Back to the Beginning

Prologue
Crows circled around a large area of the Rukongai, where only just four months prior, the war with Akujin had raged. Soul Society had still not recovered. Bodies of Shinigami, Quincy, and Arrancar alike littered the field — the crows casually picking at their rotting flesh. In the midst of this carnage, a young boy, a mess of brown hair sitting awkwardly upon his head, shuffled his way through the bodies, sword casually swung over his shoulder; dried tears staining his face. Finding a small rock, jutting out from the field of death, the young boy takes a seat, hastily tearing at a pocket in the bloodied shihakushō he wore and retrieving a half-eaten piece of bread and viciously shoving it into his mouth.

As he did, however, something caught his eye. Movement. He was not alone in this field of littered corpses. A man with short, raven-black hair, dressed in the standard attire of a Shinigami, was approaching. The boy watched the man sharply as he approached, and was mildly surprised when he reached out and ruffled the boy's dirt-ridden hair affectionately. The boy narrowed his eyes, and the man clearly read his mistrust.

"I arrived here after hearing about a corpse-eating demon..." the man said, echoing the words his sensei had once said to a very good friend of his. "Would that be you?"

Sensing danger, the boy leaped back, striking the man's hand away, and drawing his sword, which was clearly worn and bloodied from constant battle. The boy casually licked away the crumbs still on his mouth, eyeing the man keenly; much as the man had accused him of being, a demon. And yet, curiously, the man only offered a smile in return.

"A rather cute demon at that. Did you steal that from a corpse as well? A lonely boy, stealing from the dead to protect himself, is it? You impress me." the man continued, reaching down for his own sword, clearly a Zanpakutō.

The boy's eyes narrowed menacingly and he slowly took up a fighting stance, aiming the tip of his blade at the older man's throat. If he moved, he would strike. And yet, the man made no gesture to harm him. Instead, rather surprisingly, the man removed the entire Zanpakutō, sheathe and all, from his obi, cradling it in both of his hands as one would an infant. The boy continued to watching, curiosity keeping him from attacking as he otherwise would have.

"However," the man continued. "You will no longer need that sword. A sword that is bore only in self-defense, and imbued with fear, should be cast aside."

In a quick gesture, the man tossed his sword high in the air, giving the boy only a split-second to react. Catching the sword with his free hand, the boy looked at the man, a glint of bewilderment in his eyes as he wondered what the Shinigami could possibly be trying to accomplish by handing over his own weapon to someone bearing a weapon at him.

"There, I have given you my sword. If you wish how to properly use it, come with me." the Shinigami man finished.

Looking down at the sword and then the man, the boy cautiously considered the man's words. He hungered to learn how to use the weapon. To learn to use it to stop carnage the likes of which had left him an orphan. To use it to stop the wars like the one that prevented him from protecting his now dead siblings. Weariness and sorrow finally overtaking him, the boy, with tears swelling in his eyes, stepped forward towards the Shinigami.

"I... I am very tired, mister." he managed weakly.

Smiling, the Shinigami reached down, retrieving his sword from the boy and strapping it back to his obi. And then, with his next movement, he knelt down and motioned for the boy to climb on his back. After a moment's hesitation, the boy did so, reaching for the man and climbing onto his back in a piggyback fashion. And with that, the man, boy in toe, headed off into the sunset; the boy watching the man with a look of bewilderment the entire way...

Setting off
Two months earlier...