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Doc : Yoshinaga Gorou
TheLightSage : Toride Satoru
TheLightSage : Toride Satoru
“You wa shock!” burst from a small little speaker in Satoru’s inner pocket. That was the ringtone for whenever his Soul Phone received a message containing the words Hollow, Yoshishige, or omelettes. Either way, he knew the message was important even before he flipped open the small device.
Periodic bursts of Hollow and Shinigami reiatsu present. Please observe and report. Potential combat between Shinigami and Hollow and/or a hybrid.
All of the other shinigami in his squad had received a message of the exact same wording a few days ago during the battle with Locura, one of Prometheus’ minions. Because of this, the other members brushed it off and kept moving under the assumption that it was a resend. Satoru, however, had been a bit busy assisting two shinigami in the slaying of the Scion and didn’t receive it the first time around.
Sounds like something worth investigating, and it isn’t overly far from here... the mystic thought to himself.
“I’ll be back soon guys,” he casually muttered to the other members of the Konsou squad he had been assigned to. “Orders from on high.”
Without further ado, Satoru rushed towards the coordinates given by the Soul Phone. Perhaps he was in over his head, but for the sake of curiosity he had to see if it was a false alarm.
Hiding was not something to which Gorou was accustomed nor amenable. Of the handful of Shinigami that sojourned in Japan none of them had come close to him so far. From his point-of-view, if one did not bother the other then there was no need to stoop to cowardice.
Some tension mixed around in his gut about the possibility that he could be met with hostility. Rather than fixate on a possibility, he tacitly relied on most Shinigami to hold the same concern as he for the safety of the population.
When at first the samurai had paid little attention to the familiar signature moving in on his location, it appeared that its holder wasn’t meandering aimlessly. There was no mistaking the Mystic’s afro. It seemed fitting that one of the two that had been present for the event that had put him in that hiding would be the first one to track him down.
“Otouto-san,” he approached Satoru having made no attempt to conceal himself, “what are you doing in this place?”
Satoru sighed with relief as the figure came into view, glad that he hadn’t stumbled into a potentially dangerous Hollow. He was surprised to see that it was the samurai from before striding toward him. There were no obvious scars aside from the rather large one in his chest. The mystic recognized it as the area where Locura had almost run him through like a samurai s’mores. For such a devastating wound, he seemed to have healed remarkably quickly, even by shinigami standards.
My inquirer’s intuition is buzzing again...
“There was an alert sent out, but the other shinigami ignored it for some reason. But never mind me,” said the afrogami. “All shinigami were recalled over three days ago and that other guy called you a Vice Captain. You have a responsibility back in Seireitei. Why on Earth are you on Earth?”
As Satoru made his point, valid as it was, Gorou’s expression glowered considerably. There wasn’t anymore than one single way to put it.
“My rank has no meaning,” he spoke tersely, “and the Gotei will hold me responsible for nothing. Not now, not anymore,” he said. To let the revelation sink in without more guidance might have been simpler than stating it himself. It wasn’t a very large leap. However, he wanted the truth to come from his own lips.
“I am here, in Japan, because I have become a Vizard.”
The mystic gasped dramatically, as if to say that he knew he should be scared. Before long, however, his gray eyes were slowly giving way to a look of contemplation.
That would certainly explained the combined readings we all got. Locura was merely providing an inadvertent disguise. Scary thing though... Central 46 has issued a kill-on-sight order if the Vizards break any of Soul Society’s laws. Despite the fact that they are on Earth.
Deciding to avoid stepping into yet another minefield based on a poor decision, Satoru merely shrugged and stated, “You have nothing to worry about from me. I’m a Mystic. If I wanted them to know, then I wouldn’t need my Soul Phone to communicate. I won't ask for your return to duty. I am not even strong enough to try.”
His eyes began to acquire a bit of a smile as he recalled something. “Instead, Samu-san, I will ask one favor of you. You haven't taught me that technique you used to stop a car. Are you busy?"
Simultaneously, Gorou was both confused and relieved at Satoru’s overall attitude. Having delivered the news the last thing he’d expected was a request to be taught. For what little good it would do him he straightened up his stance so as to get a better look at the Mystic. It wasn’t in his nature to assume trickery on anybody’s part, however. He nodded his head after a few moments of careful thought.
“I have more time now than I care to discuss,” the samurai said bitterly, “but if you wish to learn, I will teach you...” he trailed off in search of a name he hadn’t heard.
“Hmph,” he gave up the search, “tell me: I have seen many odd things in my time, but during that battle I witnessed numerous objects simply moving around on their own.
“Had that been your doing?”
"It was," explained the Mystic as a few bricks and boulders began to slowly rise from the ground. "The name of that power is Soshi, and it is easily the most useful application of the Mystic Arts in battle."
Success! If he were in any danger of going full Hollow, he wouldn't be trying to teach anyone anything.
"My name is Toride Satoru, by the way." He stretched out his arms and legs, as if to say that he was ready to begin. As usual, the Mystic had a hard time settling down when there was something to be learned. "So what is your technique called?"
While it had likely been the case that Captain Maikeru knew precisely how to encourage the technique from Gorou, the same could not be said for him. Teaching Satoru how to learn and master Fruit of Labor would be as much a puzzle as it had to learn it himself, if not moreso.
In spite of the old man’s ambivalence in terms of how to hand down his knowledge, his exterior remained as stoic as ever. Still, he stroked his beard as he considered how to proceed.
“Captain Maikeru called it ‘Fruit of Labor’, and it is her technique,” he corrected. From the edge of his vision he saw a car parked by the curb, or so he assumed. All metallic monstrosities adorned by wheels looked like cars to him.
“Ah, Toride-san,” he motioned for the Mystic to look over at the vehicle, “I want to see the limits of your power over Soshi. If you’re able to, then lift this, er, automobile.”
“Fruit of Labor. Seems appropriate,” remarked Satoru with a hint of dry appreciation as he sized up what the samurai had misjudged as an “automobile.” In fact, it was a Kawasaki sports motorcycle. It looked pretty heavy to the unenlightened, but reiatsu gave strength to the weak and brought the strong to their knees.
I can lift this.
He walked over to the lime green motorbike and kneeled next to it. Closing his eyes, he ignored the sounds around him. The birds fluttering through the sky, the whistling of the wind through his ears, the sound of Gorou’s breathing... all of it became secondary to the connection between Satoru and the latent reiatsu within the Kawasaki. A few beads of sweat began to secrete from his forehead as he reached out to the lime green contraption. With the utmost mental strain, the motorbike began to lift off of the ground a few inches. After a few seconds of holding it steady, the motorcycle dropped to the pavement.
“And for future reference, Gorou-san,” Satoru began as he stood to his feet, breathing a little bit more than he had been a second ago, “it’s a motorcycle.”
As much as Gorou understood the sound of the word that Satoru had uttered, he had no idea what it was supposed to mean. While its owner tried to connect word with object a single, bushy red eyebrow crept up and wrinkled his forehead. Focusing on it was a waste of time, he decided. It was enough that everything that looked like a car could be called thusly, regardless of what the younger generations wanted to name them.
He noticed the samurai struggling with the word, almost amused at the sight. This was a man who could wield swords the size of small buildings, exert his will over a moving car, and survive a Hollow’s strongest attack... yet he struggled with language.
It seems that everyone has their weaknesses. I know that I do.
“I am impressed, Toride-san,” he approached the Mystic, “if you can do that much with your mind alone, your body should be able to reflect that effort. However,” he paused to reflect on his own training for inspiration.
“I want you to try once more, but to try to lift the...‘moto-cycle’ with your arms, as well,” he instructed. Some modicum of how to go about teaching the technique was developing in his mind.
Again, the Mystic glanced at the motorcycle. This time, though, his habitual curiosity began to shine through the clouds of his normally stormy eyes.
What exactly are you up to, Yoshinaga Gorou?
He hooked his hands underneath the slightly greasy underbelly of the motorcycle. It started miserably at first as his substantial but inadequate physical strength pulled at the mass of machinery. After a good few minutes, his arms began to burn. Combining physical strength with the fine reiatsu control necessitated by Soshi was difficult, at best.
For a second, the motorcycle began to lift, but it was short-lived. By that point, Satoru’s arms and legs had begun to burn. With an annoyed sigh, the motorcycle returned to its normal position.
“I think I see what you’re trying to get me to do. Something about reiatsu control and physicality all mixed together, right?”
Again, Gorou stroked his beard pensively, eventually nodding at Satoru’s suggestion. There had been some small progress but not the kind for which he was looking. Physicality in tandem with reiatsu was what had been the key to his own success, but there was a certain sense of urgency that had been present before which happened to be lacking.
“You’re right, Toride-san. The mind controls the body, as well as reiatsu,” he explained what was likely a basic fact, “but you have a unique advantage. Using Soshi, your mind can act alongside your body.” Following that train of thought, he turned his mind to the task once again.
“However, the ultimate aim is for your reiatsu to be focused towards strengthening your arms, through any means,” he noted lightly, “you may try again, perhaps with the assistance of one of the hakuda techniques if you must, but I believe something else may be needed.”
Again, Satoru positioned himself near the motorcycle. He reflected upon the words of the swordsman about using the technique to strengthen limbs.
How the hell, he wondered as he prepared to try from a different approach, do you even lift?
Suddenly, one of his now familiar bursts of insight rushed through his mind. Perhaps he was going about this the wrong way.
Soshi was designed to connect a person to an object through the mind. Fruit of Labor was clearly designed to connect on a more basic level. If I focus Soshi through my limbs...
With that in mind, Satoru gave it another shot. The motorcycle rose again, but the contrasting forces of restraint and exertion won out again.
"Samu-san, how long did it take you?"
“To simply learn how to achieve the technique was not a lengthy task, but it was difficult,” Gorou thought back to his own training session, “but it was difficult. By the end of it Captain Maikeru had broken my body, but it was what I needed.”
What he’d seen so far confirmed his belief. Although he had no intention of breaking Satoru’s arms he did have a similar method in mind.
“Step aside, Toride-san, I wish to attempt an alternate approach,” he instructed. That his instruction and earlier statement about broken bones could be construed as being linked didn’t escape his notice. It just so happened that he didn’t find it necessary to openly state his intentions to the contrary.
From the Vizard’s view a direct threat was more effective than strict instructions. He stepped over to retrieve the motorcycle and just as quickly put some space between himself and the afrogami.
“If you would,” he said as he threw the motorcycle with a light underhand toss, “catch.”
"Are you insane?!" cried Satoru as he saw Gorou's hand start a throwing motion. Even as he shouted, he watched the motorcycle fly through the air. Suddenly, it appeared to slow down as his body moved without much thought. He reflexively raised his hands in front of him, but the difference being that he automatically transferred reiatsu into his limbs as he did so. Instead of being crushed flat, the bronzed shinigami found himself stopping the motorcycle midair with his bare hands.
Did he catch it? Not even close. He was still pushed backwards by the force. Did he avoid serious injury? Just barely.
The machine fell to the ground with a resounding thunk. The Mystic was absolutely amazed at what had just transpired and his eyes bright with shock and awe. He breathed heavily; and not with fatigue anymore, but with relief.
"If that hadn't worked, I would be seriously harmed right now..." breathed Satoru as his arms began to shout out the song of their ache.
For all the good Gorou’s stoic demeanor did him, he became the least bit nervous for a split second. Imitating somebody else’s teaching style was doing neither of them any good. For just one moment, he loosened his stance long enough to rub the back of his head while he gave his approach further thought.
“I apologize, Toride-san, my knowledge of these things is limited,” he admitted, “and I have tried too hard to approach this as a Shinigami. You have come closer with each attempt, but reiatsu and immediate danger are not enough.”
Once again he took stock of the young soldier in front of him. An older method handed down from a tradition far older than even the old man would have to suffice.
"If you don't mind me saying... Is it possible that the object in question is merely too heavy to start with?"
It seemed appropriate that the samurai had considered relying on his roots as the question arose. He clenched his jaw but managed just the slightest smirk at the same time.
“Too heavy? It’s too heavy?!” Disappointed, he shook his head back and forth.
“What if that car had been too heavy for me to stop, or your blade too heavy to take with you? If you can give up because something is too heavy, or too difficult, what good is waking up in the morning?” A snort followed his grumpy tirade. That sort of complaint brought about every negative thought he’d ever had about the generations that came after his.
“You called it an object,” he thrusted his index finger in the motorcycle’s direction, “and that is what it is! It isn’t willing itself to defeat you, it has no willpower, but you do,” his voice was raised but his temper was not. Again he returned to rest, folding his arms.
“Now prove it.”
A brief widening of the eyes was the only thing that gave away his shock at the outburst. In reality, Satoru had found himself surprised that the man had so much spirit. The samurai had seemed consistently stoic until...
Until a surmountable obstacle was presented, realized the Mystic. Like that Hollow, he only gets roused when he encounters a problem. But doesn't he have a point? Perhaps I am underestimating myself... Let's discover just how far I can go with pushing the limits of my body!
Steeling his nerves, he began to focus reiatsu through his limbs rather than trying to force Soshi through them. Jet black spiritual pressure began to permeate the air around the two shinigami as Satoru paid less attention to controlling his reishi and more attention to reaping the Fruit of Labor.
"Throw it again, Gorou!" he shouted with a forced bravado. "I'll be eating my own words if this works."
Before Gorou had taken so much as a step it occurred to him that the motorcycle would no longer suffice. Having merely halted the vehicle with his bare hands was itself a milestone. It meant that Satoru had progressed acceptably far to be pitted against a proper challenge. As he processed the thought, he’d already torn a vending machine from its place on the sidewalk. It was fortunate that nobody was about to pass through.
You know, mentally sighed the afrogami as the machine cranked out its protest, I should have anticipated that. Tempting fate I suppose.
“There will always be stronger enemies, and heavier weights,” he secured the vending machine over his head with both hands, “while heavier excuses will get you nowhere!” He’d given all the warning he was willing to give - in the space of a second the bulky mass of steel began sailing through the air towards the determined reaper.
The shinigami wasted no more words. From this point on, he was just ready to test out and perfect his new knowledge. The fear was still present in his eyes, but it was now overshadowed by something far more powerful. Instead of the terror, Satoru's stormy gray eyes looked ready to unleash a torrent of determination. He had garnered some information, but the feeling of potential ineptitude that so pervaded his motives for success managed to inspire his frustration. This powerful burst of emotions lent a bitter itch to dance within his ears. Instead if focusing on Soshi and his thought process, the sudden irritation led him to tone down his reasoning and find a middle ground between both mental prowess and physical effort.
So naturally, when the vending machine arched through the air raining used panties and school textbooks, Satoru lifted his palms to the machine and simply stated "Fruit of Labor." The reiatsu being channeled throughout his body pulsed through the sun-kissed hands and slender arms of the Mystic and lent him strength. The vending machine began to crumple in his hands as he stopped its advance. The force of the metal object was not without its effect; Satoru still felt the impact quite heartily. In spite of this, his feet dug into the concrete beneath his soles as he resisted the force of the machine with both his mind and his body in tandem. Instead of merely letting it fall, Satoru pushed back on the bulky mass and shoved it off to the side with a hearty "ATTA!"
Immediately after his triumphant display, his arms resumed their frustrated cry with more fervor than before. The rest of his body joined in alongside it to form a chorus of ache and fatigue that resounded throughout his form. Despite this, a small, smug grin slowly cracked through the mask of focus as if to tell the world Psh! I can take whatever you dish out.
For all of Gorou’s confusion about how to proceed it appeared that the direct approach had succeeded. There was a remarkable determination present in Satoru’s eyes after his powerful display had ended. An impressed grunt escaped his lips.
“Toride-san,” he approached the Mystic, “well done. It’s no ‘car’, but it is a start.”
"And every milestone of one thousand cars begins with a vending machine," noted the Mystic with a subtle pride in his voice. Satoru looked at his hands with a newfound respect for the power that they wielded. Sure he was a hakuda specialist, but never had he considered applying reiatsu to his discipline. Kidou like Talon and Breaking Palm were one thing as they merely increased the damage and area of effect that was already there. This, however, was a more permanent application of his spiritual power.
The implications of this... Fruit of Labor proves that reiatsu and physicality must not be mutually exclusive. That's definitely not something they explained very well at the Academy!
Looking back at Gorou, he asked, "So my Captain taught you this? I'm guessing that it was a rather... show, don't tell sort of training. If it was like my last couple of sessions with her, then was ever so slightly Kidou happy about it."
Stopping just a few feet away from his pupil, Gorou nodded his head.
“It was Maikeru-dono that passed this ability to me, but she did not use kidou,” the old man briefly recalled the feeling of rocks crushing his bones,”she hurled boulders at me until I had broken both my arms and legs,” he took another look at their surroundings.
“...But, there were no boulders here for me to throw,” he nearly sounded disappointed. In light of their accomplishment his mind turned to other things, such as Satoru’s sudden appearance just a few minutes ago. A handful of reiatsu signatures appeared at the edge of his perception.
“You may have spent too much time here, Toride-san. Your comrades are surely looking for you.”
Satoru's eyes widened considerably as he remembered the rest of the group. There were a lot of souls that had to be passed on to the afterlife, but surely they must have finished their work by now. It was only natural that they would begin the search process.
Even now, I still get far too caught up in discoveries for my own good! Ah well; at least this time was useful. Maybe now I can contribute to combat instead of merely hanging around the edges! ...Maybe.
Nodding at Gorou respectfully, he said, "Thank you for the training, Gorou-sensei.
"Oh, and can you suppress your spiritual pressure a little bit? If they feel any form of Hollow reiatsu, they will likely want to investigate. I may come back on occasion to see how you're doing. I also know that you're a good man, but I feel as though I should be the one to check on you and not some pencil pushers who don't know anything about the nature of your new Hollowkin status."
With that, Satoru turned on his heels with a final jaunty wave before returning to the group. As they welcomed him back, they asked what took him so long. The Mystic merely replied, "Some trouble with attamobiles."
WC : 3,873