Bleach: Cero Devastador

The only years of my life that were peaceful were perhaps the first five. My mother showered me with love while my father stared at it all with a keen eye. They were memories of a child, faint. 

When I was big enough to hold a weapon, that's when it all began; pain can increase the lucidity of even the faintest memories while everything else fades away in the darkness, even if it is extreme happiness.

The body and mind start to engage in a constant self-learning pattern; pain is therefore a necessary evil. However, what he subjected me to was not something humanly bearable. 

For as long as I can remember, since I held my first weapon, all I've known is pain. 

"Stand up".

"Stand up, Ryōma... we are not finished".

"What are you waiting for? stand up!"

"Stand up, Hisashi Ryōma!"

A bit more pain, a bit more anger.

When delivering pain, my father was mostly nonchalant, with very few cases of anger mixed in. The anger was mine, although, at that time, I didn't know what that emotion was. My once beloved mother was always blindfolded, quick to mend my wounds and quick to ignore them once more.

"You can do better, Ryōma".

"Think of the positive among the negative, this is the best for you".

...

I was the only son of the prestigious Hisashi Dojo in Kyoto, a house of at least a hundred disciples, national champions and even famous in the worldwide spectrum. My birth was difficult and painful for my mother. I was too big, my mother was too petite and therefore, the incident cost her her reproductive capabilities. 

There would be none after me. No little brother or little sister... no other successor for my father and none was necessary; I was a young man, with excellent talent, the perfect heir.

Perhaps due to the guilt I felt or the guilt they implanted in me, I never questioned her nonchalant eyes during those years as I was struck over a hundred times per day every day with a bokken (wooden sword).

According to that psychopath, he was 'teaching' me the Hisashi Style from a young age so that I would have even more potential than he had since he started when he was ten years old and his training regime was a lot less tyrannical. 

Since my late grandfather had, you know, common sense.

I'd only know rest once I hit a major milestone for about a week, a time I considered as paradise. Once I managed to strike my father at least once during our spars, I'd be given a whole day's rest.

Due to the ferocity of his training regime and how questionable it was; I was secluded most of the time, I attended private classes at our manor and only attended social outings when they were necessary.

Even then, I craved freedom... the little moments of peace had me there had to be more to life than pain. I was afraid of getting used to it; sadly for me, I already had. 

I was allowed to do a few things, but one of them was to watch the TV. It was amazing for me to think there was more freedom within that little box than there was in this gigantic manor I couldn't even call home as it didn't resemble what I saw in those programs that a family should be. 

The first time I tried to escape was when I was fifteen. I recall now, it was funny that the only thing I thought to take with me was my bokken. I was used to holding one tightly, I felt uncomfortable when I didn't have one. 

The world outside was as I expected it to be, colourful. I was not one to get depressed, even when I saw that the life I was having in that mansion was miserable compared to others, I didn't decay. 

My father taught me to always stand up. My mother taught me to always look at the good side of things. Although both lessons were a bit skewed to fit their agenda, I still learned. 

My first time out I walked all day around the prefecture, and I didn't eat anything. I was hungry but I didn't take any money with me so I coped. There were plenty of places to see and go to with a lot of people wandering around, even tourists.

I got lost... but it didn't matter, I wanted to get lost. 

Deep in the night, I saw all kinds of crimes taking place. It was like in the movies on TV but with no police in sight, In fact, I think I did see a policeman in one of those filthy corners, a young lady wearing a high school uniform was kneeling in front of him doing something...

There would be geezers in the corners giving white powder to young high school kids and making wrong dealings. They seemed so enthralled in their crime that I was invisible to them, or maybe my attire was so off-putting they may have had a misunderstanding. I was wearing a white Hakama, my training robes, together with my bokken.

In a particular corner, an ill-looking man was together with some of his friends, he was holding a girl that was technically semi-naked, they were smoking and he seemed to be offering her 'services'.

Out of all the criminals, they caught sight of me.

"Huh, what's this brat doing here dressing like that?" One of them huffed, I was just staring, trying to understand what they were doing. 

"Leave the boy alone. Sweetie, come here, are you lost?" The girl said, she grasped my shoulders and asked, taking me away from those guys. 

"Are they doing something bad to you, oneesan (sister)?" I asked her, still rather innocent back then.

"Oh my, what are you? a little hero or something– huh?" She began coquettishly, but looked at my hakama and gasped. 

"I-Iwata!"

"Hmph, do you know that boy?" The man asked, he thought my name was Iwata.

"This brat's hakama is branded Iwata! Those are very expensive you know?! Hey Otouto... don't you want to give this away to oneesan? oneesan will kiss you~"

I frowned and quickly understood what was going on.

"Oi, you heard her, brat... quickly give that away and get a kiss and piss off–"

*BAANGG!*

The moment that woman tried to open my Hakama, I took a step back, so swift for her to even notice, then struck her wrist with my bokken. If that had been my father he'd have caught my sword, kicked my chest, disarmed me and then proceeded to punish me with twenty strikes as a punishment for my failed attempt. 

As for this woman... her wrist shattered. 

"AAAAHHHH!!!" A gnashing howl of pain resounded on the streets, that feminine howl of pain made something inside me flare up for the first time. When I looked at her, her wrist was bent in an odd direction as she writhed on the floor. 

"My mom said... I should never remove my clothes in front of anyone else".

"Fucking brat, what do you think you're doing!" The man came at me with a knife in hand, I smiled and charged at him.

He swung his knife at me twice, but more than causing me pain with it, he was causing me pain with his speed. The fight felt so boring and unnecessary. I struck my sword against his face and heard a cracking sound that made me panic.

I thought I had done some sort of amateurish sweep that bruised my sword, a fatal error. However, my sword was spotless once I checked it while the man's face was bleeding as he screamed in pain.

"I see..."

It turns out, the people outside are so free but also so feeble. 

I felt the urge to punish this man for his failed attempt at taking my life. Suffice it to say, I destroyed him and his friends who came after him... I lamented it right after, even as I tried to run away, the police caught me. I was not given any charges, but I was taken home where a heavy punishment awaited me. It was the most pain I had felt in my life.

Physical pain from my father, and psychological from my mother... telling me that she wouldn't be able to live if anything happened to me, to never do that again.

A pity, I no longer cared for either of those. 

Because I had felt pleasure for the first time. It felt good... it felt nice to crush that weakness beneath my bokken. 

I kept leaving my house at random moments for the next four years until I became an adult, I graduated from my homeschooling with average scores, a disappointment for my parents. At that time, one of my father's old antique swords was stolen away from our treasury, I wonder who took it.

I made friends on the streets and eventually became the leader of my own gang. Why? Admittedly misled by my friends. They wanted women, drugs, alcohol, money... I just wanted to fight.

It didn't matter if they had knives or guns... all I needed was my sword. I made a reputation out of my name with it. Funny enough, I was the only gangster in Kyoto with a sword.

I naturally didn't succeed my dad as the master of the dojo, but I still challenged him to a duel when I turned eighteen and I destroyed his Hisashi Style in front of all the disciples, spit on his pride and left the house.

I could have done a lot more damage before my departure, but... I was conscious that the only reason I was able to effortlessly step on other's weaknesses was because of this man. As disgusting as it feels... his training regime had worked. 

My mother cried for me to not go but I felt nothing when I saw those tears, all I kept with me was a pendant I got from her when I was a little boy when the pain hadn't yet started, I took my suitcase full of clothes and left to one of the gang's cribs. 

From that moment on, I was just Ryōma, gone with the Hisashi.

That was freedom. 

...

*cough!*

*cough!*

The blood splurting off my mouth is so nostalgic. Where was I again? Those childhood memories feel so vivid. All that pain, as if it hurts again. 

"You should have known this was going to happen when you chose to wield a stupid sword instead of a gun, Ryōma".

I guess we don't live in those times anymore, I read several history books about those samurai times, and I wish I was there. Those times in which a sword could take you places, in this current modern world, they no longer need swords. 

The end of the cannon pointed at my head, but I was faster. With the hilt, I struck the gun, and with the blade, I sliced my throat. 

"Bastard!"

"When I die, I die by the sword..." As shots rained on me, I accepted my fate. 

'Look at the positive among the negative...? At least I got to live a few years of freedom. I wish I could be born in a place where a sword means everything'.

After all, wielding a sword was the only thing I was good at. 

My eyes closed and when they opened, that's precisely where I was. Although at that time, I didn't know.