Draw the sword.
Slice the mask.
Move on to the next Hollow.
And the shinigami continued to fight, the pressure of the corrupt reiatsu fading as he killed.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Fifth seat Ayasegawa applauded him, smiling prettily. "You fight very elegantly, you know!" he exclaimed, smiling and looking far too pretty.
Not that the shinigami noticed. He had gotten used to effeminate males back when he was still alive.
Looking up at the sky, the shinigami whispered sadly.
"Why aren't you here? I wanted to go where you did…"
There was a tightness in his chest, and he couldn't breath.
Looking around, the shinigami realized…
…This was the place he had died.
Snow was falling, swirling, spiraling past him.
And past a small, dark-haired figure.
"I am always by your side."
And then he was awake.
The shinigami was drinking with Third Seat Madarame. When you wanted to get blind, stinking drunk, no one was better company than Ikkaku Madarame.
May be it was the dream, maybe it was the sake, but the shinigami was pouring out the entire story of his death to the baldie.
Ikkaku looked contemplative. Also drunk, but that was a given. Finally, he spoke. "Huh. That's a pretty damn cool way to die."
"Yeah."
Nothing more was said.
Three nights running, the dream.
Waking up each morning to a destroyed room.
Realization.
His zanpakutou was awakening.
The shinigami walked into the sealed-off room.
It had been created as a meditation site, a place for shinigami to unleash dangerous powers safely.
Zaraki-taichou prided himself on never using it.
The shinigami sat down in the center of the room, closed his eyes, and focused.
Snow falling, swirling, spiraling. All over the bridge where he had died.
Dark hair. Pale white mask.
"Why do you struggle so? You already know my name."
The shinigami struggled for breath, a great weight squeezing his chest.
The mask tilted, and the slight figure walked up to him, free of the ever present snow. One delicate hand reached up and placed itself against his chest.
"This great weight on you…what is it that constricts your heart and stops your tongue?"
The shinigami's voice came out in a harsh rasp.
"I do not deserve to go to the same place as you."
The masked face tilted, and the shinigami knew the face behind it was smiling. "But that does not matter, though your grief weighs on you like cement. I have told you before."
The mask was removed, revealing a gentle face, lips curved with amusement.
"Be at ease, Zabuza-san. I am your weapon. And I am always by your side."
Zabuza's eyes snapped open, and he regarded the zanpakutou before him.
"Stupid kid…" he muttered. "You didn't have to do that."
Taking a deep breath, he stood up.
"Stand beside me, HAKU!"
end