Darkness, once again. It was all there ever was, aside from the voices. But they were hardly company with the atrocities they'd whisper to him hour upon hour. Sometimes he'd try to respond to their taunts and jibes, hoping to incite them to leave him alone. But the more he reacted, the louder the voices rose. Until eventually he remembered that it was just him, alone and in the dark. And that the voices were his own, the many that had filled his head over the years since he was first imprisoned.
It was then that the weight of his shackles became apparent to him. They grew heavier by the day, though the remnants of his logical mind suspected that it was merely him growing weaker. Trying to remove them proved only futile, since they were more then just metal. These were wrought from Reiryoku; A common Bakudo spell, yet one he found impossible to break being that he knew nothing about Kido.
A loud noise broke him from his thoughts. The all too familiar screeching of metal against metal as the thick bolt slid across and unlocked the door that sealed the room. Piercing light flooded into the underground prison, forcing him to slam his eyes closed. Although, the light wasn't the only reason he shut them. The creak of old wooden steps allowed him to follow the position of the one who had just entered, until they reached the bottom where the dried ground would muffle their footsteps and he would lose track of them. Which of them would it be this time? And what would they want from him? He didn't need to ask the question out loud to know the answer.
Eventually he could sense that whoever it was now stood only a meter in front of him. The whisper of their breathing was as loud to him as any explosion would have been. But he still jumped when the voices spoke out to him. 'Slaughter them. Tear them to pieces. They all deserve it, each of them. We can help you. Let us protect you.' The voices started to grow in number until eventually they became unintelligible. Until the weight of them suddenly began to overwhelm him. He started to pull against the chains that bound him, aching to be free of them. The voices closed in on him, repeating their words over and over. Jinzo could feel his consciousness slipping away from him.
Outside of Squad Eleven's Barracks
Jinzo opened his eyes slowly and let out the breath he'd been unknowingly holding. He could still hear the faint whispers dying out as his mind returned to the present. With a slow sigh he sat up, dangling his legs on either side of the tree branch he'd been lying on. It was late morning, or so he thought. Jinzo didn't really pay much attention to the time. Day or night he struggled to sleep soundly at the best of times. He could hear the hustle and bustle of his Squad Barracks, today was the day of the Hakuda Tournament. No doubt his Squad mates were busy practicing, a thought confirmed by the odd grunt of pain or cheer from the spectators as pairs of the lower ranks sparred against each other in unarmed combat. He dropped down from the tree branch with a practiced grace and began walking towards the barracks.
It didn't take him long to cross the courtyard and to arrive at the entrance. More sounds of fighting could be herd now. Jinzo continued into the barracks to watch. He reached the open doorway and lent against it, watching intently as six pairs of Shinigami sparred with each other upon white dojo mats. The thuds of their calculated footsteps reverberated through the floor, accompanied by labored breathing and the sounds of unarmed strikes hitting against sweat-soaked skin. One bout in particular drew his attention. It was that of the 8th Seat Miyozuri Hayamate and an Unseated kid, fresh out of the Academy. Miyozuri had taken an early lead, commanding the center of the mat using his sheer size advantage over the boy. Whoever had chosen this match-up had clearly meant for it to be stacked against the new guy. The kid, however, remained stalwart in his attempts at taking the middle for himself. His skinnier build allowed him to move a lot faster than the 8th seat, easily dodging the wild swipes of his bear-like hands. The crowd surrounding the two were jeering the kid, taunting and hollering with every attempted hit. But the boy paid them no heed, he was focused intently, eyeing his prey, preparing for the kill.
Then suddenly, in a flash of movement, the boy launched himself under another of Miyozuri's swipes, slamming his open palm into the rib cage of the 8th seat then darting away and out of harm's reach. Miyozuri howled in pain, a broken rib usually did that to you. The crowd quietened a little. Until then, the boy had done nothing but dodge and weave out of the way. None of them expected his strikes to be so fast. Jinzo could see it though, the lad had it in him already. The killing instinct that would propel him through the ranks. It would be the reason why Miyozuri would lose this bout, his earlier cockiness and bravado had only hastened his defeat. By now the 8th seat had taken a more defensive stance. He was slightly red-faced and breathing much heavier than before, more than just one broken rib then. He'd even taken a step back, giving the boy just enough space for his follow-up attack.
The Unseated fighter launched into a run, his eyes focused and hard. Miyozuri reacted quickly to it, turning his injured side away from the boy but leaving his left leg forward and his upper-thigh at a rough forty-five degree angle. The kid gave only the faintest of smiles before leaping toward the large 8th seat. His foot landed on Miyozuri's thigh but pushed hard as he sprung himself into the air, just beating his opponent's abnormally large height. As he reached the apex of his jump, the boy had primed his right elbow. Then, in a single movement, brought it slashing down upon the 8th seat's face. Blood spewed from Miyozuri's nose instantly, erupting in a spray that covered his upper body in seconds. But he was unable to react to it as he was already falling backward, out cold.
A loud cheer went up as Miyozuri crashed onto the mat. The young Shinigami's face broke into a wide smile. Jinzo had seen enough. "Hmph, pathetic." He uttered, pushing himself away from the door frame, a picture of obvious distaste on his face at Miyozuri's shameful display. The barracks went silent and turned to face him. The Shinigami of the 11th Squad bowed toward him and spoke in unison, "Lieutenant Iaori!" Jinzo strode further into the large dojo area, towards the mat where the 8th seat had recently been bested. His imposing shadow covered the young Unseated Shinigami who was still shaking from the adrenalin. Jinzo allowed himself a smirk. Or was it fear? "You fought well." He began. "Your instincts were strong and your execution was flawless. Be proud of your victory today."
"Thank you, Sir." The boy muttered, sweat dripping from his face. Jinzo glanced over at the mess that was the 8th Seat. Then, to the crowd that had surrounded the earlier bout, he ordered, "Get that thing cleaned up. The Captain will be here any minute." He began to walk towards the far end of the dojo area before adding, "The same goes for the rest of you, The Hakuda Tournament will start in less than an hour. Kenpachi-sama will want you to be ready. Now get to it." The large room burst suddenly into activity as the lower ranks scrambled to get the place cleaned. Jinzo, however, continued to walk calmly to his office. As he did so, he thought about the tournament and how he'd, for the 10th year in a row, declined the invite to fight. Strange as it was, given that he was the Lieutenant of the 11th Squad, Jinzo could care less about the neanderthal style of fighting that was Hakuda. He'd always vowed to himself and to the few brave enough to ask why he refused to take part, that if there ever came a day when a bare hand could stop his Zanpakuto, only then would he take up Hakuda.
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