A wolf youkai, in Rukongai. Watching over his shinigami as the little captain slept, Hyourinmaru nudged the boy further asleep. And yet – not a wolf. I think.
Wolf or not, youkai or not, dragons were still kin to all that ranged the wild. The howl was clear.
I live. The pack lives. We come for you.
A pack-leader’s howl, to one separated from the pack. Which implied both the joy of a pack and the hate of something that had tried to sever it-
Hyourinmaru hissed, decided. Wolf youkai were many things, but they were never weak. Anything that could threaten a pack….
“Who are you?” he cast into the spirit-winds, soaring at the edge of Toushirou’s soul. “What danger do you bring to my shinigami?”
If this were a true youkai, he would hear no answer. If….
A booted foot crunched on snow.
Hyourinmaru hovered, curious. Black coat, long black hair; the most human zanpakutou spirit he’d seen in decades. Which was in itself both curious, and a warning; a zanpakutou’s form was a clue to its wielder’s soul, to the source of his power.
And this one is human.
Human in clothes, in scent, in feel; in every tiny twitch of movement so clear to dragon eyes. Human, despite the breath of storm, the ghost of a white wolf that clung to him like a second shadow. Blazingly human, the taste of his power raw as any newborn soul-
Icy wings missed a beat. Hyourinmaru coiled and settled to the snow, as if it’d been his idea to land all along.
Newborn. This spirit is… young.