AimiLuna

 Ren looked at Hitsugaya sadly as he held his head. He was muttering something unintelligent to himself. Ren tried to calm him by holding his hand and running her fingers through his dirty white hair. Nothing she tried worked. She shook him hard and that brought him out of his trance. He stared at Ren with tears in his eyes. "Why can't I remember? Shouldn't it be easy?" Tears flowed out of Hitsugaya's distressed teal eyes. Ren didn't know what to tell the crying child. She wiped the tears away. "Don't cry. I'll help you get your memory back. I swear." she told him. "Really?" he asked. Ren nodded. Hitsugaya threw his arms around Re

 Hitsugaya's arm burned with pain. The man smiled as he prepared for another strike. He gave Hitsugaya five long deep wounds on his arm. Then he put the knife back on the table and sat down in a chair, watching the boy. Hitsugaya cradled his wounded arm against him. The gashed refused to stop bleeding. Blood soaked his white linen shirt. 'Why are they hurting me? What did I do wrong?' Hitsugaya thought. His fingers were numb and he felt light headed, both from loss of blood.  He looked at the man with rage and hate. His vision was clearing and he could now make out the man's scrunched up face. The man's smiled grew and he had an evi

 Hitsugaya inhaled the food placed before him. It was a huge lump of yellow paste that looked like mashed potatoes. It smelt like sulfer and looked like it crawled out of the sewer, but Hitsugaya didn't care. He ate the whole lump as fast as he could. He was so hungry that he began to lick what was left off the plate. The man with the viking beard flung the door open and marched in. When he saw Hitsugaya licking the plate, he let out a thunderous laugh. "You are so pathetic. It's hilarious." barked the man. Hitsugaya looked up at him from the floor. His eyes seemed more alert then before. Subtle emotions swirled in his eyes. The ba

 Pained shrieks echoed through the old tunnels in a secluded mine. In a large open area, people in white coats rushed busily around preparing tests for their subjects. One man with a bald head and a beard like a viking made his way into a cell in the back of the mine. He slid open the heavy wooden door and entered. He looked down at the boy chained by his skinny wrists to the far wall. "Status." he said to the two other scientists. "We had to drug him to give him his mark." answered the woman with a bob and thick glasses. She turned the boy's head and pushed his snow white hair away from the thick black bar code tattooed on the back