The Kuroi-Raion family heirlooms, a set of twin zanpakuto originally wielded by the family founder, have been passed down from one generation to the next for several millennia. The first born male are always chosen to inherit the finely crafter blades. At least this was the case before the youngest male of the previous generation, Kuroi-Raion Yorudan, inherited the highly coveted heirlooms. This is the story of how Yorudan came to inherit the twin zanpakuto he holds so dear to his heart. This it the story which centers around the very event that made Yorudan a prodigy in the eyes of his family.
Over two centuries have passed since that day long ago, when Yorudan accomplished something that no living member of the Kuroi-Raion had ever witnessed.
“Ouch!” A young Yorudan screamed. “Why do you have to twist them so hard sis?!” He continued while scrunching up his tiny nose and lips. The young boy had many years to go before he grew into his large buggy eyes.
“Well your locks keep coming loose and to be honest I’m tired of doing this every week. Maybe if you stop playing with them so much they’d have time to dread properly.” His older sister replied while both twisting his hair and positioning each lock to carefully frame his round and seemingly swollen face. “Maybe instead of complaining you could show a little gratitude? After all most men in our family don’t get this done until they begin combat training.”
“I’m not most men!” He replied enthusiastically. His excitement temporarily pushed the pain from his mind, but when the pain came back, it came back with vengeance.
“That’s right you’re not. You’re the son of the current sword holder.” She said whilst finishing the last lock. She stood and walked towards the other women who were gathered at the one window of the small room.
“He’s not just the son of the current holder, he’s my son too.” One of the women replied. Her own locks were by far the longest of the women. She wore her large cluster of hair neatly balled up atop her head. The mass of hair seemed to defy gravity. No one else in the eighty first dare try a style so bold. It was her daring, in many more aspects of life than just her hairstyling, that attracted Yorudan’s father to her, and it was her daring that made her the single most amazing woman in Yorudan’s mind.
They peered through the window at the gathering group of men outside. Something was causing them to panic. The jumbled voices and their worried tone only grew as time continued.
All of this went unnoticed by Yorudan. He had his eyes on something else. The Kuroi-Raion family heirlooms mounted on display on the furthest wall above a pile of other swords. He slowly rose to grab hold of one. As he did, his hand was met with a comforting warmth. Though he himself was never interested in wielding a blade, and was dreading the day when he’d be forced to learn to use a weapon, holding this blade was comforting. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with the added pressure of learning to wield these slaying instruments.
“Yorudan!” A woman shouted. He clumsily dropped the sword into the small pile of swords below.
“Grandma?”
“Put that back!”
He did as requested. He reached into the pile and grabbed a sword.
“Grandma...” He asked before placing the sword on the wall mount overhead.
“Yes Yorudan?” One of the oldest women responded while turning to face him.
“You’re a better fighter than dad aren’t you?” He asked innocently.
“What...what makes you say that?” She said, obviously confused. She made her way from the window over to him before kneeling down to his level.
“Before...when I was little and I fell down the big hill you and dad were far away but you made it to me first.”
“Well, firstly, you still are little. And it wasn’t really a hill, it was more of a cliff.” She said while ruffling his hair. This of course caused a brief stinging sensation.
“Ouch!”
“I made it to you first because your father took the long way.”
“I know he took the long way, but you jumped down the hill...I mean cliff.”
“Well Yorudan, it was a small cliff.”
“But he couldn’t do it.”
“Well, I’m older and have experience with jumping off cliffs.”
“Well, I heard the other people talking before and they said that you saved Dad from a hollow he couldn’t beat once.”
“Well, I....we...we don’t really talk about that.”
“So it’s true then?” He said while turning to face her. “Then why aren’t you the one who uses the family heirlooms to save people from the hollows?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you can beat hollows that Dad can’t, shouldn’t you be the one who gets the swords?” His inquiry drew the attention of every female in the room. Apparently his question was of more interest to the females than the growing crowd of people outside. They all turned to her as if waiting for an answer.
“It’s not that simple.” She responded seriously while pulling Yorudan in close.
“Only men are allowed to use these. It’s tradition Yorudan.”
“Tradition?”
“Yes, that means that the Kurio-Raion family has done this since the beginning. So we must continue to do it as a sign of respect towards those who came before us. It’d be disrespectful to break tradition.”
Her answer seemed to disappoint the females who were listening with open ears. Before they had a chance to turn back the single door in the room slid open. The man that burst through the door hurriedly walked towards the wall mounted blades. His locked hair, thick as a lion’s mane fell roughly down his back and to each side of his face. Even as he moved they stayed in place. His garments though tattered and torn were clean and their beaded sequence still intact. Everyone but Yorudan and his grandmother, threw themselves to their knees and bowed as he pulled the blades from the wall.
“Dad? What happe-“
“Mom...” He said while turning to leave. “Keep Yorudan inside. I’ll have someone stand guard outside. There have been reports of a hollow escaping from the Gotei 13’s research facilities. It’s begun terrorizing the community. We can’t afford to wait for the Gotei 13 to clean up their mess.”
“If it escaped from the research facilities, then this can’t be an ordinary hollow. You’ll need all the help you can ge-” She was stricken with silence when he cut his eyes at her.
As the door slid shut, Yorudan unknowingly saw the last images of his father he’d ever see again.
Again, the women flew over to the window. Yorudan’s grandmother was the last of them to follow. Yorudan would have followed to had he not realized that he had made a mistake. The sword that he placed atop the wall mount was not one of the family heirlooms. Though he couldn’t tell the difference in terms of their physical appearance, the feeling of warmth that emanated from the sword he now set his eyes on was unmistakably the same he’d felt just minutes earlier.
He had to get the sword to his father. If what his grandmother had said was correct, then he would need both in order to defeat the hollow. If he didn’t have both swords, he’d be hurt, or worse. Furthermore, Yorudan would be the one to blame for his injuries.
He quickly made his way over to the sword before picking it up once more. The warmth it gave off washed over his young body, but he didn’t let it distract him. He clumsily walked towards the door but he found it difficult to carry a weapon that was nearly as tall as he was. He carefully slid open the door making sure not to make a sound. Perhaps he could get the sword to his father and return before anyone knew that he was gone.
