Revenge, is a dish best served cold [Private]

Seran waited and listened as the fullbringer spoke. The tone of her voice changed, but it was not the rage he had heard when she had broken free. It was steady, focused, as though while she spoke she could completely invision her goal in her head. As she turned away from him to put on her towel he smiled. Conviction. He had heard words spoken in that way before. His smile faded to a grim expression as the sun reflected off the water in front of him.

But it was raining then….


Rain dripped from Seran’s hair, the droplets lost in the cacophonous downpour around him. He was looking down at something… something in his hand... Water ran in rivulets down the side of a sword, flowing around the numerous scratches on the blade, and slowing down as it made its way over patches of rust. The weapon was was strange, seemingly too thick and wide for its length, which was that of a normal katana. But as his eyes drifted up the blade’s edge, it came to a section where the metal had been rent. The sword had once been long, meant to be held in both hands. But something had ripped the last third of the blade away, with such force that the blade had bent even as it shattered causing the break to jut out to one side. Droplets fell from the blade just as they did from his hair and clothing, and even though he could not see it clearly he knew it was not only water that dripped down into the grass.

“Why Seran!?!”

He looked up at the figure standing several yards in front of him. The man’s features were hidden by the dark and the endless downpour around them. But his garb was not. The Shihakusho, traditional garb of all shinigami, as black as the night that surrounded them. The shinigami’s arm was outstretched, pointing his blade at the mod soul accusingly. He wasn’t like the others; the ones whose blood currently ran down the Rabid Red Dog’s blade.

“They told me to bring you in. They want to make an example of you. To use you to justify what they-/”

“There is no justification.”

Seran didn’t yell, but his statement cut off the other man as if he had. The mod soul opened his arms as though presenting the area shinigami. He gaze did not move from the unseeable face of his former friend, but knew all too well what lay to either side of them.

“I could kill hundreds, thousands more and it would not even come close to justification!”

The shinigami’s accusing blade lowered, his resolved obviously faltering at the rage in Seran’s rising voice. But his sword remained between the two of them, hand clenched tightly on the hilt.

“I don’t want to do this. I know they were wrong about you. But this…. this is a massacre.”

“And what they did to us was a genocide.”

“Tell me they aren’t right Seran. I’ll bring you back, we’ll say it was self defense. You can show what they did was wrong. Tell me you want to stop.... Tell me you can stop.”

The memory began to fade away, but before it vanished completely he heard the words. The words spoken with true conviction.

“I will never stop.”


Seran’s mind came back to reality, and he caught the end of Aevi’s question. He stood from his seated position, and faced her again.

“We are directly above where you sealed yourself away… give or take. Much of the area changed once I excavated and out that laboratory and had this estate built on top.”

He motioned that they might head back indoors.

“Naruki City and Karakura town are much too far away to walk I’m afraid. Especially in…”

He made a point to look down and her still damp body covered with only a basic spa towel.

“...that. But your clothing issue should be simple enough to solve. Unfortunately your clothing was largely in tatters and for the most part unwearable. You can have them back if you wish, but I have much more suitable garments for you. Especially now that you seem intent on running headlong into danger. Once we get you fitted out, I’ll gladly transport and accompany you anywhere you’d like to go.