd rather hunt some than babysit a bunch of beggars and bandits."

"Yeah."

Two Shinigami, Seated Officers of the Third Division, one outspoken and the other locked in stupor, travelled through the alleys of a decrepit village. They were surrounded by Souls, children, adult and elderly, of both sexes and various ethnicities. All of them poor, wearing tattered rags instead of clothing, and equally apathetic to everyone and everything around them. Even those two troopers casually walking through their miserable realm that blatantly insulted them with almost every utterance that escaped their throats. Or at least, one of them.

"I mean, since the time of those super-oh-so-mysterious disappearings of Souls there's like, nothing interesting happening here. The entire district could stop existing and nobody would notice. Heck, those guys over there wouldn't notice. It's that bad, Koji-kun."

"It's only a couple hours left, Ryota-kun", said the more languid of the two, looking somewhere in the distance. "We'll get back to the Barracks, get our pay, eat something and forget about this."

"Yeah, sure", his talkative companion chortled. "I'll never forget this stench, Koji-kun. It's like, invading my body or something. My soul stinks because..."

"Go to Hell with all those questions, you freak! Maybe you'll find your answers over there!", the Shinigami suddenly heard a raised voice from the distance.

There was suddenly a ruckus further along the alley. Several people gathered in the middle, standing around a solitary figure. Others observed from a distance, a shadow of curiosity in their glazed eyes. Something was happening and from the sound of it, something the two Shinigami were expected to investigate.

"Seems they can't decide how to share all this dirt between them", remarked Ryota with obvious sarcasm. "Come on, let's play heroes for a while."

"Yeah."

Soon they stood beside the group, a few nondescript adults and a single man in the centre. A man who was tall, but not unusually so, broad-shouldered, but not hulking. A man in a simple, worn clothing, with a dark grey cloak and a hood obscuring most of his features at the time. But, from beneath, Ryota could see what appeared to be a kimino. Or rather, a shihakushō...

"Hey there, what's the problem?!", he exclaimed, assuming a stance proper for a man of justice.

His sidekick of sorts stood next to him, observing the group with a degree of attention that contrasted his previous lack of care.

"This man!", one of the Souls pointed at the cloaked figure. "He's insane! Babblin' about some chaos and other bollocks, askin' lotsa weird questions, only to suddenly ask 'bout some bloody dōjō or somethin'!"

Ryota and Koji looked at the mysterious man with narrowed eyes. They could sense a small amount of spiritual power in him. He appeared rather disconcerting, but sheer looks meant little in the realm of spirits, where it was spiritual power that decided upon who was truly frightening or not. He had only a fraction of any of the Seated Officer's power and no weapon on him in sight. Probably a random country bumpkin who could not quite endure the life in a high-numbered Rukongai district.

"Go away, we're gonna deal with this", announced Ryota.

"Yeah, deal with him! We've already got 'nuff problems to worry 'bout!"

The other Souls dispersed but did not really leave. Instead, they joined the gradually growing crowd assembling at the scene. Two Shinigami facing a mysterious wayfarer. Something interesting was about to happen, they knew it. A moment of entertainment, however dark, to make their afterlives a tiny bit easier to suffer.

"So, what's the matter, tough guy? What do you want to find out so much?", asked Ryota.

The cloaked figure turned to him in an oddly smooth motion. More like a swivel than natural body movement. The Shinigami winced.

"I ask of the truth, but hear only lies", replied the man in a quiet, but strong voice.

"Well, no shit! How about you tell me your name and what exactly are you doing in here?", insisted Ryota.

He could not see his interlocutor's face. That was annoying. He heard the whispers of onlookers. That was annoying. He smelled the stench of this place. That was also, in fact, annoying. But this was an opportunity to do something and leave only to never return here. At least until Captain Akui would find another menial task for them to teach his indolent subordinates a lesson.

"I am a shadow of all the good and evil that befalls this miserable world", the man spoke. "They call me Tōsō for what I represent."

"Oh, goody!", snarled Ryota. "You know what, I'm a goddamn ghost with a sword that can kill monsters straight from your worst nightmares! Oh, yeah, and that's Koji."

"Yeah", replied Koji. "So, what are you looking for, Tōsō-san?"

There was a short pause. Not even a single gust of wind. Probably for the better, all things considered.

"I have been looking for Senjukuha and its founder, the Legendary Hakuda Grandmaster, Seireitou Kawahiru", was the response that followed shortly. "Can you show me the way?"

"Yeah, sure, it's like, right over there", Ryota waved his hand in the proper direction. "A few districts away from here. But you ain't going there, though. You're coming with us, Tōsō-san."

"And why would that be?"

The voice was still calm and somewhat monotone, but this time around there was a hint of something to it that made Ryota shudder. That was annoying. That man was annoying. Stupid missions were annoying, too. Even Koji appeared apprehensive for some reason. He usually did not bother to be afraid.

"Because you look like, suspicious as Hell", said Ryota, struggling to maintain the image of an illustrious Shinigami, the saviour of innocent Souls. "And why would you want to find Seireitou Kawahiru-sama? That's some shonky business right there."

"And none of your concern", Ryota could swear that he saw the man shrug, despite the cloak.

"Oh no, no, it is my concern", the Shinigami said whilst drawing his Zanpakutō. "You're coming with us, whether you want or not."

Koji brandished his sword as well, ready to assist his friend. He was still looking unsure, however.

"You are but pawns of a power you do not quite understand", the mysterious wayfarer said. "Stand in the path of the king, and you will perish."

"Oh, really!?", Ryota shouted at him. "Maybe if we'll cut you down to size you'll stop spouting bullshit!"

He was frustrated. And there was something wrong about that man. Something very wrong. He did not really understand that, but the sense of danger had been seeping into his mind ever since he laid his eyes upon him. He had to act, flee or fight. He and his companion chose to fight, and so they chose to die.

The two Shinigami slashed at the cloaked man, their blades reduced to blurs as they moved forward with high speed. But ere they could even approach him they bent and twisted like metal ribbons, only to suddenly shatter into pieces. They widened their eyes in deep shock and the man stood still, nary a motion on his part.

"Wha-?", Ryota uttered a part of a question forever unfinished, forever without an answer.

There was a loud, sickening sound. An organic sound, and nauseating crack. Soon the onlookers found themselves splattered with blood. They gazed in awe as the two Shinigami fell limply to the ground, their swords broken and their bodies numb. Literal holes had been punched through their chests, causing bursts of blood to paint the surroundings with crimson red. They died in an instant. And the mysterious wayfarer stood there still, not a single stain on his grey cloak.

Then he left, without a word. The crowd converged upon the bodies. Confused. Horrified. They could not comprehend what had just happened before their very eyes. But they were unworthy. If there was a man, anyone who could comprehend, it was the Grandmaster of Hakuda - Seireitou Kawahiru.