Bleach: From You to Me

"Speech"

'Whisper'

>Thought<

[Information/Lingo]

*Action/Sound*

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Year: ~ 900 A.D.

A street is lined with rickety old shacks; the construction looked to be decades old. These dilapidated homes threaten to collapse at the hint of a storm. Their foundations are weak, and the walls are cracked whilst they splinter at the seams. Children run in and out of the shifting shelters despite the danger. Adults yell out in anger from within the hollow walls, scolding the children to be careful.

Kids leap onto the street meeting in a huddle under the blazing sun. Working adults pass by the circle of kids with worn straw hats, off to gather whatever they can for their families. A group of unkempt bums sits on the side of the street. Their clothes are tattered and faded. Frazzled hair sticks to their nervous faces. They're gambling their small savings in a game of Chou-han Bakuchi. The sounds of a rattling cup add to the heavy air before the eventual cursing and screams of victory at the reveal of the die.

The children watched with interest as sweat streamed down their foreheads, shining under the sun. The heat beats down on the group as many of the kids wear stained and torn clothes as well. Most have no footwear to shield the soles of their feet from the scorching hot dirt road. The hot clay, rocks, and splinters have toughened their feet for travel. Smiles bloom on their faces as they turn to leave, heading toward their destination. Their hopeful faces betray the reality of their situation.

They ran down the rough street. Heat bounced off the dirt creating a mirage in the distance. Senior citizens living in the slums gazed at the running children in fleeting happiness. They stayed quiet, basking in nostalgia. They remembered the promises never kept and the sealed desires of their youth rising to the surface once more. Married old folk turned to look at their spouses in gratitude. Having a family in this place was their only escape from reality.

This afterlife was very different from their original ideas. Here in Soul Society, nearly everyone arrived without their loved ones. Scattered all over Rukongai, the Wandering Soul City, people entered the afterlife in droves, separated from any semblance of peace and security. This was especially true in the outer districts of Rukongai, where strength solved all.

Nestled in the center of Soul Society, surrounded by the districts of Rukongai, was the noble, revered Seireitei or Court of Pure Souls. New arrivals would often stare in awe at the magnificent gates and walls guarding the core of Soul Society. Some brave enough to approach the gates would be warded off by hulking, massive gatekeepers. They would learn only souls willing to enter the ranks of the Shinigami could enter the grand court of Seireitei. Even then, souls would have to pass the harsh requirements of a school, such as the Genji School, now recently known as the Shinigami Academy.

The acceptance rate was small, too small. Becoming a Shinigami was a pipe dream for the masses of Rukongai. With rejection, souls faced the disparity in living conditions in bitterness and overwhelming helplessness. In the outer districts of North, South, East, and West Rukongai, despair and cynicism were rampant. The slums held no love for the revered Seireitei and Shinigami.

Adopted family members would never look back toward the slums if they were inducted as Shinigami. Why would they? Who wished to return to the splintered wood floors, cold nights, and violent districts? Life was more tolerable in the inner districts ranging from 1 to 39. The veil of misery and violence was toned down to a reasonable degree. As one traveled further from the initial inner districts, blood became an increasingly common sight. Gang fights were especially frequent scenes in the buffer zone between North Rukongai's districts 60 and 59.

The 'upper class' gangs of North Rukongai that lived in District 59 would fiercely fight against the 'lower class dogs' that wished to leave District 60. Whether it was for fun or trying to find better living conditions, those of District 59 fended off anyone from the lower district slums. There was no solidarity in North Rukongai, not when it came to resources and territory. Everything was worth fighting for, just a hint of flavor to their bland afterlives could help them carry on, just one more day.

This buffer zone between Districts 60 and 59 became the battleground for those with aspirations. Colliding ambitions yielded a pool of blood beneath the slums' surface, this buffer zone, known as Akachou, was a haven for the lawless. Yet, oddly enough, in the tense bloodied street of Akachou, a lone building in the middle of the street stood unperturbed. A well-kept, decorated tea house that boasted bright, colorful banners and pristine splendor. Separating the two districts, the building saw high foot traffic from seemingly all citizens, regardless of district residence.

With outside open seating and a spacious relaxed interior, the tea house hosted a peaceful and orderly aura. Customers, normal citizens, and gang members alike, visit the tea house in a respectful fashion. Tattooed men sporting snarling scowls loosen their faces and release the tension in their bodies as they enter the haven. Scantily dressed working girls straighten up their outfits. Their behavior would seem to have made a drastic transition, from murderers to gentlemen, and from harlots to young ladies.

This bustling colorful teahouse, 'Tengoku', centered in Akachou is one of the only affordable luxuries in the outer districts of Northern Rukongai. Away from the sea of despair, this oasis maintained strict rules that all patrons would have to adhere to.

Inside the teahouse, a tense meeting between gangs occupied the far corner. Three gang leaders are seated at the round table, shirts off, attempting to flex their physique in a show of intimidation as they discuss business. Their respective aides began to sweat as they witnessed their leaders' irritation rise. Some begin to look toward the empty counter of the teahouse where a number of people were watching the meeting unfold in a disruptive state. The aids started to placate their leaders hoping to avoid the foregone conclusion.

One of the three gang leaders, a bald man with a face tattoo smashed the round table in disagreement while standing. His face red in fury. "BASTARDS! YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT?!" *SMASH* *Clatter*

The dishware jumped and fell on the table. The contents of their drinks and food dripped from the lavish table onto the immaculate hardwood floor. The bald gang leader continued to rant as his aid tried to salvage the situation.

The young aide began to restrain his leader as best he could, grabbing the raging bull by the horns. "Kumichou [Head]! Calm down, please!"

The bald man wasn't having any of it. He thrashed about, looking at the two opposing gang leaders, smirks marking their lips. The bald man burst out in an ear-shattering roar. "HOW DARE YOU! BOTH OF YOU! I'LL GUT YOU AND YOUR KIDS!"

The aide was now pale faced, his eyes widened in shock. All the other customers in the tea house were fully focused on what was happening in the far corner. They whispered in anticipation of what was about to come. Some of the regular customers' heads turned to the empty counter, specifically to the hallway behind the counter concealed by a green curtain.

The green curtains shifted revealing a man. *Fwo* Standing in the now exposed doorway, a youthful man took up most of the space. He stood around 183 cm with an athletic silhouette speaking volumes of his daily training. While a majority of the male customers wore their long hair in a traditional Chonmage [Japanese Topknot] or completely loose, the young man had his unruly rose-red hair slicked back and secured. A thin white hachimaki [headband] kept the few loose strands of hair away from his rounded eyebrows and out of his twitching, dull black eyes. His eyelids closed, watching the buffoons in the far corner make a mess of things.

His calloused fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. The young man's resting frown began to twitch as he heard the bald man yell once again.

"I'LL KILL YOU TWO RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW!"

By this point, all the other customers were looking at the irritated young man behind the counter. He shifted his body to walk around the counter. His blue and white vertical striped Happi [festival coat] flapped exposing his bare tanned torso. The female customers blushed at the sight of his tempered physique; they stared as he walked around the counter in a poised manner. His loose white pants carried his legs forward as his Waraji [Straw Sandals] quietly kept his feet creeping to the disruptive scene. *step* *creak*

By this point, the two smirking gang leaders paled at the sight of the red-haired young man. They faced their heads down at the table as if they were children who were being scolded. The bald man gave a feral grin as he witnessed the two's submissive look.

"HA! That's right I'm the big boss of Akachou! Get it straight!" His aide slowly backed off, releasing him from the hold. The aide had given up, lowering his head in defeat. The bald man firmly believed that this was his victory, nothing would hold him back from expanding now. He felt a tap on his shoulder, turning to face the red-haired master of the tea house, his eyes widened. The gangster started to speak quickly in hopes of remedying the situation.

"Aha! Err~ Kenji-sama! I have to apologize for my volume. I was trying to straighten out my business with these two men here."

Kenji crossed his arms creasing his blue and white happi. He lifted an eyebrow in question, waiting to hear more. The silence was deafening.

The bald man felt cold sweat trail down his spine as he stared up at Kenji. Bringing his hands together, he rubbed his palms together quickly like a shady businessman. With his livelihood and reputation on the line, he spoke with fervor and a trace of obedience.

"Kenji-sama! I just got some fresh, untouched girls, young and new! We also have some Soul Salts and Poppy Dust if you're looking for a good time too! Hehe~."

All the customers facepalmed and shook their heads at the gang leader's vulgar offer. Even the two silent gang leaders gave a prayer for the bald man's safe passage to the after-afterlife. The defeated aide deadpanned and sat down in a chair, drinking his tea in deep reflection.

"Huh?"

Kenji's lips turned down into a disgusted scowl. His eyes narrowed into a dangerous piercing gaze. The bald man began to turn white like a ghost. Kenji lifted his right hand, placing it on the top of the bald man's head. His fingers clamped onto the shiny cue ball before winding up into an athletic throwing posture.

Kenji gave a peculiar shout. His voice erupted out of the teahouse, spreading all throughout Akachou. Everyone stopped on the street and turned to look at the roof of the tea house in expectation.

"BATTER UP!" *Whoosh* *Crash* *fwee-ooo*

The bald gang leader was ejected through the roof far into Soul Society's stratosphere. Kenji dusted off his hands. *clap* *clap*

"Damn hooligan…"