Everything was red.
Red like blood.
The blood that flowed down the streets.
A blade slowly lifted up to the snaking tongue of the Shinigami, sliding down the muscle with a small and pained giggle coming from behind the red eyes, staring into nothing. A single step was taken forwards, and the man disappeared with a howling laugh. Shunpo. Such a useful way for the Shinigami to get around. A single step touched the ground, and he disappeared again, moving rapidly through red-soaked streets. That red... it was his fault. All his fault, and he relished it. It was everything to him, this blood. His face was covered in blood, his body, stained with the red of the innocents. That was his role, that was his place in life. He was the one, "He-Who-Is-Covered-In-Blood". He raised the blade again, running the sharp end along the base of his tongue. Screaming resounded from behind him, his ears picking up the sound causing his mouth to turn into a twisted visage of pure pleasure.
Oh, how he loves to hear them scream...
His hand gripped the tanto tightly, and his eyes widened wildly, the blood-soaked orbs of red staring at the carnage that hung before him. The scent, the oh-so-sweet scent of blood, wafted through the air around his nose. He chuckled softly, and ran forwards, bringing the blade out to his side with a wild laugh, the face twisting and contorting into a visage of glee. Laughter escaped from his lips as he cut and cut, blood spraying from severed arteries, screams ringing out every time his blade plunged deeply into their bodies. The blade was drawn along flesh, slicing through bone, and as each cut spread out, more red came from the dying bodies.
Red like the hair that dropped down his back.
Red like the eyes that stared from the crazed face.
Red like the blood that coated his clothing.
A man was running from him. Foolish human, and his foolish ideals. He would not survive the night. He-Who-Is-Covered-In-Blood let a raucous cry from his mouth, and placing a single foot on the ground to steady himself, brought his leg around in a roundhouse kick. The shin planted itself into the human's side, and pushed him straight for the nearest building. He flew, his voice ringing out; lost in the winds of his flight. A dust cloud erupted from the targeted building, and he turned towards the building to study it with a childish giggle. There was... pleasure all over that building. A red stain. A red stain. A red stain, human blood. Blood, blood, glorious blood. Blood, mixed with dust. Dust, rocks, concrete. There was no body. No body was there. There was just red.
He liked the color red.
His head leaned back, eyes staring into the air, laughter erupting from his lips. His hands went out by his sides, fingers twisted into fists, mouth open as if there was no greater void of evil. He stepped forwards, and watched them continue to run. Humans... Don't they know when it's impossible? Leaning forwards, his mouth changed from a laugh to a grin. That grin... that wild, unobstructed grin. His stance was prepared to lunge, and the wild beast that looked, gazed from behind those red orbs, was ready to strike once again. He disappeared with another flash step, landing in front of the humans. They couldn't see him. They were just running towards their death. Raising his hand slowly into the air, he spoke quietly but surely, trying to hide the giggle from behind his serious visage."Hado no Yon."
His finger lit up, and he finally let the hidden giggle free, teeth clenched to stop him from laughing. Oh, the anticipation. The anticipation. The anticipation of this energy going through flesh, and blood, and bone and muscle and... "BYAKURAI!"
The energy sparked from the pointed finger, flying through the air towards the humans, piercing the chest of the first one. He flew backwards, hitting his friends and leaving them with shocked looks on their faces. Oh, it was... amazing. He took a few steps forwards, staring with twitching, barbaric and blood-soaked orbs. A single step raised a small amount of dust around his foot, the sound of it's collision ringing louder than the deathly shrieks of the humans. Wh...what?
He hated the color. That was the color of blood.
Like the eyes on his face, the hairs that dropped down his back.
This red was not him. He was not He-Who-Is-Covered-In-Blood.
He stopped. The dust fell around the lone foot, blowing around with the wind. The gust raised his hair up, sending it sprawling out behind him as if it was a river of blood, red as the Crimson Moon of the Brunestud. The eyes that had, previously, held the contempt of a thousand armies, were now dying of color. The face that was stained red by the blood of many was now losing blood of it's own, paling completely. There was something wrong. He tried to raise the blade into the air, preparing to plant it into the humans and end their short and foolish existences. With this, he could. Humans were mere trifles, anyway. Playthings to be discarded after one was completely finished with them. Hellish, foolish, selfish. They were the embodiment of the Devil himself. He raised the blade higher, and then immediately dropped it down, sending it in a glinting arc towards the bodies on the ground. They deserved nothing more than to die!
Wh-what? He couldn't move! He tried, and tried again. But... A shout left his lips, a shout of resistance. He had to kill them. They needed to die. Death was the only salvation for humanity. Death. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die Die Die Die Die Die Die DieDieDieDieDieDie! His arm tried to move again, ready to plunge it into the throats of the shaking beings. But... there was something stopping it. The hand shook in the air, trying to move against it's own will, yet being stopped by it's own will at the same time. This was agony... pain was nothing to the creature and yet here was pain, coursing through the struggling right arm. He had to...
This is my body.
A calm voice from within. So, it was him. All along, it was the man that he had forgone. No. He had rejected him. He had taken control, like the horse and rider of the days of old. He was no longer the horse, he was the one riding. Ever since the Kaiesho killings, ever since that fateful day he had been waiting. He had needed a chance, and lasted through agonizing pain and solitude. Daigoro Ito was dead. This was the truth. The man covered in blood opened his mouth, and prepared to laugh, eyes frenzied and bloodshot. He stepped forwards and raised the blade higher, letting the first psychotic note erupt from his lips."KYAH--I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE ME!"
A push. It was a simple push, at first. One that most would shrug off. But there was nobody around. There was nobody there who could've pushed. A single beat resonated from his heart, and the man began to sweat. It was not hot, and yet he began to sweat. He gritted his teeth, and threw his head back, finally beginning to scream. It hurt. It hurt. Pain. Pain. Painpainpain. Stop the pain. Stop it stop it stop it! It felt like... RRRRGH.... It felt like his soul was being wrenched in two... The pushing was growing harder. There was nothing to it, the pushing was truly getting to him, and trying to throw him out. NO, THIS WAS HIS DOMAIN.
I see Red.
I am Red.
The blood-covered man could only scream in pain and rage as the soul-wrenching feeling continued. He dropped to his knees, planting his hands onto the ground, sword clattering to the ground and sliding into a small pool of human blood. Fearful eyes switched to the red pond on the ground. Bl...ood. Did he do that? Was that his blood? No, he was covered in blood, but that wasn't his blood. Why was that there. Red. He hated the color. Blood was a feared liquid, the elixir of death. He hated it. It was the color of his hair and eyes, those blood-drenched pieces of hell. But still the pain continued, and still his agony-tipped cries escaped into the world of Red. Red. That color again. Reaching a hand into the air, he brought it down with a thundering crack onto the concrete, feeling the bones in his hand jar and rattle, but not doing anything for this pain that he felt coursing throughout the entirety of his soul."Hrrrgh... I'll not let you take me."
His eyes were starting to turn golden, the irises being blanched before dying themselves on their own, Reiatsu travelling throughout all circuits within his form. He would not let the one he had killed come back to life. Even if it cost him his own body, Daigoro Ito must remain dead! His hand crawled along the tar, fingers branching out for the tanto, the one that was covered in drops of blood from the pool beneath it. Human blood. Everything human sickened him to the core. The ones before him were no exception... So he would kill them first, and take his own life afterwards. He would spare no expense... Daigoro Ito must remain dead forever. His fingers trekked along this road, trying to reach for the hilt... and stopped. They just stopped, the shaking beginning again as two entities tried to control the same object."Why won't you......stay dead?!"
His eyes started to return to normal again, the golden color disappearing. His voice was tinged with the feelings of the utmost torture of the world upon him. This pain... it was nothing... NOTHING... His hand was outstretched, and the fingers tried to close in on each other, trying their hardest to gather everything, something to stop the pain, but it didn't work, and with a final scream, they split. A bloody gash traveled down his back, and split open with a sickening crack. From the hold that opened up, stepped a man with a head of red hair and a nonchalant, distant gaze. The man stepped out of the shell that he once was, and looked over at it, holding a short tanto in his hand and sneering at the thing that was on the ground."You sicken me. You are not who I aspire to be. The embodiment of my very sin."
As quickly as it had opened, the wound closed, sealing itself shut as if there was nothing there to have opened it. Small laughs left the creature's throat, as it finally snaked twisted fingers around the hilt of the sword on the ground. He slowly and surely raised it into the air and stumbled to his feet, moving backwards slightly and chuckling, gleeful tones leaving his lips. He felt weaker now. That man behind him made him complete. But he couldn't help it if he didn't want to hand over control. He could live with being weaker if it meant that he could finally be free of his control. Even if there was a man who looked like him... But there wouldn't be. As the creature turned towards Daigoro, it's face changed, twisted into something inhuman. The red orbs slowly melded into blank shades of gold, staring widely at Daigoro himself as if they were plates of steel. The flesh that covered his face faded from it's color, leaving behind what could only be called a porcelain membrane, with black veins and arteries throbbing around the mask of skin and blood. His head cocked back slightly, and the hair on his head paled, the color that defined his former master dissipating into a pale red. His mouth contorted into an ugly grin and he dropped the head to gaze upon Daigoro, watching the other carefully."Kuh... So this is the culmination of my sin?"
He couldn't help but feel pure hatred for this beast. There was no humanity remaining within those eyes anymore, only the intent and wish to kill. Daigoro twitched slightly, lowering his vision to match He-Who-Is-Covered-In-Blood, staring into those empty and cold golden eyes, white-and-red Reiatsu crackling around his body and moving from place to place. The thing before him did not speak, and only disappeared. The man reacted in a second, turning to face the oncoming blade, aimed at his throat. He raised Kiba Ookami in a heartbeat, steel clashing against steel, sparks flickering out into the air between the pair. Another heartbeat, and a leg sprawled into his side, causing the redhead's eyes to widen in sudden realization as his body left the ground and flew towards the building, hitting the mass of concrete with a single loud crash."Hurts... why? I could... take that before..."
Pieces of shattered building fell about the bleeding Shinigami, and as he slowly made his way to stand, he realized that his arm was bent at a strange angle. Blurred vision tried to comprehend the left arm that was now useless, but he didn't seem to understand. His head hurt... His body hurt... everything was in pain. Slowly climbing off of the pieces of concrete, red blood splattered onto the ground. Red. More of that hateful color. The man grunted loudly as he fell onto a single knee, more blood splashing out around him. Grrgh. The pain was slowly growing unbearable. A single hand reached out, grabbing a bar on the building and pulling Daigoro to his feet, red eyes blankly staring towards the paler mass of hair. His vision blurred in and out, focus changing with every new burst of pain, but it was still there. That red. That hateful red. The man took a single step forwards and shouted out in pain, gritting his teeth and trying his hardest to continue on.
Immune to pain... Yet showing all scars...
His eyes closed with the next step, and yet he continued to stumble, amidst the sounds of He-Who-Is-Covered-In-Blood's wild and unhinged laughter. He could feel it completely now, the ties that bound them together. Although they were not the same, they were still one. That was why he felt this pain like he did, because he was incomplete. And if one is incomplete, they are broken. And broken objects require fixing. His head raised up to the other once more, bobbing around with each step, tears of pain splashing on the ground beneath his feet.
Withstood hell to create weapons... walking the path of blood..."Have you realized yet?"
That voice was alien to Daigoro. It sounded like his, and yet it was distorted. The usual dulcet and calm tones of Dai's voice were twisted into something more sinister. The breathing from that creature was tinged with glee, and the cruelty of his own mind was obvious from his visage and the tone of a mind far-gone. "You... are me. And I... am you. So fighting... is futile."
Dai stopped, recoiling slightly from this statement.
No. That word echoed in the back of his mind. It was not true. There was no way that it could be true. They were of the same body, but they weren't the same. He was not Daigoro, and Daigoro was not He. There was a difference in their looks, the way they acted, their voices... And their wishes. Daigoro wished for simple peace, and He wanted...
Creating a trail of my own now, one step at a time"THAT WILL NOT STOP ME FROM KILLING YOU, HOWEVER."
The familiar feeling of another flash step, and the redhead reacted at a speed that was slower than he remembered. Why were his react--ungh! The blades clashed together, Daigoro only just managing to block in time. A shockwave was sent through his body from the collision. The attack disappeared, and another came from another angle, Dai raising the blade to block once more, again only just making it. The assault continued on, Daigoro trying his hardest to block each attack. But it was slowly growing futile for this man. He was losing strength with every block, and he was no longer simply trying to defend. Cuts streaked across his chest, and one slicing along his face. Pained cries escaped into the atmosphere. This was not who he was. This was a fake. A fake. Fake. Fake. Fake. Fake! Just a fake! Fakes needed to be destroyed. This thing may be a part of him, but it was still incomplete. It was a part of Daigoro, but it was not him. He rejected it as a part of him, even if their faces and powers were the same. This thing was simply geared towards killing, and Daigoro couldn't help stop it. He needed to contain it. The next blade came in fast, and dug itself into his shoulder, Dai's mouth opening widely and sending a bone-chilling scream into the air. He pulled the sword in his hand back as the sound of bone grinding against steel reverberated into his ears.
I am now...
But it didn't last long, as the sword was pulled out. Dai pulled back slightly, and lunged for the thing, trying his hardest to fix what he could. He didn't know if this would work. If it didn't work, he would die. If it didn't work, then his life would be forfeit, but the thing before him would die as well. His blade flitted forwards and flew straight for it's stomach, as the blade of the other went for the abdomen as well. A sickening squelch
noise came from the pair, and a mixture of blood and digestive fluids flowed down the pair of blades. Dai let a kind smile cross his face. He was made of the same stuff as this thing, right? If that was true, then..."Heh... heh... heh... You F-fool."
The man had a small trail of blood running from the side of his lip, and his eyes were quavering, moving from left to right, flitting over the body of the other. Daigoro simply shook his head, and let go of the sword that he had pushed into His stomach. He reached out a single hand, as his left was hanging uselessly at his side. The fingers curled around His shoulder and pulled Him in closer, Daigoro closing his eyes and letting the zanpakuto in his own stomach begin to glow. Although he could not see it, a true look of fear crossed the face of He-Who-Is-Covered-In-Blood. This was not happening... there was no way that he could be disappearing... but the zanpakuto glowed, and then he did, and then... it just disappeared, leaving behind a chilling note of laughter, and a statement of warning to the redhead that he had just joined with once more...
It's not over, Ito.
The man fell forwards, landing on his knees and chuckling a little bit, blood coming up from within his throat and spattering out onto the ground in front of him, his red eyes dimmed from the pain and the smile on his face weak and tired, his body ready to fall into the sweet surrender of sleep or death. A soft chuckle escaped the gurgling of his throat, and he stared into the sky as it began to cloud over, dimming the sun's rays from view. The first few drops began to fall out of the sky, coloring the ground around him dark with the water's flow, washing the blood off of his body as a small smile crossed his face.
The rain. He'd always enjoyed the rain. Despite the image that it gave of depression to the world, the water that poured from the heavens felt cleansing to this Shinigami. It gave him no end of pleasure to feel the sin wash away with the waters that flowed down the street. Despite everything that had occurred, he still believed his path to be the right one. He had no regrets, only mistakes to be washed away by the rain. The water drenched his hair as it fell faster, sticking the long locks to his back and causing him to laugh softly, letting dulcet tones take flight and drown in the liquid cure for his sin.
"I know... Trust me... I know..."