Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Matsurika's Vow
Life was unfair, Matsurika felt cheated. She never felt so powerless in the whole 250 years of her existence. She endured, she survived, and she experienced, but never lived. No, living was such a foreign concept to the filth of Rukongai like herself. Living was reserved for the upper crust of the Soul Society, the nobility that lived within the cozy, protected walls of the Seireitei. All she did was survive.
The spiritual pressure was too much. Poor Rangiku, a starving child she picked from the streets, had already fainted, and she wasn’t far from collapsing too. It was only by luck that they, while looking for refuge for the night, stumbled upon this forsaken duel—a fight to the death between the captain of the 11th Division of the Gotei 13, Kenpachi Kiganjō, and the rumored Kenpachi, a bloodlusted beast known for always wanting more, always on the lookout for his next opponent to test his blade on.
The clash of their reiatsu was suffocating, like being submerged in a sea of sharp blades. Matsurika's knees buckled, and she clung to consciousness by sheer will. The air crackled with raw power as the two Kenpachis collided, their swords meeting in a symphony of death.
Kiganjō, a mountain of a man, bellowed, “You think you can take my title, you beast? You’re nothing but a wild dog!”
Zaraki’s grin was feral, his eyes gleaming with unrestrained excitement. “A wild dog, huh? I’ll show you what happens when a dog goes rabid.”
Their swords met with an earth-shattering crash, the ground beneath them splintering from the force. Matsurika could only watch, frozen in place, as these titans fought with a ferocity that seemed to shake the heavens. Each swing of their blades was a testament to their power, every strike a deadly promise.
Kiganjō swung his massive sword with brutal strength, aiming to crush Zaraki with sheer force. But Zaraki was relentless, his movements fluid and unpredictable. He danced around Kiganjō’s attacks, his own strikes quick and deadly. Their battle was a brutal ballet, a dance of death under the blood-red moon.
Matsurika’s thoughts were a whirlwind of despair and helplessness. She remembered the blood-stained night her mother was murdered, the harsh rejection from the village, the cruel family that used her, and their eventual brutal end. But nothing compared to the helplessness she felt now, with Rangiku’s small, unconscious body in her arms and the oppressive weight of the spiritual pressure crushing her.
The fight raged on, Kiganjō’s rage and strength against Zaraki’s unyielding bloodlust. Blow after blow, their reiatsu clashed, creating shockwaves that sent tremors through the ground. Kiganjō’s anger turned to desperation as he realized Zaraki was not just surviving—he was thriving, reveling in the battle.
“You’re insane!” Kiganjō roared, sweat and blood mixing on his face. “You can’t defeat me!”
Zaraki laughed, a sound devoid of sanity. “That’s where you’re wrong. I live for this.”
With a final, decisive move, Zaraki’s sword pierced through Kiganjō’s defenses, embedding itself in his chest. Kiganjō’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief as he staggered backward, his sword slipping from his grasp. Zaraki twisted the blade, ensuring the kill was final.
As Kiganjō fell, Zaraki turned his attention to Matsurika and Rangiku. His eyes, both glowing with a terrifying intensity, met hers. Matsurika’s heart pounded in her chest, but she met his gaze, refusing to look away.
Zaraki approached, his presence overwhelming. He looked down at the two of them, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Matsurika feared he would finish them off. Then he smirked, his voice dripping with mockery.
“Well, what do we have here? A couple of rats caught in a storm?” he taunted, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. “You look pathetic, clinging to that child like a lifeline. Do you think begging will save you?”
Matsurika trembled but forced herself to speak, her voice barely a whisper. “Please... she's just a child. She doesn’t deserve this.”
Zaraki’s smirk widened, his tone mocking. “A child, huh? And what about you? Do you deserve to live? Look at you—so weak you can’t even stand under my spiritual pressure.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Do you want to die here, with your little burden?”
Matsurika’s resolve hardened. She shook her head, clutching Rangiku tighter. “No. I want to protect her. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Zaraki’s laughter was harsh and cold. “Protect her? With what strength? You’re nothing but a weakling. If you want to survive, if you want to protect her, you’ll need to get stronger. Much stronger.”
He straightened, his cruel gaze never leaving her. “You have a choice, rat. Stay here and die, or get up and prove that you’re worth more than the dirt under my feet.”
With every ounce of strength she had left, Matsurika forced herself to stand, her legs trembling. She fled the battlefield, her mind a chaotic storm of fear and relief. She ran until her legs could no longer carry her, finally collapsing beneath the shelter of an ancient tree. The moonlight filtered through the leaves, casting a gentle glow on Rangiku’s pale face. Matsurika held her close, tears streaming down her face as the weight of their narrow escape settled in.
The night was eerily silent, the echoes of the battle still ringing in her ears. She had survived yet again, but this time, it felt different. This time, she had something to protect, someone who gave her life meaning.
As she cradled Rangiku, exhaustion overtook her, but sleep did not come easily. Her mind was a tumultuous sea of memories and fears. She reflected on how pathetic and powerless she had felt, the cold reminder of her weakness biting deep. She vowed to herself, with a fierceness she had never known, to become stronger. She would protect Rangiku, not just as a stray or another mouth to feed—those were rare enough in Rukongai, where hunger indicated spiritual energy—but as her precious treasure, the source of her happiness and the reason she would keep fighting.
Matsurika's grip tightened around Rangiku as she made her vow. She would never allow herself to feel this powerless again. She would find strength, she would endure, and she would protect the one thing in her life worth protecting. Rangiku was not just a responsibility; she was a light in Matsurika’s dark world, and for her, Matsurika would become invincible.
As she lay under the ancient tree, the cool night air enveloping her, Matsurika’s mind drifted back to her own childhood. Born in the 80th district of Rukongai North, a place where people were the scum of the earth, she didn’t die and come from the world of the living like most others. She was born there to a prostitute. Her mother's name was Kiko, a cute name that meant hope, quite the joke made by the universe. Kiko was a tall, slender woman with jet-black straight hair, round big black eyes, high cheekbones, a long neck, and pale milky skin. Matsurika didn’t look much like her mother. Yes, she was tall, but longer than what was acceptable for a girl. Her mother often threw glass at her for only inheriting her eyes and nose and everything else from her mysterious sire—a client, apparently a monk since he was bald, had prayer beads, a brown long wavy beard with the same texture as her hair, and the same eye color. He was on the bulky side, something Matsurika seemed to have inherited from him.
Some days, her mom would throw a fit about money since her daughter needed food, unlike her. "You're just a burden, an ugly little burden!" Kiko would scream, her voice echoing through their small, dilapidated home. "I can't even sell you! Who would want you? You're hideous!"
Matsurika learned early on to make herself small, to hide from the rage and frustration that seemed to consume her mother. The world outside their home was no safer. "There are a lot of bastards out there," Kiko would say, her tone a mix of disdain and fear. "Dick bastards who would take advantage of a girl like you. You stay hidden, you hear me?"
For 50 years, Matsurika lived in the shadows, hidden away in a cramped closet whenever a client came by. Her mother’s justification for this cruel confinement was always the same. "You're better off hidden," Kiko would say, her voice laced with bitterness. "Better than being out there and getting used up like me."
Matsurika's world was one of darkness and solitude, punctuated by the occasional harsh light of reality. She remembered the sting of hunger, the constant gnawing pain in her stomach, and the few scraps of food her mother begrudgingly gave her. She remembered the loneliness, the endless days and nights spent in silence, with only her thoughts and the sounds of the outside world for company.
There were moments of desperate longing, where Matsurika would press her ear to the closet door, listening to the muffled sounds of life beyond her confinement. She longed to see the sky, to feel the sun on her skin, to know what it was like to truly live. But every time she tried to break free, her mother’s harsh words and brutal hands pushed her back into the darkness.
Then came the attack. The day her life changed forever. A child, not much older than herself, wielding an elongated sword, cut through the streets, leaving a trail of death in their wake. Matsurika played dead under a mountain of corpses, the smell of blood and decay filling her senses. She watched in horror and awe as the child struck down the first Kenpachi, their sword a blur of lethal precision.
Later in life, she would hear tales of this beautiful, deadly woman who was part of the original Gotei 13. But in that moment, all Matsurika could think of was survival. She lay still for three days, hidden beneath the rotting flesh, until the chaos subsided.
When she finally crawled out, weak and starving, she buried her mother with trembling hands. There was no love in the act, only a sense of grim necessity. Her mother was dead, and now she had to fend for herself. While scavenging for food, she found an asauchi—a plain, unmarked zanpakuto. This piece of information would too be learned later. She fell in love with the sword, cleaning it and taking it with her on her journey.
The memories flooded back as she looked at Rangiku's peaceful face. She couldn't let Rangiku suffer the same fate. She couldn't let her experience the same loneliness, the same terror, the same helplessness. For the first time in her long, miserable life, Matsurika had a reason to fight, a reason to become stronger.
The decision to go to the Shinigami Academy was not an easy one. She had always harbored a deep resentment for the Seireitei and its inhabitants, the nobility who lived comfortable lives while people like her suffered. But now, with Rangiku in her arms, she saw the Academy as their only hope. It was the only place where she could gain the strength and skills necessary to protect Rangiku. It was the only place where they could both find a semblance of safety and stability.
Matsurika's thoughts solidified into a plan. She would endure the rigorous training. She would face whatever challenges came her way. She would rise above her past and carve out a new future, not just for herself, but for Rangiku. She would make sure that Rangiku had the chance to truly live, to experience joy, love, and all the things that had been denied to her.
With renewed determination, Matsurika held Rangiku closer, vowing silently that she would never let anyone, or anything harm her. They would leave this cursed place behind and step into a new world, a world where Matsurika's strength would be their shield and her resolve their sword. Together, they would survive, and more importantly, they would live.