Shun
New Member
[11th] Week 316: Prophecy Unstuck in Time
[ 2034 ]
His avid imagination had led him to a wide variety of places before but never in his odd ninety-years of living had he come across something like this.
There was pizza. Pizza fuckin’ everywhere, with all sorts of toppings! Was this a dream? He hoped not. As he took his first joyous bite into the world’s largest pizza, time began to flow again, and with it, brought the reminder of just what exactly today’s duties consisted of.
Grasping hold of his scabbard, the pink-haired youth jumped off the rooftop that he had been dozing off on. Unsheathing his soul slayer, he twisted the zanpakutou in thin air like a key as the familiar threshold of the Senkaimon portal opened up before him. Before he could so much as find out what lay for him on the other side of the Dangai Tunnel, the Duelist felt a strong, cold breeze that made him shudder. Was it really that cold in the world of the living, or was this fear that was taking it’s hold?
It couldn’t have possibly been the latter. Of course, it was true that it had been a long time since he was asked to do any field work in the material realm or really any work for that matter, but that was only because he had preoccupied himself too long on his own personal training.
“This one’s a Menos that we’ve been having trouble getting rid of. It’s already taken out two soldiers that we sent out earlier. King of Soul Society forbid that we have any more of our men taken today,” the Hell Butterfly had said, when it had approached him not too long ago to relay the orders that it had been given.
As Arashi Ryoujin’s frame fully emerged on the other side of the portal, he was greeted with harsher conditions. Before he could even notice, the crimson scarf that was wrapped around his neck was blown away by the never-ending wind, reminding him that it was probably not in his best interest to stick around here for too long. He didn’t bother trying to reclaim the accessory, instead opting to try and fix his attention to his immediate surroundings.
I mean how hard is it to track- he pondered, his thought briefly interrupted by sneezing, -one of these big fuckers anyways?
Fortunately enough, although it was probably out of some dumb stroke of luck, the Menos didn’t waste any time in giving away its location. Looming overhead, it reared its gargantuan body around slowly, screeching incessantly in the hopes of attracting any other unfortunate soul reapers that might want to try their mettle against it. One would have thought two platters of shinigami would have been more than enough to quench its ravenous hunger, but it appeared that the creature wouldn’t suffice without more.
“Well, if it’s a snack you want, then be my guest,” the speedster said, quickly spurring into motion. As he disappeared into a shunpo to avoid the ethereal rays that shot out at him, he reappeared just in time to swing his sword downwards towards the ivory mask, attempting to find some purchase.
In moments, the accumulated experience that he had collected washed over him, slamming down in the form of a dismembered limb.
As the guttural cry of anguish reverberated through the air, he went in for another strike while the Menos was still charging up another one of its ceros. Before he could even so much as get close to the Menos this time though, his sword seemed to have accidentally clashed alongside another’s.
Peering across from him, his auburn eyes shot open in alarm as he took full notice of who or in this case what he had run into. There was no mistaking it.
A lupine mask behind a mysterious face. What looked to be an older version of the standard shihakushou. Long,wavy purple hair. This was none other than a Vizored.
As if that weren’t enough, the other man seemed to stand there, gawking at him.
“Ritoru...,” he said sharply, as if lost in some sort of reminiscence.
“Ritoru...?” Ryoujin asked incredulously, not out of unfamiliarity by the name but more so by the fact that he was alarmed that the vizard would mistake him for the long past Blitzkrieg Captain.
Before he could engage in any further sort of audible conservation with the former soul reaper, the cero shot forwards, giving him no time to react. At this range, he would be hit and perhaps burnt to a crisp. Using the only reflex he could possibly muster in those fleeting seconds, Ryoujin held his sword up instinctively to try and defend himself only to be launched back by the vizard who had appeared to have taken the brunt of the ray.
If the fact that the vizard had gone out of his way to try and save his skin wasn’t startling enough, what was more shocking was the way in which he had reacted so quickly. That sort of speed was not outlandish to Ryoujin, as Nana had so clearly shown, but only so few individuals could ever hope to reach that sort of proficiency in speed.
“Why do I even try?” the purple-haired speedster said, his mask showing signs of wear and tear, as a quarter of it seemed to chip away and crumble, revealing purple irises that seemed to remind him of the gaze that the Templar Queen held from fatigue at times back when she was his Captain.
As the Menos charged up another of its ceros, the vizard flared his teal reiatsu outwards. It was not a flashy display or a show of bravado. Rather, the very spiritons in the air seemed to halt for a moment, disrupting the natural balance. An air of fear. That was the best way to describe it, as the pink-haired Duelist could only look on amusingly at the display before him.
Whatever enchantment or ability had been cast had apparently done the trick. The Menos was unresponsive, rooted in place. It was afraid, if that was even possible for behemoths like it. As the tremendous pressure weighed down upon it, the Vizored passed right through the beast in a fluid motion, a movement of flash blossom that was all too familiar to the Eleventh’s very own speedster.
Just who was this guy anyways?
“...Huh? Looks like it’s my lucky day,” the purple-haired man said, laughing as he ignored the disintegrating fiend behind him. Instead, he diverted his attention towards Ryoujin. “I’ve been gone from Soul Society for so long now I’ve lost count, and in my all time, you’re only the second shinigami I’ve come across... let alone a pink-haired fella,” he said, gesturing with two fingers.
“And you’re the first Vizard I’ve seen in a while. Thought you lot were at least goners by now,” he replied, his fingers still wrapped around his zanpakutou as the other man still hadn’t relinquished his hold on his own weapon.
“You could say that. We’re not huge in numbers.. thanks in part to the Seireitei killing what’s left of us off and us having to do your jobs.”
“No one asked you to,” Ryoujin said bluntly.
“True. Fair enough.”
“That’s besides the point though. You called me Ritoru earlier? Was he your Captain or something?”
There was a sense of hesitancy to answer, but in the end, the vizard complied.
“Yeah, not for as long as I would have liked though. Haven’t heard from him since, and when I saw you, I thought you were Furousha, but now that I think about it, you’re a bit shorter than him. Are you by any chance his progeny?”
“Progeny!?” Ryoujin asked incredulously. He didn’t know who his parents were, but he was completely certain that he was not born in the Soul Society having died as a human, let alone the son of the former Blitzkrieg taichou. “Nah, I don’t think so bud. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Shame. Your movements were really similar to his, maybe even greater. Figured you were a member of the Blitzkrieg Strike force. If you’re not, then what squad are you?”
“The Eleventh.”
At this, the man’s demeanor seemed to change. It was not hostility in a sense, but an air of caution mixed with a small trace of interest and curiosity surfacing from beneath his split ivory mask.
“So you’re a Duelist, huh? I wonder who else from your division I’ll run into next.”
“Who else?” Ryoujin asked, puzzled.
“Yeah, didn’t you hear me? You’re the second shinigami I’ve had the (mis)fortune of running into. I ran into a white-haired boy a couple of months ago. Interesting character that one, surprised someone like him bears the mantle of his predecessors.”
Kyuketsu.
“...He’s doing well for himself I presume. How long is he gonna last though? Shit hasn’t quite hit the fan here lately, but if what I saw was a correct interpretation of what your Captain was, then the Gotei might have a problem within its own ranks.”
Ryoujin scoffed. Maybe it was true that his friend had grown far too distant and unpredictable as of late, and moreover, the brewing tension between them ever since he had been promoted to lead the Eleventh had grown considerably. The change in behavior had certainly warranted suspicion. The only shinigami that had been able to put up with his antics was now a shady character. Could he be untrustworthy though?
“So you’re suggesting treason? You think he’s gonna stab us in the back or something?” Ryoujin finally asked.
“No,” the purple-haired man replied, “Not that... though I wouldn’t be surprised. If you haven’t noticed, his greed knows no bounds. That man is power-hungry beyond compare, and that is not an exaggeration coming from someone who’s lived to see the spawning of the Zero Espada.”
For a few seconds, silence hung over the two before Ryoujin smirked impishly.
“Your assumptions aren’t totally wrong. He’s interesting, if he weren’t, I wouldn’t still be fighting under the Eleventh’s banner. I wouldn’t be surprised either if that bastard Kyuketsu does go apeshit on us in his quest for power. If it ever did come to that, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I would cut him down without a second thought.”
“But will you.. and could you? I’m standing here, an enemy of the state, and you still haven’t threatened to end my life, or even try and attack me. If you can’t do that, then how can you strike your own comrade?” he asked, eliciting an alarmed look from the Duelist albeit momentarily.
“What makes you so sure I wouldn’t be able to? You’re talking as if you’re asking for a death wish. The only reason I haven’t is because you helped me out back there. If you were a threat for even a fraction of a second, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”
“Again, I’m not entirely sure-”
Before he could finish, a voice resounded from out of nowhere. Upon closer inspection, the source of it was from the shinigami’s denreishinki.
“Ryoujin-san! I’ve been trying to reach you for a while now. We’ve got a batch of hollows near your current location that need to be taken care of!”
“Can’t this wait,” Ryoujin said, more than asked. “I’m kinda busy right now-”
“I’m sorry sir. You’re the only one that’s been closest to the area, we can’t just pardon-”
Vexed by the interruption, he ignored the informant.
“Sorry, back to-” he started, before pausing as he looked up to find that the Vizard was no longer there, the only traces were the afterimage of his sonido.
“On second thought damn it, never mind,â Ryoujin said, sighing unaware that the former death god had not gone off too far. More importantly though, something wasn’t right, and he couldn’t shake off the lingering statements. What was more than the image of the Vizard was the forewarning that he had given. Was it really possible for something like that to come to fruition, and if it ever did, would he prepared to...?
I sure as hell hope so, Shun-chan, a childish zanpakutou spirit thought, the mutual sentiment left unspoken but understood from afar.
There was pizza. Pizza fuckin’ everywhere, with all sorts of toppings! Was this a dream? He hoped not. As he took his first joyous bite into the world’s largest pizza, time began to flow again, and with it, brought the reminder of just what exactly today’s duties consisted of.
Grasping hold of his scabbard, the pink-haired youth jumped off the rooftop that he had been dozing off on. Unsheathing his soul slayer, he twisted the zanpakutou in thin air like a key as the familiar threshold of the Senkaimon portal opened up before him. Before he could so much as find out what lay for him on the other side of the Dangai Tunnel, the Duelist felt a strong, cold breeze that made him shudder. Was it really that cold in the world of the living, or was this fear that was taking it’s hold?
It couldn’t have possibly been the latter. Of course, it was true that it had been a long time since he was asked to do any field work in the material realm or really any work for that matter, but that was only because he had preoccupied himself too long on his own personal training.
“This one’s a Menos that we’ve been having trouble getting rid of. It’s already taken out two soldiers that we sent out earlier. King of Soul Society forbid that we have any more of our men taken today,” the Hell Butterfly had said, when it had approached him not too long ago to relay the orders that it had been given.
As Arashi Ryoujin’s frame fully emerged on the other side of the portal, he was greeted with harsher conditions. Before he could even notice, the crimson scarf that was wrapped around his neck was blown away by the never-ending wind, reminding him that it was probably not in his best interest to stick around here for too long. He didn’t bother trying to reclaim the accessory, instead opting to try and fix his attention to his immediate surroundings.
I mean how hard is it to track- he pondered, his thought briefly interrupted by sneezing, -one of these big fuckers anyways?
Fortunately enough, although it was probably out of some dumb stroke of luck, the Menos didn’t waste any time in giving away its location. Looming overhead, it reared its gargantuan body around slowly, screeching incessantly in the hopes of attracting any other unfortunate soul reapers that might want to try their mettle against it. One would have thought two platters of shinigami would have been more than enough to quench its ravenous hunger, but it appeared that the creature wouldn’t suffice without more.
“Well, if it’s a snack you want, then be my guest,” the speedster said, quickly spurring into motion. As he disappeared into a shunpo to avoid the ethereal rays that shot out at him, he reappeared just in time to swing his sword downwards towards the ivory mask, attempting to find some purchase.
In moments, the accumulated experience that he had collected washed over him, slamming down in the form of a dismembered limb.
As the guttural cry of anguish reverberated through the air, he went in for another strike while the Menos was still charging up another one of its ceros. Before he could even so much as get close to the Menos this time though, his sword seemed to have accidentally clashed alongside another’s.
Peering across from him, his auburn eyes shot open in alarm as he took full notice of who or in this case what he had run into. There was no mistaking it.
A lupine mask behind a mysterious face. What looked to be an older version of the standard shihakushou. Long,wavy purple hair. This was none other than a Vizored.
As if that weren’t enough, the other man seemed to stand there, gawking at him.
“Ritoru...,” he said sharply, as if lost in some sort of reminiscence.
“Ritoru...?” Ryoujin asked incredulously, not out of unfamiliarity by the name but more so by the fact that he was alarmed that the vizard would mistake him for the long past Blitzkrieg Captain.
Before he could engage in any further sort of audible conservation with the former soul reaper, the cero shot forwards, giving him no time to react. At this range, he would be hit and perhaps burnt to a crisp. Using the only reflex he could possibly muster in those fleeting seconds, Ryoujin held his sword up instinctively to try and defend himself only to be launched back by the vizard who had appeared to have taken the brunt of the ray.
If the fact that the vizard had gone out of his way to try and save his skin wasn’t startling enough, what was more shocking was the way in which he had reacted so quickly. That sort of speed was not outlandish to Ryoujin, as Nana had so clearly shown, but only so few individuals could ever hope to reach that sort of proficiency in speed.
“Why do I even try?” the purple-haired speedster said, his mask showing signs of wear and tear, as a quarter of it seemed to chip away and crumble, revealing purple irises that seemed to remind him of the gaze that the Templar Queen held from fatigue at times back when she was his Captain.
As the Menos charged up another of its ceros, the vizard flared his teal reiatsu outwards. It was not a flashy display or a show of bravado. Rather, the very spiritons in the air seemed to halt for a moment, disrupting the natural balance. An air of fear. That was the best way to describe it, as the pink-haired Duelist could only look on amusingly at the display before him.
Whatever enchantment or ability had been cast had apparently done the trick. The Menos was unresponsive, rooted in place. It was afraid, if that was even possible for behemoths like it. As the tremendous pressure weighed down upon it, the Vizored passed right through the beast in a fluid motion, a movement of flash blossom that was all too familiar to the Eleventh’s very own speedster.
Just who was this guy anyways?
“...Huh? Looks like it’s my lucky day,” the purple-haired man said, laughing as he ignored the disintegrating fiend behind him. Instead, he diverted his attention towards Ryoujin. “I’ve been gone from Soul Society for so long now I’ve lost count, and in my all time, you’re only the second shinigami I’ve come across... let alone a pink-haired fella,” he said, gesturing with two fingers.
“And you’re the first Vizard I’ve seen in a while. Thought you lot were at least goners by now,” he replied, his fingers still wrapped around his zanpakutou as the other man still hadn’t relinquished his hold on his own weapon.
“You could say that. We’re not huge in numbers.. thanks in part to the Seireitei killing what’s left of us off and us having to do your jobs.”
“No one asked you to,” Ryoujin said bluntly.
“True. Fair enough.”
“That’s besides the point though. You called me Ritoru earlier? Was he your Captain or something?”
There was a sense of hesitancy to answer, but in the end, the vizard complied.
“Yeah, not for as long as I would have liked though. Haven’t heard from him since, and when I saw you, I thought you were Furousha, but now that I think about it, you’re a bit shorter than him. Are you by any chance his progeny?”
“Progeny!?” Ryoujin asked incredulously. He didn’t know who his parents were, but he was completely certain that he was not born in the Soul Society having died as a human, let alone the son of the former Blitzkrieg taichou. “Nah, I don’t think so bud. Sorry to disappoint.”
“Shame. Your movements were really similar to his, maybe even greater. Figured you were a member of the Blitzkrieg Strike force. If you’re not, then what squad are you?”
“The Eleventh.”
At this, the man’s demeanor seemed to change. It was not hostility in a sense, but an air of caution mixed with a small trace of interest and curiosity surfacing from beneath his split ivory mask.
“So you’re a Duelist, huh? I wonder who else from your division I’ll run into next.”
“Who else?” Ryoujin asked, puzzled.
“Yeah, didn’t you hear me? You’re the second shinigami I’ve had the (mis)fortune of running into. I ran into a white-haired boy a couple of months ago. Interesting character that one, surprised someone like him bears the mantle of his predecessors.”
Kyuketsu.
“...He’s doing well for himself I presume. How long is he gonna last though? Shit hasn’t quite hit the fan here lately, but if what I saw was a correct interpretation of what your Captain was, then the Gotei might have a problem within its own ranks.”
Ryoujin scoffed. Maybe it was true that his friend had grown far too distant and unpredictable as of late, and moreover, the brewing tension between them ever since he had been promoted to lead the Eleventh had grown considerably. The change in behavior had certainly warranted suspicion. The only shinigami that had been able to put up with his antics was now a shady character. Could he be untrustworthy though?
“So you’re suggesting treason? You think he’s gonna stab us in the back or something?” Ryoujin finally asked.
“No,” the purple-haired man replied, “Not that... though I wouldn’t be surprised. If you haven’t noticed, his greed knows no bounds. That man is power-hungry beyond compare, and that is not an exaggeration coming from someone who’s lived to see the spawning of the Zero Espada.”
For a few seconds, silence hung over the two before Ryoujin smirked impishly.
“Your assumptions aren’t totally wrong. He’s interesting, if he weren’t, I wouldn’t still be fighting under the Eleventh’s banner. I wouldn’t be surprised either if that bastard Kyuketsu does go apeshit on us in his quest for power. If it ever did come to that, you’ve got nothing to worry about. I would cut him down without a second thought.”
“But will you.. and could you? I’m standing here, an enemy of the state, and you still haven’t threatened to end my life, or even try and attack me. If you can’t do that, then how can you strike your own comrade?” he asked, eliciting an alarmed look from the Duelist albeit momentarily.
“What makes you so sure I wouldn’t be able to? You’re talking as if you’re asking for a death wish. The only reason I haven’t is because you helped me out back there. If you were a threat for even a fraction of a second, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”
“Again, I’m not entirely sure-”
Before he could finish, a voice resounded from out of nowhere. Upon closer inspection, the source of it was from the shinigami’s denreishinki.
“Ryoujin-san! I’ve been trying to reach you for a while now. We’ve got a batch of hollows near your current location that need to be taken care of!”
“Can’t this wait,” Ryoujin said, more than asked. “I’m kinda busy right now-”
“I’m sorry sir. You’re the only one that’s been closest to the area, we can’t just pardon-”
Vexed by the interruption, he ignored the informant.
“Sorry, back to-” he started, before pausing as he looked up to find that the Vizard was no longer there, the only traces were the afterimage of his sonido.
“On second thought damn it, never mind,â Ryoujin said, sighing unaware that the former death god had not gone off too far. More importantly though, something wasn’t right, and he couldn’t shake off the lingering statements. What was more than the image of the Vizard was the forewarning that he had given. Was it really possible for something like that to come to fruition, and if it ever did, would he prepared to...?
I sure as hell hope so, Shun-chan, a childish zanpakutou spirit thought, the mutual sentiment left unspoken but understood from afar.
Last edited by a moderator: