Wolf Among Sheep[Open]

On my fourth night of scouting, I over heard the conversation between two men, talking of something I have seen in my human years, and read in books. 'It was the only way to get this...food', one man, the older sounding of the two said, and at that moment I could hear his spirit, figuratively, complete its atrophy. 'What...What are we eating exactly?' The younger man spoke, his lips trembling to ask the question. 'Pork soup'. Ahh....Yes....Though the older man left the word 'Long' out of his reply. Even as a being who feasted on the souls of my fellows, this churned my gut, and I could taste nothing but bile the rest of the night. I find it humorous that such a thing could, and would happen in the Soul Society, no less. However, from what I was...briefed...on, poverty and hopelessness was a common thing. The further out one went, the more lawless and hostile the environment became. The thought causes the blood in my veins to heat, almost burning out my ability to reason. I almost made myself known then, demanding to know who was the cook of this supposed 'pork soup', and it took more willpower than I have ever needed to stay silent. A name stood out to me, Noxa, how at that moment I wished I decided to bring her. There are so many deserving of feeling her hooked and mighty teeth, to hear her beautiful voice echoing across the galaxy as she and I, together, passed judgment upon each and every offender. The first swing would not come and go, but would evolve into a second, third, and fourth. My arms raising and crashing down, gore and crimson liquid caught in between her teeth and mine as I butchered these heathens, splitting the air and their bodies in twain, again, and again, and again! 

The thought of my daughter, perhaps somewhere out here, potentially a victim, snaps me out of my red-hazed vexation. The last smile I saw her give me, a cure-all for my mental affliction at this moment. I have been looking for her for seven days, hidden in gloom, I have not found her. Alexandra would recoil in repugnance seeing me in such a state, eyes ceaselessly expunging my hatred and my body caked in the layers of blood and remains of all who stood in my way. I love my daughter, this is why I am here. Yet her soul was never one for war, for violence. She was more fond of Hollow than Shinigami, but to raise a finger in an attempt to harm another was something the girl was always hesitant to do unless she was truly forced to defend herself. Her weakness is the reason why I begged Hitomi to use her Gotei technology to erase her memories of all affairs of this infernal, Eternal War. The last thing she knew, I was killed in the park by an escaped lunatic and assumed my soul to go to Heaven, to rest and wait for God's chosen time to join both myself, and her beloved mother, Sophia. Little did we, and all those of the faithful know, we were fooled into believing in nothing but lies.

Only the high lords of the many gangs amongst the Zaraki circuit were targeted now. In secret, whispers of Kyōfu, The Dread, were abound. To these men and women who held these savage tribes together, Theocelese earned this nickname from. He stalked them days, sometimes a week or more on end. Every glance backward showed the hooded, claw-bearing figure just one more step closer than the last time he was looked upon. He broke their minds before he shattered their bodies. Rumors became first hand accounts of Kyōfu's actions. To these crime mongers who fled to their subordinates safehouses were allowed to do so, given a brief reprieve from the torment Theocelese so harshly placed upon them. Drinks were enjoyed to ease the tension, and as if he were listening in on the conversation, Kyōfu arrived. Those who took up feeble arms were stricken down, not killed and not mortally wounded, but ravaged by his claws enough to remove them as the pitiful attempts at resistance they were. And then...He left. Those who ousted their then former superior were left alone, though this did not happen until after the third or fourth method of terror instilled on these barely human monsters. When this did not come to pass, Theocelese returned to do this a second time. All who bore scars from his hunt all spoke of their former bosses being dragged away, kicking and screaming, only to have their voices abruptly silenced. Their fates, unknown, and only fueled the flames of Kyōfu and his wrath. The ones who were smart enough to get an understanding of what exactly was happening spread the word behind the backs of the rodents they swore fealty to. After this, it did not take long for the portion of the district Theocelese chose as his hunting grounds to come to terms with the drastic changes.



The slaves to the brothels, drugs and the oppressed were left untouched. The riches from those in whatever meager form of power were distributed as best as he could, with notes of telling these people to endure tyranny no longer. Embrace freedom, fight for it, and help the district grow prosperous. These were the messages of Kyōfu, who was now looked upon as if he were a coin. On one side, as the name suggested, he was something which loomed over every single Rukongai citizen who willingly engaged in acts lacking civility and morality. On the other side, Kyōfu was seen as some avenging force, wished into existence by those who experienced dread and cruelty at the hand of others who would take advantage of them. He was their guardian, and those who looked upon this shrouded legend offered what little they could, almost entirely out of edible food and clean water, as thanks. Rarely he took from these folks, and in these instances he did, only slim margins were taken as if to affirm their belief that someone with his tenacity did what he could to look out for them.



In this small sector of a far greater sized region did crime begin to plummet dramatically. It was fear and an almost cultist like superstition which made this happen. Kyōfu watched, and Kyōfu waited. The people, now no longer meek, unable or unwilling to direct the source of their misery, did so with fervor. Kyōfu came when directed to those truly guilty of heinous crimes. Things like a man stealing bread to feed his wife and children went ignored in action, but in words alone were addressed. Those who wished the malady of Kyōfu upon others, out of jealousy, revenge or ill will....vanished. No dramatic entrances, no traces of blood. They simply vanished, that is to say their presence did. Their souls were not obliterated, just...removed from the Rukongai. This short-lived re-enactment of the Salem With Trials smothered itself. In the course of just a few months, a few miles in radius was given a name, Kibō, and began to prosper. Borders were established, and from the inside out huts and shacks evolved into something worth being called a home. The former criminals used their brutality not on their new found neighbors, but onto those who entered Kibō with malicious intent. These people, barely able to call themselves peasants once before, would come to be skilled tradesmen and able to till the lands. Hostility was never directed outward, but only displayed in defense. These people of Kibō, now unified no longer felt fear and terror. They policed themselves, smothering any serious criminal resurgence. Kyōfu, as suddenly as he arrived, disappeared into nothing more than myth. The search for his daughter in this area still turned up no result, and Theocelese knew he would need to move quickly. In time, he would establish Kibō as a true outpost. The way back home to the Arrancar's fortress was there, hidden from all but to Theocelese himself.



However...the myth of Kyōfu spread like wildfire across the Zaraki district. The closest peoples bordering Kibō accepted this coming storm, some with open arms, others with a different set of arms ready in a feeble attempt to combat it. As the many kilometers closed closer and closer to the walls of the Seireitei, what was known as a fact became naught but rumors carried on the fast shifting winds.

Beyond the new found borders of Kibō, and once again plunged into the untamed and ravage streets of the Zaraki district, Theocelese set out to find and take out one of the larger of the crime lords. Ishimoto Norogumi, an older man rumored to have all twenty fat little fingers and toes dipped into every pool they could further contaminate. If this man was toppled, Theocelese was sure the rest would fall in line with the Arrancar's slowly growing city. He needed to make this next culling more extraordinary. More spectacular. More...terrifying. Kyōfu always struck at night, this much was certain. To throw the huddled masses of immoral low-lives into a state of perpetual disarray, Theocelese decided it was time to make his targets feel as if there was no chance for rest. There would be no reprieve, the claw-bearing psychopath would strike at any moment, at any time. Norogumi kept his abode saturated with guards the moment the sun passed below the horizon, but upon greeting the Rukongai in a new day, these guards lessened and their numbers consisted of little less than a skeleton crew. Today, no one would be safe. There was to be no mercy given.



Norogumi's small mansion held itself afloat only by the misery and torment of the people he oppressed, and now it was to all come tumbling down. Theocelese did not sneak into the building, but instead, went right for the entrance. The guardsman posted there did not have enough time to draw their blades. The talons mounted against his hands made short work of them, letting loose twin arterial sprays across Theocelese's ragged, black clothes. The doors were kicked off their hinges, and across the Rukongai the surge of powerful Reiatsu accompanied this. Theocelese moved with precision and speed as he zig-zagged across the courtyard to each and every target. Flesh was carved, necks and bones were broken, and behind the man seeking to bring down one of the many powerhouses of crime were a path of dead, or dying, people.



It took less than ten minutes for Theocelese to reach Norogumi, who was sitting upon a nicely carved chair. Two sword-bearing men were on his left and right, and in a line consisting of twenty men, the crime lord saw fit to have them armed with bows. Each and every one held their single-shot weapons at the ready, all twenty arrows prepared to let loose on the man walking into the room. Beneath the hood, Theocelese began chuckling.



"You know why I am here, yes?" The accented words poured into the room, and to the Rukongai criminals, it felt as though the temperature decreased drastically.



"You've come to kill me, but I think you oughta be the one coming out of this situation as a corpse. You're outnumbered, out-gunned. You know, with you working for me, we could take out all the other gangs! Think of it, we could be unstoppable!" Norogumi spoke, his pleading to join forces, Theocelese thought, to be pitiful.



"This will not happen. Reflect upon those who suffered by your deeds and know, it is no one's fault but your own for my being before you." Theocelese spoke slowly, his body adjusting to get into the right posture for the killing to commence.



"So be it." The crimelord waved a single, wrinkled hand and stood to his feet to make a hasty exit.



All the bow-wielding guards released their arrows in a single volley. At the moment of the multiple bows' twang, Theocelese's disguised form launched to the ceiling, turning to plant his feet on the new floor. In a burst of speed, the Arrancar closed the distance before any of the archers could re-load their weapons. Fear gripped them, causing once steady hands to quake. Theocelese dropped to the ground in the middle of Norogumi's men. The immediate cluster were torn to shreds, his claws raking across the faces, necks and chests of his victims. The two swordsman came rushing towards Theocelese, their weapons ready to strike. He turned to face them, grabbing hold of the dying bowmen. With one hand, he gripped the archer by the scruff of his neck, and the other grabbed the bowstring. The weapon had been reloaded, but had not been able to be fired. Theocelese planted on foot against the inside of the bow, lifting it upwards and pulling the string towards himself. Theocelese's form dropped backwards, and the bowstring shot forward, the released arrow flying into the first of the two sword-wielding men's throat. The man clutched the wound, stopping in his tracks, whatever he tried to yell came out as nothing but a gurgled mess of gasps.



Theocelese jumped back to his feet, just in time to dodge or knock arrows from hitting him. Not all suffered this fate, and several made their mark. Arrow shafts stuck out from multiple locations on both arms, legs, and from the left side of his torso. This caused Theocelese to lose his concentration, his mind becoming a whirlwind of maddened bloodlust, and he would have no recollection of how he killed the remaining guards. Subconsciously, his mind forced the power suppressor to tilt, letting his Reiatsu fill the room like a caustic smog. The power surge lasted only briefly, and when it diminished arms and legs and severed heads were thrown about. Intestinal tracts were ripped out, and blood was both splashed against the walls and pooled underneath Norogumi's chair.



During the small fight, the crime lord made his way to a nearby horse-drawn cart to make his escape. Before he could get more than a block down the road, Theocelese was already on the cart's trail, leaving a trail of bloody footmarks as he sprinted. The Arrancar, still enraged, leaped the distance and landed on top of the cart. With one fist raised, Theocelese's roar bellowed out as the first, second, and third punched broke the cart's top. Norogumi sat in wait, two spherical objects sparking in each hand. The small explosives were thrown up, the last ditch effort proving to be made in vain. The smoke hadn't cleared before Theocelese's arm plucked Norogumi from the cart. The driver, and horses, made away safely. But the crime lord, his fate could not speak the same. The man's face was driven into the ground, Theocelese's fingers clutched tightly the remnants of the man's hair. The Arrancar dragged the Rukongai dweller's face across the rugged and sad excuse for a road, grinding it across rock and stone and dirt. Theocelese was intent on doing this until the man's muffled screaming, stopped.

To Moeru's potential disdain, it would have appeared that none of the civilian populace had been touched. The young Shinigami saw the results of the Ryoka's actions, clean streets, most carried themselves with a smile and a sense of pride that had not been seen for many decades. They were not just gathered at the sounds and sights of combat, to these common people--to these peasants, the rumors they heard were true, and they were the first to actually be able to witness the being known only to them as Kyōfu do as others spoke of. For these folks, every scream was another link destroyed on the chains that shackled them, every loss on Norogumi's end meant one less thug to infringe upon the natural rights all humans should have. These people were not terrified of the event unfolding, but rather, seemed to be cheering it on. The attempts to get them away from it all was, in essence, a complete and total failure on Moeru's end. Those who were once at the brutal mercy of Norogumi could finally see justice delivered. As for the Crime Lord's minions, those who were still miraculously alive were hanging on by ever weakening threads. As for Norogumi himself....



Theocelese had been all but content to wipe this scum from this sector, and his method of doing so, as slow as it was, was twice as painful. Oblivious to the world and all that surrounded the Ryoka, the torment continued until the voice of Ikeda Mihri was heard. This stopped the black-clad figure in his tracks, though his grip on the old criminal's hair remained firm. The guise of a memory lacking vigilante was his part to play, and Theocelese would not be under-performing here. The distant crowds hushed at this sudden turn of events. The only noises to be heard were that of Norogumi's--muffled moans of pain and words half able to be deciphered. All were pleas of mercy. Then there were more words, another Shinigami arriving to dictate authority he did not have here. To stop in the name of a king? The thought was...laughable, and laugh the Ryoka would do. A spittle of blood and gore escaped between the man's lips, his form bobbing up and down from what, at first, sounded like a series of coughs. As this cleared up, the hooded figure turned to face the noble Shinigami, affirming her suspicions of who this truly was. Mihri was not greeted with a smile, but instead, a brief scowl. Fire burned in the man's eyes, and he wore malice upon his face as if such a thing were his actual skin. Whatever length of time he spent here, this district, or maybe the atrocities he saw and fought stole away the regal features of his face. In fact, any upstanding features or characteristics he wore on the day of their first, and obviously final day of coming across one another in Karakura, were gone. Even his attire was unbecoming, and he looked far from a man who could have easily passed as a General. The Ryoka--or Kousta, as Mihri would know him by in any formal sense, looked more the part of a barbarian.



For just a few moments, there looked to be some small kindling of recognition.



From a scornful gaze, to one of complete uncertainty. The fiery golden hues dimmed dramatically, and the catish canines were once again hidden between his cracked, and dry lips. Now the Ryoka held the look of a man who recoginized someone, and was searching through his memory to find out the reason why the woman he was looking at seemed familiar. This change in facial display disappeared not before long, and was replaced with one of curiosity. He would be as water in this change of events, and would follow the route of least resistance. The Ryoka's grip loosened from Norogumi, and the man stood tall now.



"I will...comply." The accented words released from his mouth were deep, and raspy. He spoke this aloud, so both of the Shinigami could hear him. The hooded man raised both hands to face the sky, though the left appendage moved to the right. The Ryoka was undoing the blades leather-bound to his hands. "I must question why mercy should be granted to this creature, this being, that sustains itself from leeching off of the misery and suffering of others?" The Ryoka asked, tossing one of the gloves to Mihri's feet and following this, the second.