[11th/11th] Week 281: Not Like You Imagined

[Wayne]

4,023
Not Like You Imagined
Reijuu | Takehiro​

“O-oh god, it’s massive...!”

“How the hell did something like that slip through our radars??”

“Shit... shit... and there’s more than one...!”

“...What!?”

Worried murmurs filled the room as analysts and patrolmen alike scrambled to get a better read on the current scenario among the World of the Living. Southwest of the jureichi, just a few miles off the recently-made warzone of Mount Fuji, an entity with considerable spiritual energy suddenly appeared out of the blue. The initial analysis spoke of a regular-sized Hollow terrorizing the vicinity, but upon further investigation, its power level had grown sporadically to that of a Gillian and beyond. Already, a number of pluses were eliminated off the map, possibly devoured by the monster already. To make matters worse, it seemed as though there was a second signature closing in. Ascertaining what the other one was proved rather difficult, as no one could pinpoint whether it was a shinigami, an empowered human, or another demon.

From the dim-lit room, a single hand reached forward and grabbed one of the Senkaimon operators on the shoulder. Kyuketsu, the captain of the Eleventh Division, had arrived just in time upon hearing their distress. He had dealt with such a scenario before, particularly when he faced off against the monstrosity known as the Clockwork Clown.

“Open the gate.” The captain’s words were quiet, yet bold.

“R-Reijuu-taichou,” the operator said, nodding as he acknowledged the officer. “Do you wish to be briefed on the situation first? We’re still piecing together the...”

The swordsman’s hand fell to his side, brushing against the tight hold of his zanpakutou. “No. I’ve heard all I need. If this monster... or monsters are as frightening as they sound, then I’ll just have to put that claim to the test.”

[ I’ve been waiting for this, Shun-chan. It’s been a while since Jii-san practically saved us. ]

It has, hasn’t it? the purple-haired Striker replied, almost forgetting the fact that it was Hisao that he should be thanking. For that very reason, he was given more space and time, something that both he and Yuzuki Masato of the Eleventh had once both agreed that he would need in order to fulfill his goal and purpose.

“It’s just up ahead. I’m actually surprised that Soul Society hasn’t even considered dispatching anyone to get rid of it,” he said, his purple irises zoning in on the creature that had caused massive disturbances around these parts as of late. “Ah well, I can’t complain. That leaves me a job to do, so I guess I should be thankful for that, hm?”

Besides, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice in the matter. Not only had this particular target gone so far as creating large collateral damage, but it had also devoured many plus souls at a rate that he had never seen. In its path of carnage, it had gotten closer and closer to his hideout too, the old shanty warehouse that the old man had loaned to him. And should it continue to roam about, then it wouldn’t be too long before a soul reaper would indeed be sent out to eliminate it. Should it have escalated to that point, then surely they would have found the warehouse, no matter how secluded and well hidden it may have been.

With that caution in mind, Shunsen Takehiro, now fast approaching the Hollow, held his soul slayer ready, his teal reiatsu already being channeled throughout its surface. In a flash, he was upon the abominable demon, cutting a few of its many appendages in one fluid motion of his blade. It left an almost inextinguishable flame spreading across the stumps that the Adjuchas now had, enough to drive the creature into a mad screech and more than enough to shatter the eardrums of anyone within a hundred-mile radius.

The shockwaves of malevolent reiatsu spurred the Senkaimon’s trajectory. Its target site was compromised, leaving the captain appearing some odd miles away from the source of the ruckus. Despite his distance, however, he could already feel the powerful presence choke the land. The Hollow was no ordinary fiend, and from its scent alone perhaps it had already crossed the line of becoming a Menos. That being said, its threat level seemed controllable enough for one of captain-class spiritual pressure... up until Kyuketsu noticed the inevitable.

Looking down at his left wrist, his skin was inked with the Eleventh’s insignia—a yarrow. It seemed his powers were restricted dramatically, sealed off by Gentei Reiin.

He clutched the grip of his zanpakutou, immediately discarding the thought. Solidifying particles of reiryoku beneath his heels, the captain set off, eager to come face to face with the epicenter of the growing chaos. Strangely, as he drew closer, he began to feel the force of another shinigami entangled with the Hollowfied titan. Already unfamiliar, it came as oddly suspicious in its emergence.

As the other shinigami approached, it would find that it was far too late to join in on the battle, if one were to even call it that given how stunted and one-sided it quickly became.

Putting one hand over his face, he gathered the spiritons in the very air. There seemed to be a brief moment where the space around him became distorted, bending to his own will as the ivory mask slowly attached itself until it finally clinked into place.

[[“There are two paths ones such as us may walk. Two choices present themselves here; submission or rebellion. To rebel is to hold dominion over the beast within you for as long as you can. To submit is to compromise with the monster within you.”]]​

The path less traveled by. That was the price he paid, and the penultimate decision that he came to. He had allowed the beast to take control; it was his partner now.

Behind the slits of the wolf-like mask that he now donned, his eyes turned the color of muted bronze, its line of vision extending farther than what was capable of the normal human eye. Noticing the various points of the hollow’s body that made it most vulnerable, the purple-haired vizard struck all of the vital areas, his blade dancing about fluidly.

Finally landing on the other side of the behemoth, with his back turned to it, he made a motion to slide Momentos back into his scabbard, but before he could so much as do so, he stopped mid-motion.

Tilting his head a bit but not enough to fully acknowledge the robed figure swooping in, he declared boldly at the newcomer, “You’re awfully late there, shinigami. What took you so long?”

His eyes sharpened, focusing not on the fallen brute, but on its slayer. He saw the whole affair unfold, from the initial step to the ending blow. It took less than a minute to quell the threat, quite a feat even amidst officers of the Gotei Thirteen. Even within the confines of a gigai, the individual displayed prowess exceeding that of an everyday soldier.

And then there was the mask.

Kyuketsu locked sights with the hybrid, gold matching bronze against the backdrop of the fading sun. His attention never wavered, remaining intact and at the ready. Behind the two men, the remnants of the slain Hollow began to wither and dissipate, crumbling slowly into pieces before fading with the wind. For a moment, the captain of the Duelists gave no response, instead he sized down the masked man should a confrontation arise.

This was not his first encounter with a vizard, and among them, he had already matched wits with their most previous Imperator, Adachi Hisao. As for the purple-haired combatant before him, however, Kyuketsu knew next to nothing.

Purposely exposing the sealing tattoo on his wrist, the captain finally replied:

“Adachi Hisao. Nigiri Hotate, and now this. I assumed your lot was exterminated, but it seems some are still prowling about. Do show some manners, hybrid, and unmask.” He paused, bringing emphasis to his demand. “Or should I assume your prolonged state of Hollowfication as a sign of hostility?”

“How harsh and quick to judge, but I don’t blame you.”

He shrugged. It was not his obligation to comply to this man, who seemed to know a fair bit about what was left of the Army of Masks, but that knowledge would prove a useful asset. Maybe, this shinigami might be able to tell him the whereabouts of any other of his kindred that may still be out there, hopelessly lost without any sort of figure to take the reins and guide them.

“I’m a man of my word, but times have changed. As long as I know little to nothing about who you are or what your stance is on a Vizored like me, then I refuse to take off this mask,” Shunsen said coolly, this time turning around to completely face the white-haired boy.

But what was this? Branded on the haori secured to the man’s left shoulder was the number eleven kanji.

As if, something deep within him called out, he mouthed out, “Yuzuki...” just loud enough so that the other shinigami could hear him. Garnering a befuddled expression, Shunsen sighed.

“Tell you what, you answer some questions, and I’ll unmask myself. That haori you carry... belonged to a man named Yuzuki Masato. If in fact, you’re his successor, then I’m sure you must know what might have happened to him.”

He scoffed unhesitatingly at the remark.

“I’m the first to wear this haori, as its previous incarnation has now been reduced to ash courtesy of the Soutaichou.” Kyuketsu whipped back a portion of the ivory cloth, exposing the zanpakutou secured by his waist. “And if you’re of any sane mind, you’ll leave the questioning to me.”

Slowly, the captain began to encircle to the vizard, analyzing every spec and minutia of reishi that defined his form. Disregarding the young man’s proposition, he merely continued on, asking, “Who are you, and has Ascania made contact with you yet?”

It was a shame. The question was left hanging in the air, unanswered. His mind was more fixated on the status of Masato. It would appear as if the Interim Captain of the Fearless Duelists had either been felled or had stepped down, and the only way of finding out anything about any current events that may have been taking place within the White Walls was through this rather shady man.

“A travesty don’t you think? If you won’t sufficiently answer the questions I direct at you, then I’ll give you half-assed answers myself,” Shunsen finally said, lowering his gaze to the reaper’s soul slayer, but more importantly towards the mark that was branded onto Kyuketsu’s hand, the very one that had been placed on him as well many a times back during his shinigami days. With that in place, it would seem either the man was cocky enough to think that the balls were in his court, or he was truly just that powerful to be acting in such a way.

“If you wanna know who I am, I’m a former member of the Blitzkrieg Strike Unit, led by Ritoru Furousha. And the man you are referring to - well, I’ve never heard of him. What does he want with me?” he asked, unperturbed by the calculating gaze that seemed to be probing him, trying to figure out the inner workings of both his mind and physical prowess. Laughing at the irony of it, he realized that he probably shouldn’t have expected less from a Captain of the Eleventh.

“A smartass. I’ve never seen that one before.” Kyuketsu snorted, smirking halfway. “Officially, our sides are under ceasefire for the time being. No reason to engage a filthy half-breed unless otherwise provoked. So... I’m to stay my blade.”

He held out his index finger, sliding it slowly down the length of Tenzansatsu’s hilt. “But who knows? My grip might... just... slip. It’d be a shame should that ever happen.”

The names this individual kept saying were of long gone, long replaced leaders of the Gotei. Both Furousha and Yuzuki were a generation away in regards to the standing with the current captains. For the Third, Ascania and Amaterasu, respectively, succeeded the Blitzkrieg captain from Faust’s reign. In regards to the Eleventh, the vizard didn’t even make the slightest mention of Tsubaki or of her Templar enterprise. Perhaps the man’s time away from Soul Society and of any contact with other shinigami had dimmed his perception, so much so that he knew little to nothing of its current affairs.

Then again, the masked bastard could have also been lying—an idea the captain was more inclined to lean towards. But for now, if that were the case, then he would play along.

“You seem lost... and uninformed. A travesty, don’t you think?” he repeated the hybrid’s words, mockingly so. “Both captains you spoke of are dead and gone. Poof, just like that. The end of an era came by in a heartbeat, passing you without a second’s notice. Did your friend Adachi not tell you this?”

Shaking his head, Shunsen replied, “I never got the chance to ask him. Besides, Jii-san was never the type of guy to divulge everything he knew.”

And even if he had back then, he wouldn’t have been able to completely register everything. Having been one of the last to awaken from his pod, this was one of the many changes that he had become so accustomed to hearing in a matter of minutes.

Hanging his head for a second, he contemplated the news. Ritoru and Yuzuki... dead? It was almost like a cycle of misery now, why was he still the one that had survived? What had he done so differently to have enabled him to see another day? Had this been a year ago, he would have probably succumbed to the despair that seemed to follow him. However, the infection that seeped through his body now had not only opened his eyes to truths that would have broken a normal man, but it had also helped him grow - to be able to make decisions on the spot without so much as even wavering.

“If there’s a ceasefire, I haven’t even caught a glimpse of it. If its orders from the Central, then it’s just another ruse,” he finally continued, disinterested in some sort of petty excuse for a Gotei attempt at mending the brewing tension that stemmed for a millennia between the two groups. It didn’t matter who him and his kind allied themselves with. It would wind up with the same conclusion. The humans, their most recent beneficiary, had betrayed them, and they had done so vice-versa. There was hardly any genuine trust anymore with the increasing number of lofty ambitions and desires amongst their races.

“You’re right about one thing though. It would really be a shame if you were to let that zanpakutou of yours slip. Right now, with that limiter, there’s not a damn thing you can do. If you value your life, then you’ll restrain yourself from doing such a thing,” Shunsen began, his voice no longer holding that neutral tone to it. “But if you can’t, then I’m curious, Captain of this ‘new era.’ What would you gain from trying to get rid of me?”

“Sport.”

His reply hung in the air, cold and callous. A full, smug grin defined the captain’s features, further insinuating the depravity of his words.

“And this neat little thing?” he continued, motioning at his reiatsu seal. “By all means, you’re more than welcome to test your luck. Come now, it’s not like it’s a capital offense to attack a lowly, humble captain of the Thirteen Court Guards.”

Despite the quarantined state of his full powers, there was a stark, unmitigated intensity which emanated from the captain’s form. The electrifying sensation felt like something beyond the realm of spiritual energy, an ulterior, ungodly force which spiraled from Kyuketsu’s very presence. His barbaric, savage intent became nearly tangible, suffocating the air with its inaudible howls.

And then he bowed his head.

“But tell you what, my good sir vizard,” his voice bore calculating decisiveness, “From one god of death to another... former, at least... I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours. Your mask, that is.”

He pointed to the lupine visage worn by the half-breed. “And I’m not talking about that thing, either.”

Eyebrows arched within his mask, Shunsen stared with contempt at the soul reaper across from him. A high seated officer, a Captain moreover at that, with this level of tainted spiritual pressure? Did this man think that this was a game, a blood fest that he would enjoy? While the Duelist seemed to be measurably cool-headed, there was noticeably a malevolent aura amidst the facade that was behind all of that. If this was truly the successor to the Eleventh’s legacy and one of the taichous of the new era that had dawned upon the Gotei, then surely this spelled bad trouble. Nevertheless, matters of the Gotei were no longer his business, nor was it his to concern himself over the path that this shinigami chose to walk.

Reaching forward towards his mask, he grasped the ivory firmly, closing his fingers tightly around the edges of it before finally it shattered, leaving him winded briefly. For a moment longer, his eyes retained their bronze color before finally they returned back to their regular purple along with normal whiteness of the sclera. Now unmasked, the ex-shinigami adjusted his headband and scarf before finally speaking.

“I’m not interested in knowing your psyche or what you truly are, Captain. I’ve already gotten a pretty good idea of that,” the purple-haired speedster said, “But what I am interested in is one last thing.

“The concept of fearlessness. Is it naive to chase after it? Does it even exist? What does that word mean to you, Duelist?”

In a flash, Kyuketsu whipped free and brandished Tenzansatsu to the vizard. There was no belligerence in his move, instead bearing only theatricality to emphasize the display. The sword’s sleek, silver sheen reflected with miraculous clarity, passing and cutting through the specs of light present around them.

“People often tend to confuse fearlessness with honor.” He sneered contemptuously at the thought. “Although I firmly believe otherwise. To become fearless means to become unbound by the shackles of one’s self and of society. To tackle head-on the frightening colossus known as ‘life’ and not dread the consequences. An individual who is truly devoid of fear is one who is both blessed and damned, for he treads a path that would ultimately lead to solitude. Fearlessness equates to a man’s willingness to conquer in the name of destiny, so as to claim what is rightfully his.”

A metallic hum reverberated through his sword’s frame, echoing silently with the breeze.

Eye poised on the vizard, the captain continued, “It exists, alright. How bad you want it depends entirely on you. Curious... is that what drove you to become what you are? An outlier, an exiled... an outcast?”

“In a sense, yes and no.”

“At one point, I would have thought the same thing. From your definition of it, I am fearless, but that couldn’t be more from the truth. I live my life in constant vigilance, in fear, in solitude,” Shunsen began, “It’s not because I drove myself to lead a life like this, but rather, I had no choice. I don’t know anyone who would willingly want to live like this, and for that reason, I envy you, Captain. I don’t know how long you’ve been a shinigami, but surely, you must have heard about the incident with Anton Zhukov invading the Rukongai three years ago along with a certain creature, Daedalus - I think that’s what it called itself. Even with several captain-classed shinigami, we couldn’t do anything but that is besides what I am getting at.

“Becoming fearless isn’t the point. That’s impossible. It’s like chasing after ever-lasting peace. It is temporary. I made the mistake of following the foolish notion that I could turn myself into a fearless shinigami - that maybe by doing so, I could truly grab onto my ambitions and goals. What I soon learned was that fearlessness is not the absence of fear, but rather having fears. It’s learning how to control your fear, and how to free yourself from it, if even for a moment, by continuously combating against it.’

“Surely one such as yourself has already and still are experiencing moments like that, crossing paths with those leagues stronger than you, feeling like you have to train more just to make sure that the gap doesn’t distance itself. And if you deny it, then you’ve got another thing coming to you.”

Sharply holding Kyuketsu in his gaze, Shunsen quickly added, “Earlier, I could see into your savage intent. I don’t know what you hope to accomplish, or how you might have fooled your examiners into giving you a haori, but before I go, I was told that there are two things in life that one needs, time and wisdom. In my case, I needed time more than wisdom to consider things and have thought it through, and I still am thinking. For you, it seems like time won’t change your rationale; you aren’t a fool or else you wouldn’t be a Captain now. But let me tell you this, the path that you’re treading on, nothing ever good comes from it. Captains, more experienced, with noble intentions have all died. If we cross paths again, I’m interested in seeing what it’s done for you, boy because there’s a third thing that I’ve come to discover that one needs and perhaps applies to you more so than the other two.

“Audacity. To take risks, and still believe that those under you will follow you without question. My late Captain Ritoru entrusted me with a lofty role, telling me to carry on despite how limited my optimistic perception was. And no I’m not referring to the sort of bravado that they teach you with sword-play. I’m talking about conviction that fuels your decisions no matter what risks there might be and no matter how frowned upon it might be, you wholly believe yourself to be right even if that means exchanging honor for dishonor or vice-versa.”

Turning away from Kyuketsu, he had just enough time for parting words.

“The Blitzkrieg is physically gone, and so too are the Fearless Duelists during my time, each replaced by what I can only assume are different renditions. The torches have been passed, but how long can they remain lit?” he concluded, before smoke erupted from the spot that he was standing on just seconds ago. In no time, the Shunsen that Kyuketsu had been conversing with had poofed out of existence, one which the Captain would realize not too long after was nothing but a mere clone.

He chuckled to himself watching the vizard disperse. As abrupt as the young man’s exit was, it didn’t come without its fair share of boons. To Kyuketsu’s delight, the hybrid had indeed shown his true mask—a faulty, whining fragment of the past content with petty notions no better than an excuse for inadequacy. Regardless, the former shinigami’s information prov rather instrumental in sating the captain’s curiosity, more so than what Shenrai Kiro had given him not too long ago. From his talkative blather, the half-breed had inadvertently given just enough detail to divulge his own identity, despite not mentioning it explicitly.

Purple hair, proficient in hohou, victimized by Daedalus’ schemes, and a former member of Furousha’s Third. That about narrowed it down.

“Interesting...” His bangs draped over his eyes, shrouding both orbs of golden grandeur. “Then we’ll see how that pans out for you in the future, little vizard.”

Smiling, the captain gave one last glance at the spot where the Hollow’s slain form once lied. With nothing left and only the scant traces of the hybrid’s reiatsu present, Kyuketsu opted to call for home.

“Hmph... Daedalus and Zhukov, huh?”