'We must be quite far from the campsite.'
Jumping between the branches of the many trees in the forest, one could witness an unusual scene: a boy, no older than seven, holding a girl of similar age while leaping with her in his arms.
His sweaty, furrowed brow revealed the urgency and fear of something yet unseen.
Thanks to the speed of his movements, his hair whipped wildly through the air.
Stopping on a thick branch, the boy turned his face toward the girl in his arms and opened his mouth to say something, but an ominous feeling struck him. Instinctively, he jumped to the side in desperation. At the exact spot where he had been, a beam of blackened red light crashed down with tremendous force.
FWOOOOOM
DOOOON
'Damn it, this bastard's no ordinary Hollow. They can't use Cero… An Adjuchas?'
The boy thought, anxiety rising in his chest, tightening his grip on the girl.
And then, he heard a distorted voice:
"Zehahaha! Two prey with such delicious aromas and such sharp survival instincts that they make me salivate! Devouring you will be a delight!"
Emerging from the dense thickets surrounding the area, the creature revealed itself.
A nearly four-meter-tall being stood imposingly.
Fat and plump, with fur and limbs resembling a mole's. On its face, a white mask shaped like a rat's, but twisted with a demonic grin.
"Shit…"
...
"I'd rather not think too much about it, but my Reiatsu is strangely irritating."
Ichisuke mulled it over as he walked through the forest, following that bizarre spiritual pressure with a hint of curiosity.
Ever since he gained spiritual awareness, thanks to Ichigo, he had learned how every manifestation of Reiryoku, Reiatsu, behaved and developed a sense for their patterns: Hollow Reiatsu was more aggressive; human, weaker; animal, weaker still. He had yet to interact with a Shinigami or be near someone with that lineage at least, one who had awakened it.
The fact was, whenever he tried sensing his own Reiatsu, he felt a kind of vertigo, something deeply unpleasant. And the Reiatsu he was tracking now had that same off-putting quality.
He walked straight ahead, like a mouse drawn to the scent of seductive cheese, until he came across something peculiar: a house in the middle of the forest.
It looked old and rustic, built entirely of wood, with planks sealing the windows and doors. As a bonus, several signs read: Do "Not Enter!" or "Keep Away!", but Ichisuke ignored the warnings.
'Hm. Maybe it belongs to a local lumberjack? The town isn't that far, and the forest rangers' post is even closer.'
He hadn't seen many horror movies in his past life, so he wasn't immediately creeped out by the setting.
Ichisuke looked up at the sky, debating whether to head back to camp or let his curiosity take over. Then he saw something.
'Wait, a shooting star? Please don't tell me I'm in one of those crossover/mash-up worlds from fanfics. I really don't want to deal with alien invasions.'
His eyes widened.
And then he burst into laughter.
"Pfft... Kahahahaha! Aliens are for Americans! And demons, for the Japanese. Let historical geography decide!"
Wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, Ichisuke decided to enter the highly uninviting house.
Since the front door was a no-go, he took the Santa Claus route, through the chimney.
Even though Ichisuke could no longer manipulate Reishi, he could still control his Reiryoku and enhance his body with it, at least to a decent degree.
Crouching, he tensed his legs and launched himself onto the roof, landing softly.
The house wasn't tall, so climbing it wasn't difficult.
Now face to face with the brick chimney, he thought.
'Kids, don't try this at home.'
Thanks to his small body, slipping through the opening was an easy task.
The moment he entered, a scowl formed on his face, and he started scratching his hands.
'Damn filth! Whoever lives here has either been forsaken by God or is just a pig!'
It might have been an abandoned place—but that thought didn't even cross his mind.
The young Quincy stood still, closing his eyes and focusing on the spiritual trace he'd been following.
'Not too strong, but carries an intense presence.'
It was like being in his room, filled with a faint scent, subtle, yet so potent it lingered for hours.
He'd found the source.
'The classic under-the-carpet hideout. Call me a Jew-hunter for this level of precision.'
(Author: If anyone's offended, I apologize, but I had to reference Inglourious Basterds.)
Silently moving the chairs and table aside, he finally uncovered what the carpet had been hiding.
'The texture was obvious; with the furniture, it got away with it.'
Lifting the rug revealed a handle. No lock.
Taking a deep breath, Ichisuke mentally recited a mantra in some ancient tongue, placing his fate in the hands of a certain bald monk.
The dark-haired boy gently lifted the trapdoor and found a stairway.
The strange thing was, unlike the house, this place was lit.
Kurosaki swallowed hard as he stepped down the stairs.
'Shit! Shit! Damn! Damn! Why am I even doing this? I just want marshmallows!'
There was no turning back. Something deep in his mind told him that if he didn't keep going, he would die.
Stepping on the last stair, he heard—
"Is that you, daddy?"