Inside his mind’s eye, Hyōrinmaru bristled like a frightened cat, always on edge, always wary, always ready for a battle or even a skirmish. The swell of spiritual power was overwhelming and nauseating to Tōshirō, so much so that he would have to retreat back to his barrack just to breathe easily. It was a tame and nameless thing then, before the rage of youth swept through as an ever-present undercurrent, and Tōshirō knew no real nightmares at that time of his life, as if the dragon offered him peace when nothing else could.īut then he entered the Soul Society and everything changed. In dreams when he was young, he would sit beside the beast and gently pet its liquid-clear scales until its body rumbled with contentment. The dragon had slept inside him for so long, Tōshirō couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been aware of the creature’s presence.
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