Esharath ran as the ground beneath his feet changed. Mud, blood, and scattered reishi were mixed together, making every step unstable. He clenched his teeth to keep from slipping and falling. The screams behind him hadn't stopped yet, but as the distance grew, they became muffled and distant.
Eventually, he threw himself behind a half-collapsed shack.
His chest rose and fell rapidly. Each breath burned his lungs, and a metallic taste filled his throat. He dropped to his knees, his hand moving to his shoulder on instinct. He felt wetness.
Blood.
But he was alive.
That realization brought a delayed wave of fear crashing into his mind. He noticed his hands trembling. What he had witnessed moments ago was unlike anything he had ever seen in his life. This wasn't a street fight.
This was a lawless massacre.
Then—
He felt something.
It wasn't a sound.
It wasn't a vision.
It was as if a cold blade had been pressed against the inside of his skull.
Esharath lifted his head.
A short distance beyond the broken shacks, a sword was embedded in the ground.
At first glance, it wasn't eye-catching. It wasn't radiant or ornate. There was no scabbard. The hilt was worn, and despite the blood surrounding it, the blade itself felt strangely calm.
But as Esharath looked at it more closely, he understood.
This wasn't an ordinary weapon.
It was a Zanpakutō.
Esharath let out a quiet laugh. It was a self-mocking sound, directed at his own life.
"Bleach, huh…" he murmured.
Then the memories of the earlier slaughter surfaced again. In the chaos of the moment, he hadn't noticed—but now, as his thoughts settled, he understood. The corpses turning into drifting particles of dust. The traditional buildings that looked like something out of old Japanese history. And now, the sword before him, radiating an inexplicable presence.
This was the Bleach universe.
And judging by the surroundings, he was somewhere in Rukongai—a lawless place plagued by gangs and constant violence.
Esharath took a deep breath and stood up. He approached cautiously, each step making that strange sensation inside him grow stronger. As he drew closer to the sword, a faint hum reached his ears, like an indistinct whisper carried from a great distance.
He reached out his hand.