Shun
New Member
Continuing
1.076
By the time the Eleventh’s taihonbu could be seen, it was already drawing closer to midnight. There were numerous shinigami still loitering about, but many had gone to call it a day to his relief, which wasn’t surprising considering the rise in hollow activity both around these parts and in the material realm. As someone who had been pretty inactive recently around the ranks of the Duelists, he wasn’t particularly prepared to answer questions... not yet at least.
As his sights trained in on a lone figure overhead, he launched forward, wasting no time to confront the individual. The other man sat cross-legged on the rails of a bridge, eyes closed but still attuned to his surroundings. Although having appeared quietly across from the man perched on the other rail, it was apparent that his presence was already known; but yet, the samurai made no motion to acknowledge him.
For a few moments, the growing silence extended until finally, the pink-haired soul reaper grew tired.
“Yo, got a sec?” he began.
Still no response. Under normal circumstances, he would have probably thought nothing of it and turned to leave, but this man irked him more than anything. It was unfortunate that he was the only one that might have the answer that he was looking for. Trying a second time to garner a response, he once more failed. Gritting his teeth, the pink-haired youth grabbed the man by the scruff of his collar, with his other fist coming close to punching the man.
“Is that a way to greet someone, Yonseki?” the black-haired man finally said, grabbing hold of the incoming punch as if it held no force to it although the resounding impact said otherwise. Shocked by how adept the man was both with and without the blade, the pink-haired youth stepped back, stunned momentarily.
Finally opening his eyes, the other Duelist reached into his robes, pulling out his frames. Adjusting his spectacles, he finally locked gazes with the fourth seater. That same condescending scrutinizing gaze.
“As rowdy as ever. You haven’t changed, Ryoujin.”
“I can say the same for you, Kenji,” he replied.
“Well, what’s wrong with staying the same? Anyways, that doesn’t matter. Seeing as you are here, I am guessing you’re finally going to accept my training, and change your ways.” Kenji smirked.
“Hah, if that was the case, then I would have gone to your classes a long time ago,” Ryoujin replied.
“Well, if that isn’t it, then what is it? We’re approaching New Years soon, and I haven’t been able to meditate as well as I have tonight.. that is until you interrupted, of course.”
“Trust me, I’m not enjoying this as much as you are, but any insight would help,” Ryoujin stated flatly. “I’ll put it bluntly. I’m at a cross roads right now. I’ve achieved Bankai, but now what else is there?”
“What else is there!?” Kenji asked incredulously. “Ban kai is the not the pinnacle of a shinigami’s potential. If you’ve been under the notion that it is, then I am beginning to question how the Academy brought up your generation. Growth is not only through the blade; it can extend to-”
“I’m not quite here to listen to your philosophy; you know exactly what I mean,” Ryoujin said.
“Then is it power? You want more power? That makes you no better than than that ravenously hungry Captain of ours.”
Kenji sighed at this, and this time, the condescending expression that was glued to his face had disappeared, replaced by an expression of actual concern.
“You’re shit, you know that? Not in the sense that you have no attributes to rank you amongst the formidable amongst the Gotei’s arsenal, but shit because you have no drive or motivation. And even when you do, it’s always momentary, a small spark that is extinguished in a matter of minutes.
“Back when you first joined the Eleventh, you were already stirring up trouble. You weren’t fit for the division. In fact, I thought when the Siege took place, you would have either been slain by the Menos that showed up or driven to eventually send in a transfer request, but countless times, you survived, and you stayed. And why? I don’t know, but quite frankly, it’s worked.
“You say you’ve reached a cross roads, but I’ve gone through several life times now to see right through cases like these. The only reason why you’ve fallen behind your subordinates is because you’ve gotten lax. Your expectations of yourself are too low, which makes me wonder why Tsubaki ever thought to promote you back then. I’m guilty of being envious, in fact when it happened, I tried to find the answer to it. And then I finally did.”
“But what does my promotion have anything to do with-” Ryoujin countered.
“Give me a second here. In a sense, I am a better shinigami than you, a model soul reaper to follow. But in another sense, I probably won’t ever be. You’re different. You’ve got a flare that’s been missing amongst most veteran shinigami like me. If you ask me, that is where power is. We are given identities, constructed both by the relations we have and what society expects from us, but true freedom exists when these identities are broken apart to some extent. Now, I’m not saying that you should go on a fucking rampage, because the law will stop you, but what I am saying though is it’s your willingness, your mentality that will ultimately determine how far you will go.”
At this, Ryoujin rolled his eyes, electing to drown out whatever nonsensical thing Kenji might have preached about next to reach a state of Enlightenment. However, he did appreciate the last sentiment that was said. Tsubaki’s subtle comment during their last fight finally made sense now. He didn’t have to venture on some long-journey to grow stronger, nor did he have to leave the Eleventh to accomplish that.
Noticing the change in the pink-haired vagrant’s demeanor, Kenji laughed.
“So now that I’ve helped you, how about it? Will you finally go to one of my classes?” the instructor asked, already knowing the answer.
“I ready told you, if I didn’t go three years ago, you already know my stance on that now,” Ryoujin laughed, turning. Before he disappeared into a shunpo to leave the samurai to his meditation, he forcefully found it in himself to say, “Thanks.”
As his sights trained in on a lone figure overhead, he launched forward, wasting no time to confront the individual. The other man sat cross-legged on the rails of a bridge, eyes closed but still attuned to his surroundings. Although having appeared quietly across from the man perched on the other rail, it was apparent that his presence was already known; but yet, the samurai made no motion to acknowledge him.
For a few moments, the growing silence extended until finally, the pink-haired soul reaper grew tired.
“Yo, got a sec?” he began.
Still no response. Under normal circumstances, he would have probably thought nothing of it and turned to leave, but this man irked him more than anything. It was unfortunate that he was the only one that might have the answer that he was looking for. Trying a second time to garner a response, he once more failed. Gritting his teeth, the pink-haired youth grabbed the man by the scruff of his collar, with his other fist coming close to punching the man.
“Is that a way to greet someone, Yonseki?” the black-haired man finally said, grabbing hold of the incoming punch as if it held no force to it although the resounding impact said otherwise. Shocked by how adept the man was both with and without the blade, the pink-haired youth stepped back, stunned momentarily.
Finally opening his eyes, the other Duelist reached into his robes, pulling out his frames. Adjusting his spectacles, he finally locked gazes with the fourth seater. That same condescending scrutinizing gaze.
“As rowdy as ever. You haven’t changed, Ryoujin.”
“I can say the same for you, Kenji,” he replied.
“Well, what’s wrong with staying the same? Anyways, that doesn’t matter. Seeing as you are here, I am guessing you’re finally going to accept my training, and change your ways.” Kenji smirked.
“Hah, if that was the case, then I would have gone to your classes a long time ago,” Ryoujin replied.
“Well, if that isn’t it, then what is it? We’re approaching New Years soon, and I haven’t been able to meditate as well as I have tonight.. that is until you interrupted, of course.”
“Trust me, I’m not enjoying this as much as you are, but any insight would help,” Ryoujin stated flatly. “I’ll put it bluntly. I’m at a cross roads right now. I’ve achieved Bankai, but now what else is there?”
“What else is there!?” Kenji asked incredulously. “Ban kai is the not the pinnacle of a shinigami’s potential. If you’ve been under the notion that it is, then I am beginning to question how the Academy brought up your generation. Growth is not only through the blade; it can extend to-”
“I’m not quite here to listen to your philosophy; you know exactly what I mean,” Ryoujin said.
“Then is it power? You want more power? That makes you no better than than that ravenously hungry Captain of ours.”
Kenji sighed at this, and this time, the condescending expression that was glued to his face had disappeared, replaced by an expression of actual concern.
“You’re shit, you know that? Not in the sense that you have no attributes to rank you amongst the formidable amongst the Gotei’s arsenal, but shit because you have no drive or motivation. And even when you do, it’s always momentary, a small spark that is extinguished in a matter of minutes.
“Back when you first joined the Eleventh, you were already stirring up trouble. You weren’t fit for the division. In fact, I thought when the Siege took place, you would have either been slain by the Menos that showed up or driven to eventually send in a transfer request, but countless times, you survived, and you stayed. And why? I don’t know, but quite frankly, it’s worked.
“You say you’ve reached a cross roads, but I’ve gone through several life times now to see right through cases like these. The only reason why you’ve fallen behind your subordinates is because you’ve gotten lax. Your expectations of yourself are too low, which makes me wonder why Tsubaki ever thought to promote you back then. I’m guilty of being envious, in fact when it happened, I tried to find the answer to it. And then I finally did.”
“But what does my promotion have anything to do with-” Ryoujin countered.
“Give me a second here. In a sense, I am a better shinigami than you, a model soul reaper to follow. But in another sense, I probably won’t ever be. You’re different. You’ve got a flare that’s been missing amongst most veteran shinigami like me. If you ask me, that is where power is. We are given identities, constructed both by the relations we have and what society expects from us, but true freedom exists when these identities are broken apart to some extent. Now, I’m not saying that you should go on a fucking rampage, because the law will stop you, but what I am saying though is it’s your willingness, your mentality that will ultimately determine how far you will go.”
At this, Ryoujin rolled his eyes, electing to drown out whatever nonsensical thing Kenji might have preached about next to reach a state of Enlightenment. However, he did appreciate the last sentiment that was said. Tsubaki’s subtle comment during their last fight finally made sense now. He didn’t have to venture on some long-journey to grow stronger, nor did he have to leave the Eleventh to accomplish that.
Noticing the change in the pink-haired vagrant’s demeanor, Kenji laughed.
“So now that I’ve helped you, how about it? Will you finally go to one of my classes?” the instructor asked, already knowing the answer.
“I ready told you, if I didn’t go three years ago, you already know my stance on that now,” Ryoujin laughed, turning. Before he disappeared into a shunpo to leave the samurai to his meditation, he forcefully found it in himself to say, “Thanks.”