Reach Out to a Broken Sun

Another series of explosions took place. Again and again, the same thing kept repeating itself. It was an endless cycle of boring, repetitive conflict. People died again and again, but to no avail. Everything was at that same standpoint. The barracks full of Shinigami who wished to defend the place they knew as home, once colored serenely in bright white walls and auburn roofs, soon were marred with a charcoal black. And on top of all that, I stood. At the top of my own barracks was a burned flag; a white flag, to be precise, ornate with a red sun, with paint smeared across it. This was my purpose, it was to rally about the death of all things for a new beginning.

And as I looked upon the destruction I was causing, I noticed those few people whom I once, or perhaps still did, held genuine emotion for. ,, . All of these people, whose kind faces I woke up to every morning...were smeared in the blood of my design. I had created this chaos, and I resolved to end it herein. I clutched my zanpakutō, and I asked it one simple question, "Bima-kun, will you stay by my side...forever...regardless of what I do from now on?"

Its voice was silent initially. I took this as a bad sign, and as I was about to move on to do my final deed, it called out, "Of course, Tenma-san. Your wishes are the only reason for my existence. It is my duty to help you complete them." His childish voice echoed across my body, rejuvenating it with a newfound sense of obligation, of duty. I was once again ready, ready to face the Sun.

With nothing but a step, my figure disappeared from the roof of the Barracks. My hair, as I could feel it, was billowing with the wind, its silver strands leaving behind but a flicker of my former lifetime. And without any delay, I had reached, to what might have been my final stand. The barracks, in front of the reigning Sword Demon, the founder of Genryū, my own Master,.

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