Kazuma walked in the orchard of cherry blossoms he had managed to create of reiatsu, it was and amazing site. It wasn't too far from the seretei. But not too far from hueco mundo either.
The day he left, the day of a massacre against all the soul reapers, their screams continued to rattle through his ears. Kazuma closed his eyes and reopened them. some would call this a blink. But blinks don't last for an hour.
Kazuma could picture them all laying on the ground, and fading into reiatsu. And the entire kido corps forcing him out. He took on thousands of shiigami that day.
Kazuma was now known as the king of rouges. And people laughed at the title. except for those who fought him... they took it how it needed to be handled. seriously.
He took off his captains jacket, and aimed a finger at the jacket, "Byakurai". And the jacket went up in flames. The boy had evolved and looked like a thirteen year old now. He had gone from skinny to lean to muscular. And he wanted to bare just the weight of guilt on his shoulders. So his removed the top of his kimono and let it droop down and around his waist like a man skirt looking thing. though it looked totally elite.
On the childs body were scars, on stretched from right shoulder to left waist, another from left shoulder to left waist. The two scars intersected to form and 'X'. And it was a mark of a rouge. It seared through his mind like hot lava, nothing was more painful than wanting to kill those you love.
Not a hint of spirit pressure. Unusual.
The day he left, the day of a massacre against all the soul reapers, their screams continued to rattle through his ears. Kazuma closed his eyes and reopened them. some would call this a blink. But blinks don't last for an hour.
Kazuma could picture them all laying on the ground, and fading into reiatsu. And the entire kido corps forcing him out. He took on thousands of shiigami that day.
Kazuma was now known as the king of rouges. And people laughed at the title. except for those who fought him... they took it how it needed to be handled. seriously.
He took off his captains jacket, and aimed a finger at the jacket, "Byakurai". And the jacket went up in flames. The boy had evolved and looked like a thirteen year old now. He had gone from skinny to lean to muscular. And he wanted to bare just the weight of guilt on his shoulders. So his removed the top of his kimono and let it droop down and around his waist like a man skirt looking thing. though it looked totally elite.
On the childs body were scars, on stretched from right shoulder to left waist, another from left shoulder to left waist. The two scars intersected to form and 'X'. And it was a mark of a rouge. It seared through his mind like hot lava, nothing was more painful than wanting to kill those you love.
Not a hint of spirit pressure. Unusual.