[7th] Week 245: Bounty - Fragments of Failure

Cad · Oct 4, 2012

[7th] Week 245: Bounty - Fragments of Failure (Pt. I)

Bounty Information

This occurs just before PMs.

Some time ago...

A blank CRT monitor blinked with a single, white cursor at the top-left of the screen. It sat in one position, blinking patiently as it awaited for change.

Finally, some typing.

C:/trs.exe

Unknown drive.

Wait.

<backspace> <backspace> <backspace>

F:/trs.exe

< use feed//RANDD-PC

Unknown command.

Damn it.

F:/net users/global/use feed //RANDD-PC

Enter command:

Stupid.

< msf use exploit/multi/system _server_Titan
< password ******

<Enter>

Lines of code suddenly scrolled down the black screen. After a moment, the scrolling stopped and the screen went blank again. A small, gray window popped up with a simple message: Konpaku Inventory: 1

<Enter>

A larger window opened up and showed a single line of information: 0030010295A1. Beside the inventory item number was a red button.

Bingo.

100 wc bc made up computer jargon

total wc for grader: 7751

Cad · Oct 4, 2012

A few months later...

It was raining that night in Tokyo, but it was always raining in Tokyo, in some way or another. Civilizations throughout history have always harbored their own superstitions, faiths and behaviors, Tokyo being no different. It was clear, though, to the humans and the heavens, that there was something special about the bustling city - something that made the city the target for awe and terror alike. Within only a few years, the cosmopolitan landscape had been traversed and trespassed by the living and ‘un-living’ alike, leaving a wake of destruction. Never had a city seen such activity as Tokyo had, in such a short span of time.

It was always raining in Tokyo, but in this moment, it was heavy, wet rain.

The water splashed against neon signs that lined the narrow street, the fragments of the varied light lost to the darkness. Below one such light, a figure in a trench coat and brimmed cap stood, shoulders perched and hands clenching the collars tightly beneath a shaded face. The man, peeking out beneath the brim, turned to look through the dense downpour. He shuffled across the concrete square beneath his feet but moved about as if he couldn’t leave its’ borders. Minutes went by, seeming like hours to the anxious figure, as he waited in the neon glow amidst the rain.

Not too far away, a pair of sleek, black dress shoes splashed in the small stream of rapid rainwater. The steps were slow and strolling, carrying a very large, suited man along the sidewalk’s edge, seemingly unconcerned about being in the gutter of the street. The speeding water rushed against the heels of the man’s polished shoes, splashing up at the back of his leg and seeping into the bottom of a very fine pair of pleated pants. The man held his hands in his pockets, suit jacket absorbing the downpour of clear liquid. Turning a corner, the stranger’s eyes cascaded over the pacing man in a trench coat as he nervously slide his sleeve up, looking at his watch. The shaded figure approached, his heels clacking on the wet concrete before coming to a stop just inside the shadow of the nearest alleyway.

“Hmm?” the anxious man said, turning his sight to the shadows. “Wh-who’s there?”

“Do you have it?” The giant, shaded figure asked matter-of-factly.

The short man in the brimmed cap hesitated before reaching into the inner-breast pocket of his overcoat. Just before his hand slipped out, revealing what he had enclosed in his grasp, he stopped and stepped away from the shadowed man.

“How do I know you’re the contact guy?”

A black briefcase suddenly shifted into the pink lightfrom the sign above. A gloved hand supported it from below and two metallic clicks came from the other side. The ebony leather of the lid flew up quickly and the briefcase was turned around. Revealing stacks of neatly piled and even stacks of cash, the rain fell on the paper currency with muted taps. After only a few seconds, the case was jerked around and snapped closed again. The man in the fine suit stepped forward, only revealing his drenched torso and keeping his face hidden by the dark. The briefcase fell to his side and was then tossed out to the ground, just before the other man.

The other figure pulled his hand out, showing a small box. He rattled it as he outstretched his hand, “It’s in there...”

The stranger’s gloved hand moved out to meet the anxious man’s, as he passed off the box. Pulling it back, he lifted the lid briefly, looking down and then pushed the lid closed again. Turning away, the stranger stepped back and returned in the direction from which he came.

The nervous man in his trenchcoat leaned down and yanked the briefcase from the ground. He snapped to two locks open, hands shaking from the anticipation. Fumbling with the open case, his free hand shuffled over the money and picked up a few stacks, examining them in the rain. The stress and the strain that had led up to the moment was now well worth all of his efforts. Clumsily closing the lid, cas sticking out of the sides, the man tucked the briefcase under his arm and hurried in the other direction.

His feet hit the wet cement, slapping the concrete with the nervous excitement that was, at the same time, giving the man an upset stomach. Blinded by the rain and the rush of the moment, the covered man wouldn’t have noticed the streak of silver that crossed his path. The nearly invisible blow was glancing, but effective.

One moment, he was running and the next, he was falling face first, his body hitting the street with a deadened thud. The briefcase cracked under his weight, the lid being snapped slightly to the side and freed the loosened bills. As blood trickled out from beneath the prone body, it seeped into the rushing waters and carried with it the drowning money, down into the nearby storm drain.

It was always raining in Tokyo.

856/956

Cad · Oct 4, 2012

“...And then it was discovered the warehouse had been broken into. That’s where the ten come from. So...” the man paused, “are you up for it?”

Okamii Igasho sat in the interrogation room, one he had come to know well since coming to the Seventh, across the table from the bounty officer. The former assassin looked on, unimpressed (or unmotivated) and let out a sigh.

“Sure,” he said softly.

“Good,” the other man said. He signed a piece of paper and then slid it over to the brawny prisoner, pen atop the form. “Just sign and we’ll get you out there.”

Igasho picked up the pen and touched the tip to the paper.

“I’m curious, Igasho,” the officer said, halting the prisoner from signing, “why have you been so complacent?”

Igasho’s soft brown eyes looked up at the man across the table, his silent stare invoking more information.

“Everyone else here...they all eventually try to escape, fight us, fight each other...fight the system. But you haven’t. You’ve stayed in your cell, every day, save for the last bounties you have taken on. Don’t you feel frustrated on some level?”

“Why would you think that?” Igasho said, looking back down to his paper to sign it.

“Well,” the other man answered, as he reached over and took the paper and pen, “you were sentenced for doing exactly as you were supposed to...and you didn’t even do those things first-hand.” The man paused for a moment again, expecting to see the assassin react. After a moment of staring at unmoved eyes, he continued, “I would just think any less man would kill or maim out of anger alone - try to make the system pay. Now, I’m not saying I agree or disagree but...don’t you think you’d be better served back in the Twelfth?”

Igasho stood up, a light smile on his lips. Calmly, he answered, “It doesn’t matter what I think if I can’t do anything about it.”

“Maybe so...but remember, these missions come straight from the judges, themselves. I know that wouldn’t mean much to you before, but things are different now...I think they’re taking notice that it does no good to keep you in here. Our reports have shown you need no ‘rehabilitation’...hell, you’ve had the chance to escape and you haven’t taken it.”

Igasho, standing nearly a foot above the officer, nded.

“Ok,” the bounties officer said as he pulled the door open, “let’s see if we can’t make this your last.”

414/1370

Rob · Oct 6, 2012

[3rd/7th]

Sometimes You Really are Just Unlucky
First of Many a Gigai
2780 Words

Rob
Cad

It was a peaceful day, a normal day. At least, if those human television shows were anywhere near right. You could never really tell with those pesky, silly humans. They were squishy, even lovable at times, but oh man were they pesky. And silly, that too.

Actually, they were only silly. Not pesky. Just silly. And pesky, that too.

Maybe she just didn’t really like them because they were... how could she put it... strange? Different? An oddity? A miscalculation on his lordship’s part?

Oh, wait. That was she.

Or maybe she was a human, because she was kind of silly, was she not? Yes. Yes, she was.

Why? Because she was stood upon the tallest building she could find. She enjoyed heights more so than anything else. It gave her a sense of... well, standing above others. Feeling closer to this inanimate place in the sky. Somehow the sky reminded her of home.

Look down at her feet for a second her face took on a look of contemplation.

Strange.

She didn’t have a home.

Shrugging, she spread her arms out like wings.

“I’m on top of th-... OH SHIT!”

Balance lost, and down she went.

The senkaimon slowly closed behind the prisoner, the alabaster light disappearing from the bright, blue sky. Igasho hovered in the earthly air, looking down at his soul phone. A steady red light blinked on the screen, still a decent distance away from where he had been released from Soul Society.

Sinking down to a telephone pole below, the shinigami eagerly disappeared into a flash-step, treading rooftops and ledges alike, hoping to find the gigai and end this mission quickly.

Tip-tap.

Thud.

Tip-tap.

Thud.

Walking was hard. But... maybe that was because she was trying to walk on the side of the building she had just fallen off, instead of the sidewalk. For some reason gravity did not feel like being her little playmate today.

Tip-tap...

...

...

...

Thud!

Or, well... it was more of a ‘splat’ actually. Not that it mattered, because it was fun. Funny even. Wait, no, err... actually, yes. Maybe. No?

Okay.

Jumping up from her face-down position she hovered in the air for a moment before dusting herself off and walking off into the distance, arms swinging wildly and a massive grin on her face.

The beeping within Igasho’s kosode suddenly stopped, the soul phone no longer reading the energy traces. Coming to a halt mid-air, the shinigami pulled out the device and checked the screen again - sure enough, the map was clear of any readings other than his own.

Damn it, he thought as he tucked the phone away again.

Deciding to head in the same direction anyways, the former officer was hoping to find signs of something abnormal or out of the ordinary in the wake of the energy trail. Moving within the urban limits of the cityscape, Igasho gradually moved from lower rooftops to the peaks of various office buildings and skyscrapers. Coming to a rest atop the ledge of one such building, the Death God closed his eyes and focused on the energy around him, hoping to find something of a spiritual thread.

In the distance, hundreds of feet below him, Igasho sensed the presence of a small, quickly dissipating trail. To his surprise, though, it led straight down the side of a nearby building. Opening his eyes again, the reaper leapt to the office building and fell to the ground below, looking around. Several people stood, gathered in a circle, looking down at something unknown and spoke to each other with worry and shock.

“How did she survive?”

“What happened? Where did she go?”

“Was she pushed?”

“Call the police!”

Igasho passed through the confused crowd, looking at the concrete in the center of the huddle. A deep crater of broken sidewalk sat in between everyone, about the size of a human, but with no human in it. Immediately, the prisoner knew he was on the right path.

Darting past the humans, Igasho ran down the street, eager to find this first gigai.

Blissfully unaware of the chaos she caused, the young, blonde-haired girl continued strolling across the street like nothing was amiss, like what she’d been doing up to now was as normal as one, two, three.

Or, maybe... it wasn’t?

She didn’t really know, but that was probably because she was unaware of these small little dinks. As if she would ever want to worry about the pointless things in life. They were pointless for a reason, no?

That’s what she thought as well.

Right.

Or, maybe... left?

She wasn’t really aware, but that was probably because she didn’t know her lefts from rights. Her rights, from the wrongs.

Bottom line was: she was having fun, probably.

Sniff...sniff

A dark figure moved from behind a steel-framed office building. Large, black hands rested on dragging knuckles and supported the towering, massive arms of a demon. The ebony creature had the frame of a gigantic ape, its gorilla-like face masked by a plate of bone-like ebony, jagged at the edges.

Sniff.......sniiiifffff

The primate-like hollow had caught the scent of something....something small but snack worthy. The soul was different from regular humans, tantalizing to the eternally-hungry demon. The beast’s grotesque form dragged through the city streets, picking up speed as it came closer to the smell.

Turning onto the corner of the busy city block, the hollow showed a set of saw-like teeth, dripping with saliva. Only a few steps away, the blonde human strolled toward the gargantuan monster.

Except, she wasn’t.

With a deadpan on her face, a whistling sound coming from her lips she strolled backwards rather robotic-like, before swiftly turning around and dashing like a madman towards... Well, towards somewhere that wasn’t in the vicinity of that hollow.

Because hollows were bad.

Hollows ate little girls, and though she wasn’t little per se... she wasn’t exactly tall either. Or maybe hollows ate souls. What was it again? Souls? Or little girls? Perhaps she had been watching too many horror movies, perhaps she was simply confused and she was currently not running away...

Maybe she was eating a strawberry popsicle. Man. What she would do for a strawberry popsicle right now.

Damn hollows.

The behemoth let out a roar, deep and raspy, full of the fury of a wild beast that wasn’t happy. The bulky hollow started to run forward, knuckles pounding the brittle concrete below, smashing the sidewalk and street over which it ran. To the humans in the area, it seemed as if a small earthquake was starting to make itself known, concrete and black-top starting to crumble while the ground shook violently.

The creature let out another roar, hot, moist breath rushing against the girl’s back as it grew closer to the tiny snack.

Igasho didn’t have to use his soul-phone to tell there was a hollow in the area. The dark energy pulsed throughout the city block, clashing against the reaper’s senses. The black mound of hollow came bounding over the horizon, its sheer size intimidating enough. Reaching for his blade, the prisoner was met with forgotten frustration, as he realized he hadn’t been allowed his zanpakutou. Deciding to take on the beast hand-to-hand instead, the reaper ran forward.

As he moved across the trembling ground, a crowd of humans darted past, running into nearby buildings and through the streets. Coming closer to the hollow, he could see its attention was still on something other than himself. Stopping for a moment, Igasho looked around and noticed one figure, a petite female, moving a little more quickly than the others and, looking back up at the demon’s gaze, realized that was his target.

“Wait! Stop!” he called out to her. In that moment, though, the ape’s giant hand reached out and wrapped around the gigai.

A split-second later, the tortured soul was captivated by the mouth-watering energy he had almost overlooked in his lust for the meager snack.

Shinigamiiii, the dark voice bellowed out.

Igasho stopped in his tracks, turning to run towards the hand as it plucked the girl into the air and out of his reach. The monster’s free fist shot overhead, clenched in a ball and came crashing down where the soul stood. Jumping out of the way, the reaper rolled along the ground and started to come to his feet.

I’ll have you soon enough...the creature said as he turned to the side.

The unexpected speed of the hollow’s sonido carried him to the side of a building, hanging several stories above the ground and holding the girl tightly. The masked creature turned his attention away from the shinigami below and began his climb toward the top of the skyscraper.

In the meantime, what the hollow was holding in his hand was not, in fact, the gigai he was looking for. No, or... well, maybe it was. But it wasn’t the gigai the man thought he was looking for which had been captured by the beast and...

Confusing, right.

No, the blonde-haired girl had escaped. How? She didn’t know.

Actually, she did, but it was a secret.

“Zank yew!” she shouted in her best, or indeed: worst, English accent for no particular reason at all. Perhaps she was under the impression that she was being helped by an Englishman.

Oh, how she would’ve loved to be swept away by a... wait, that almost happened.

And that wasn’t fun.

The beast turned its large ivory face down to the ground, the smell of its original target trailing elsewhere. As the faux-soul bounced away, the ape looked over at the clenched fist, realizing the blonde human in hand had passed out and had the stench of a regular soul compared to the two others.

Bellowing with a fearsome roar, the primate-hollow threw the incapacitated woman threw the air, leaping from the building and shattering the frame and windows in its wake. The woman’s limp body fell to the earth, tumbling at least a hundred feet above the ground.

Igasho, having just come to his feet, looked at the falling woman, then over at the gigai as she ran and then the hollow that left a wake of destruction in its pursuit. Moving into a shunpo, bounding through the air, the shinigami sped across the earthen distance and intercepted the unconscious woman. Carrying both of their weight through his original path, the prisoner let out one hand and landed against the side of the building. Momentarily turning an eye back to the duo he needed to stop, Igasho dropped to the ground and laid the woman on the concrete, propped up against a doorway and away from harm.

Turning around, the Death God sped off to catch up with the hollow and gigai.

The demon, however, enraged and spurred on by the tormenting hunger was quickly on the fake soul’s tail. His ghostly shadow poured over her as he raised both fists in the air, mid-stride, and swung them down to smash the puny body.

Alas, it was not meant to be.

For the beast that was. For, with the speed of a thousand ridiculously photogenic athletics, the blue-eyed girl had turned tail and dashed from right under his behind without a tail back the other way.

This time she chose not to remain on the ground and, as she planted one foot firmly into the concrete wall of a skyscraper, jumped upwards with speed rivaled only by those who could out speed her.

Which, in hindsight, were probably quite a few people. Most of which she didn’t know, some of which she did know. All she really knew was... she wasn’t some television celebrity called The Stig.

Seriously, who was that guy?

The creature’s fists slammed into the bed of concrete-covered earth, shaking the ground, but as the girl darted between its arms and legs, his head followed. Down, down, down his white face went, bending through his arms just before he tried to reach through the ebony legs to grab the woman. Unconcerned with and unaware of the simple act of balancing, the hunger and rage-driven demon’s torso weight toppled the beast over, the gargantuan body flipping over and onto its back.

Igasho, appearing in the stirring air above, came crashing down on the massive, white mask. Both feet and an open palm landing squarely in the middle of the mask (which was large enough for him to be standing on), sent a sickening crack echoing through the bone-like face. The hollow let out a tormented cry of anguish and went to grab at the shinigami.

Bounding away, however, the burly warrior had turned his sights back to the gigai and followed in her steps, bouncing off the same point of the building and reaching out to grab hold of her wrist.

Which he actually managed to, for a second or so, before the blonde-haired mod soul plummeted down towards the ground again, yelling something akin to, “POWAH KICKU!” as she prepared one the biggest, and most awesome of heel drop kicks ever known to mankind.

Or indeed...

Modsoulkind. If that was even a word to begin with.

No?

Okay.

The giant hollow, however, had crawled to its feet (and knuckles) again and had turned its attention to the duo, falling through the air. Just as the beast looked up though, the girl’s foot crashed into the chalky mask, sending a series of cracks radiating further across the surface.

The demon let out a terrifying wail of agony and rage, his massive arms flailing about. Only a second later, the shinigami carried his free hand through a full-force strike, his fist slamming into the spot again. The final blow was enough to shatter the mask entirely, sending the behemoth into a tormented rage.

Massive, ebony hands lashed out at the pair as the hollow’s scream was drowned out by an uncontrolled swelling energy. Crimson light came from the ape’s mouth and a wild cero exploded in a violent final act of the demon’s life.

Igasho had wrapped an arm around the woman as the light grew within the mouth. Narrowly escaping the blast, the two vanished from sight and reappeared on a nearby rooftop. The chaos below and the scream from the cleansing faded quickly, dispersing into the next life just as the dark particles floated away. As they stared down at the dissipating hollow, the reaper’s free hand slid into his kosode and threaded through the red glove.

Pulling his hand back out, the burly warrior looked down at the girl. “Well, that was....fun.”

Despite the red glove covering his hand getting ready to remove the mod soul from the gigai, it would prove to be unnecessary this time around. The jerk from having her body flash stepped away from its original pose, toppled with the downward force of her heel drop kick had been too great of a toll on the gigai’s capacity.

Tink!

A soft, yellow glowing orb slowly cascaded across the ground before finally coming to a halt several meters away from the prisoner.

The blonde-haired gigai’s body went slump, and the city went quiet again.

Hearing no response other than the orb rolling across the roof, the reaper looked down to see the body, once again lifeless.

Somewhat pleasantly surprised to find he was talking to himself, the man simply said, "Oh."

______________

"Tell me again why he wasn't present?" Igasho's statement was spoken as a question, his tone little more than collected. "This was his patrol."

"That's not my area, Igasho, you know that," the officer's voice came from the other end of the call, back in Seireitei. "But rest assured it's being considered right now. As soon as the hollow's energy was traced, the Ninth was on it...you know as well as I do the Forty-Six were eventually made aware that he didn't respond."

The prisoner withheld any other feelings about the matter - at this point, they were unnecessary.

"Where does this one go? I don't have the coordinates for the storage house."

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"It's still being combed over for clues. For now you'll have to find somewhere safe to keep that gigai."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to hand it over, in case there was-"

"I don't make the rules," the officer interrupted. "Contact us once you've captured the next one." A click came from the other line, ending the connection.

Igasho closed the phone. Putting aside his feelings about the matter at hand, the shinigami threw the gigai over his shoulder and began his search for a safe storage spot for a lifeless body.

Cad · Oct 6, 2012

Hitting The Books
Gigai 2
wc 2106 cad/mits

Having found an abandoned warehouse where he could safely store the first gigai, Igasho followed the forwarded coordinates that had been sent to his phone. The location had recently popped up as an area of intrest due to the frequent energy readings. The short trip brought the prisoner to the campus of a local high school, abuzz with busy teenagers. Making his way inside, the reaper kept a leery eye.

Igasho moved through the school’s hallways, occasionally glancing back and forth between the students passing by and the screen on his phone. The energy reading had measured in small blips but had faded again, about half an hour before the burly warrior had arrived. As he strode past the double doors leading into a library, Igasho’s attention was grabbed by the beep on his phone. The signature was coming from only a few meters away, most likely from behind the doors where he stood.

Slipping effortlessly through the earthly material, Igasho moved into the silent chamber and looked around at the various faces. Most of the students had their noses buried in stacks of books or a single one, inches from their face. Studiously reading, scribbling notes and flipping pages, the teenagers made almost no noise at all in their solitude.

Igasho walked along each table’s edge, slowly watching to see if any of them would react to his presence - something the reaper had learned was a giveaway for these synthesized souls.

“Hey Takashi, hand me the biology book please.” a girl at a nearby table was whispering to someone surrounded by a pile of books.

This person however did not react instantly; instead, he ducked down deeper into the pile.

“Come on, I know you hate to study but please hand me that book.” she said again, this time a little more demanding.

The guy slowly pushed the book to her without saying anything, before hiding in the pile again.

The man named Takashi was nervous, very nervous. His friends may not have noticed the guy in strange clothes walking past the tables, coming nearer every second, but he was aware of him and he feared that man.

So far the man had not spotted him, but it was only a matter of time.

Beep ---- beep----beep

Something in that guys purse was beeping slowly, but steadily.

Beep---beep---beep---beep

The noise began to beep faster the closer that strange man came to him.

Beep--beep--beep--beep--beep

He did not want to get back into the facility he came from, he was happy with this body, finally enjoying a normal life.

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep-beep

The guy was slowly walking past him catching him any second now. Looking at the girl who was already fully absorbed in the book, he sighed. Bye, bye. It was fun being around you.

Jumping over the table in her direction all of a sudden, startling her, he grabbed the table by the side, flipping it with inhuman strength at the guy, before vanishing between two giant bookshelves. He planned to head out of a nearby window, to get away from this person.

The table slammed against Igasho’s raised elbow, as he slightly ducked down, bracing for the impact. The desk cracked and fell to the ground as the former assassin caught sight of the frantic student’s backside. Clearly the anxious soul within the gigai, the young man disappeared amongst the large wooden shelves, headed for the simple pane window.

Moving with a flash step, the brawny man threw his shoulder into the massive bookshelf, toppling it onto the youthful spirit before it could make it to the window.
With a loud crack, the bookshelf began to fall in his direction.

When he started his run, his schoolmates looked at him with surprise. It was new for them to see a student jumping over the table and flipping it with ease, like if it was only a piece of paper and to top this he did it in the library, a usual silent room.

With the bookshelf falling, the panic suddenly gained the upper hand causing the students to run around like screaming lemmings, but who could blame them for it? With the table crashing in the air, and the bookshelf falling over on its own, something was not right and Takashi was the only person who could see the reason for it.

He managed to slip through one of the gaps the books usually were in, pushing them out with his hands. While it collided with the second bookshelf, causing it to slowly start falling too, Takashi grabbed some of the books flying through the air, and threw them at the mysterious person before turning around once more. Only a few more meters until he would reach the window.

Igasho moved back to his feet, watching as the youth frantically threw books in his direction, each hardback passing through his ethereal body. The prisoner caught sight of the boy’s face, instantly recognizing him as Mitsuhito, from the Twelfth Division. The realization and time to process the information gave the gigai enough time to crash through the school window.

The librarian let out a shrieking gasp from behind her enclosed counter and several students let out yelps of surprise and fear. Causing a small panic within the library, the commotion stirred the students to scatter, some rushing to the window to see where the boy was going.

Igasho sped through the library wall, out into the small courtyard that rested between buildings. His bare feet carried him within inches of the hurried gigai and the shinigami threw out his hand, aiming to grab hold of the imposter’s shirt.

The guy in black was faster than he had hoped. Shortly after Takashi had landed, he already was behind him again. Takashi was forcefully grabbed by his shirt and thus stopped from running away. For bystanders, it looked like he ran into an invisible wall, but for him it was sheer horror.

Starting to run again, he managed to slip out of his shirt and shortly afterwards ran away again, now topless.
A pair of students looked on in awe as the erratic teen ran through the courtyard, suddenly stopped and somehow ‘dropped’ out of his shirt, which was now mysteriously floating in the air. Their eyes widened as they gawked, Igasho realizing what they were staring at. He dropped the shirt and gave chase again to the topless gigai, which was clearly not ready to leave the stolen body.

Moving into a flash step, the quick shinigami cut off his target, a hand stretched out, and clotheslined the boy. His feet flying out from beneath him, the frantic soul landed on the ground with a thud.

Reaching into his kosode for his glove, Igasho looked on at the gigai with an expression of agitation.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself,” he said softly, pulling the glove over his hand. The finality of his voice signaled his hand reaching down to take the candy from the body.

After spinning around through the air, his head felt a little dizzy, but there was not time to feel like that, he had to move away or this guy would do who knows what.

Grabbing sand with his left hand, he threw it in the face of his attacker, causing the hand with the glove to miss him by just a few inches. He did not know if the sand actually came in contact with his attackers eyes, or if it just clouded his view, fact was that he was still there. Using this chance, he rolled to the side and jumped up high in the sky. His cover may have blown up now, with his classmates now knowing that he was not real – who else could jump this high – but better this than dead. I will miss you, friends.

With this high jump, he began to feel more and more alive again, while something inside of him began to show his true face.

“Of course I enjoyed myself, and I don’t plan on leaving just yet!”

Frustration came to the forefront of Igasho’s thoughts, the dust, although passing through harmlessly, clouded his sight and caused him to lose his grip on the boy. Coming to his feet , the assassin moved away from the small cloud of dust and watched as the gigai bounced through the air.

While the students looked on in shock at the high-bounding, shirtless body, Igasho lept through the air as well. Stretching out his foot, the former assassin kicked the gigai in its lower back, apparently much harder than anticipated. The young man rocketed off of the impact, flying further into the distance and disappearing in the treeline.

Damn it.

He had hoped to get away from this scary person in black, but luck was not on his side. All of a sudden, his enemy was behind him and kicked him into a nearby bunch of trees. Crashing through the treetops, he tried to catch one of the fast passing branches to stop his fall, but instead of being stopped, he just tore the branch out of the tree.

Once more, his back hit the floor pretty hard and pain ran to his body. A normal human probably would have broken all of his bones by now, but this artificial body was built for battle encounters. Standing up again, he felt blood running down his left arm. After he made sure that the wound only was a big scratch – but nothing life threatening – he tried to staunch the flow of blood. Looking into the air, he saw with relief that the strange guy was nowhere to be seen. To get away from him, those scratches on my back are a small price to pay.

Turning around, Takashi began to sprint away from the school, trying to make his way into a nearby pedestrian area. Na na na na na na, you can’t catch me.

What he did not notice was the blood dripping down again, leaving a trail behind.

Igasho moved into a shunpo, his feet carrying him at lightning speed toward the woods behind the school. Darting through the thick treeline, the reaper’s soft brown eyes scanned the woods for the young man. He could hear hurried footsteps in the distance, racing to get away, but Igasho was close behind.

Moving forward, a trail of broken branches and leaves were scarred with streaks of blood, only ensuring that the prisoner find his target. Speeding through the woods, Igasho quickly caught up to the wounded gigai and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck.

“Not so fast,” he said with a tone of agitation.

Pushing the body up to the trunk of a tree and turning it around, Igasho pinned the young man back.
Bringing his gloved hand up, ready to push forward, the reaper asked, “Anything you want to say before this is over?”

With his freedom within reach, his heart began to beat like crazy. He could do it, he could keep on running away.

But his hope got destroyed. The man in black managed to catch up on him quickly and before he knew what was happening, he was grabbed at the neck.

Pinned against the trunk, he tried to kick or punch his attacker in the face or guts, but his body was too weak to do serious damage. He tried to relax and wiggle out of the grip, but the grip was too strong. He even tried to brace his feet against the enemy, but there just was no escape.

However, even in his last moments of live, his true nature managed to break through, choosing his last words.

“Yes I have.

“Look behind you! A three-headed monkey!”

A genuine grin appeared on the prisoner’s face as the faux-soul writhed and made a coy attempt at distracting the shinigami.

“Nice try,” Igasho said cooly. “You’ve had enough fun, though.” The reaper looked around to see if anyone was coming to check out all the commotion but it seemed that the students had no interest in following the chaos into the woods. Looking back at the young assassin’s gigai he bade farewell, “Thanks for the work out.”

The reaper’s glove moved forward, reaching through the gigai’s frame, and clasped around the simple ball. Pulling it out, the body went limp and fell to the leaf-covered floor and the prisoner tucked the candy away within his kosode. After removing his glove, Igasho knelt down and pulled the body over his shoulder. Coming to his feet, the reaper disappeared in a flash step and headed back to the warehouse.

Chef Bryardee · Oct 6, 2012

Faux Pas
2,607

Cad | Ketch

Igasho landed atop the apex of the glass panels that formed a dome over the mall’s food court. Looking down below, the hive of humans buzzed with activity. Pulling out his soul phone again, the former assassin watched as a red dot blipped across the screen, moving across both coordinates of the X and Y axis that showed his own location. The only problem with the soul phone was that it wasn’t able to discern which one of the 200 humans below was giving off the intermittent energy pulse. Igasho closed the phone again, tucking it away in his kosode, and let himself fall through the glass ceiling.

Coming to rest in the midst of the bustling mall floor, the stoic looked around, trying to catch sight of anything unusual. Amongst the hungry humans, laughing teenagers and raucous children, the chaos of the room was hard to keep under a scrutinous eye, even for the collected former officer. He moved through the crowd, scanning each face that passed by, keeping a watch for familiar faces or features. Coming to the landing of a pair of escalators, Igasho stepped on and let himself get carried up toward the next floor. Beginning to see a bird’s eye view again, the calculating reaper had a simple but possibly-effective idea.

Steadying his gaze, the burly man took a deep breath and let his baritone voice blanket the floor below, “Hey!”

The holler reached every ear moving back and forth down either side of the long marble-esque facade strip that crossed the breadth of the shopping center---nearly every ear, to be precise. Some women and the children in their grasps shrieked and swiveled toward the origin of the vociferation while others continued on, not giving Igasho’s attempt more than a loosely-investigative shift of their eyes or head.

One of the latter, a tall and well-built raven-haired man, paid the shout no mind.

Leaning with exaggerated coolness on a square granite pillar buttressing the walkway of the upper level, the man turned his head back to the woman in front of him. His hair was lit with white light reflecting off of the gel saturating his scalp, the tapered bangs between his eyes sharp and bright. Adding further---and undeniably tastelessly---to his “loud” outfit were a pair of skin-tight red jeans and a black shirt with black crosshatches throughout. Both sleeves were rolled up to mid-shoulder, leaving his cut biceps exposed purposefully. The outer rims of both of his ears were pierced at several points, silver and gold rings and pendants perforating both sides. His left wrist was equally-grandiose, a thick Rolex watch glimmering with the same diamonds as the bulky rectangular belt buckle around his waist. The shoes on his feet were black and white, immaculately kept and highly-expensive.

Not a dime was paid for any of it yet the perpetrator set a self-absorbed and sly smile on the young woman all the same.

“So, uh,” the man said, pausing to lick his lips alluringly. The girl’s uncomfortability was almost palpable. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

“...Why?” she asked flatly, slowly but surely leaning her head away from the faux-Manzou.

“Because I wanna know your name.”

“...Why?” she repeated, her tone unchanging---and uninviting.

“Why not?”

“But... why?”

“Why not?”

“You ever walked on a cloud, beautiful?” the man kept at it, completely undeterred. “Huh?”

“Uh... n-no.”

A cocky and low laugh came. “I could take you...” One hand came up between them, the index finger pointed skyward. “...up there.” His chin raised boldly, both onyx eyes looking down on her closely. “...You must not be in the... mile high club then, huh?”

The girl said nothing as her face melted into a befuddled expression. The man sat there with his gaze still softened welcomingly and his smile still stretched across his veil---completely oblivious to how far he was from his goal.

In a split second, the girl’s perturbed and befuddled expression exploded, uncontrolled and remorseless laughter bellowing from her lips. After a moment, the man’s ever-confident expression finally came crumbling down, replaced by barely-controlled ire.

“...THE FUCK’S SO FUNNY, BITCH?!” the man shouted, his voice unintentionally cracking and increasingly its feminine-like pitch tenfold. Any and everything about him that exuding ‘manliness’ evaporated in an instant. The alpha male became---anything but that. His fists balled up tightly and his shoulder shrunk, compounding his fragile temperament. “HUH?!”

The girl kept on laughing.

Igasho’s attempt at grabbing the gigai’s attention wasn’t as fruitful as hoped but, within only a few moments, something grabbed the prisoner’s ear. Spinning around to catch sight of the calamity, the reaper found a girl in the distance laughing at a very frustrated man. The flustered male was red with ire and embarrassment, seemingly unsure how to handle himself. Already the prisoner could tell that any Gigai that could ignore his commanding voice might be ready to contain himself around a shinigami, perhaps not prone to acting as wild as the others had.

Approaching this pair, however, the former assassin had the inclination to think, if this was a mod-soul, the frustration he was having might be the chink in the armor needed for him to reveal himself. Walking slowly, the brawny warrior came closer and closer to the couple.

The laughter continued with a single sign of ceasing anytime soon. The faux-Manzou was literally red with anger, his skin still far from the bright roseate hue of his designer jeans though.

“You have no game!” the girl cackled, her unbridled laughter attracting attention from all sides. “What the hell!? The mile-high club?! Rea---!?”

“WHATEVER!” the man shouted, throwing his hands up and walking away at the same time.

As soon as his eyes opened, both onyx irises landed haphazardly on the shihakushou-sporting and statuesque figure standing out rather blatantly from the rest of the center’s denizens. His forward foot planted and stayed where it was, the other coming up beside it and freezing just the same. Both hands remained over his head as the mod soul stared blankly at the assassin in the all-too familiar black robes. Several anonymous passersby filled in the breadth between them, breaking the lock that Igasho had on his gaze in sporadic instances. Another person passed and the mod diverted his eyes.

Shit...! Shit! Shit! Shit!

His eyes raced back and forth in desperate thought, never meeting the orbs of the shinigami again. What could he do? Had he been spotted already or was he still searching? Should he run? No. He’d definitely be spotted---or would he? The shinigami wouldn’t just assume he was running from him, would he? Yeah, he would.

Swiveling on his heels, the disguised mod soul began pacing forward as casually as he could, not walking any faster or slower than those around him. A nervous twitch, his thumb was inserted between his teeth as they chewed down on them bit by bit while he thought. The anxiety being found sent a chill down his spine, making his posture all the more awkward.

Bingo.

Igasho kept his sights on the young man, moving forward to keep pace with his steps. There was a chance that his strange behavior was just his quirky nature, egged on by the embarrassment of being rejected by the girl...but the reaper’s gut told him that wasn’t the case.

Moving a little quicker, the reaper caught up to the young man and now walked along side of him, only a few inches away. As they strolled through the busy mall, several unaware humans passed through him when, instead, they should have collided into his large frame. Looking over at the young man, Igasho gave the suspect a coy grin.

“AH!” the mod shouted in fear as the looming shadow of the tall psychopomp swept over him.

Everyone that passed beside the faux-Sixth Seat reacted similarly, cringing and screaming, looking on with tense anxiety at the man looking on at something none of them were able to lay their eyes on. The man stood there with his knees clicking together and his heels up and darting outward, both hands underneath his chin and his shoulders shrunken feebly---the brawny-bodied man shook tremorously like a frightened five-year old.

Looking on and not speaking for a moment, something overcame the mod. What little solidity he had evaporated, his fear and nervousness swirling and cutting abrasively against his psyche and common sense. Both eyes spun wildly, unnaturally in their sockets. The slight shiver of his body became an exaggerated both-and-forth whipping motion, his lower limbs rattling awkwardly like fresh taffy. The humans had, by this point, distanced themselves in a large circle around the mod, staring on with uneasy anticipation as if staring down the dial of a ticking time bomb.

A moment later, a terrifying and booming holler exploded from his lips.

All limbs flailed out to their extents---his burly left arm swing like an axe toward Igasho.

Igasho moved his head slightly, cautious to not let the boy land the strike. Although the humans couldn’t see or touch the shinigami, the reishi-rich gigai was a different story. The wild swing missed its mark, giving the gathered humans a crazy show, the man in the middle spinning on his heels for no apparent reason.

The prisoner circled around his target, watching him as he came to a dizzying halt.

“You don’t want to do that again...believe me.”

The shinigami stopped, looking on at the young man expectantly for a response.

The chill in the reaper’s voice gripped him, sending a jolt through every nerve ending in his body. He wasn’t the average, inexperienced officer. It’d be nearly impossible for him to get away, impossible to kill him much less.

“GET AWAY---!” the imposter hollered out, his lips quivering and his eyes rolling like cyclones. “GET AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE! GO BACK TO THE SOUL SOCIETY!”

Backing away in cautious and sloppy steps, his head shifting back and forth in search for an exit or a diversion. His vision swept across the crowd---settling coincidentally on the young girl he’d failed to seduce a moment ago.

Could he do it? Was he quick enough? Was the shinigami that quick?

“Fuck it...!” the mod griped before lunging out toward the girl, attempting to take her hostage. Running along the edge of the crowd as fast as he could, he reached out at those fragile enough to be thrown behind him, hoping they would prove an effective smokescreen for him to get to the girl.

She shrieked, too scared to actually get away---not fast enough regardless.

Igasho disappeared in a flash step, but he didn’t reappear.

The amassed crowd let out a number of gasps and stunted shrieks as the young man grabbed a hold of the girl, clearly keeping her hostage - but against who or what, the people didn’t know.

“Freeze!”

A man’s voice came from the gigai’s left. The panicked soul didn’t notice the security guards that had their attention drawn from the food court below. The man to the left held an empty hand, gesturing him to stop, while the other rested somewhere on his belt.

“Freeze where you are and let the girl go!” one demanded. It was unclear what the rent-a-cop’s hand rested on but the threat was there.

“GET THE FUCK BACK!” the man roared, gaining the bass to his voice he’d lost, ridding himself of the fragile persona that had landed him in this very situation. “I’LL KILL THIS HEARTLESS LITTLE BITCH IF YOU DON’T STAY BACK!”

The mod snapped toward the security guard, jerking the petrified girl around like a shield in front of him. With one hand, the cornered man restrained her arm behind her back and held his free hand straightened at her throat, his fingertips threatening to pierce her flesh should anyone come nearer. The faux-Manzou’s eyes whipped around wildly at every one staring at him, scanning any and all in the crowd with frantic caution for any sign of Igasho.

Where is he!? Where is he!? ...Shit!

Looking over his shoulder, his eyes zoomed in on one of the main exits to the mall. It was well over a hundred feet away. It’d be a stretch to even try, even more so to actually make it.

Fuck...! ...Fuck it!

Turning back to the crowd and sweeping it once more for the shinigami, the mod made his gamble. Both hands clamped around the girl’s waist tightly before the imposter bent his knees and bounded over one half of the surrounding crowd.

Again and again, crossing several meters with each leap, he bolted for the exit, everyone in his path moving frightenedly out of his way and heralding his escape.

Suddenly, Igasho reappeared before the exiting imposter. Only a few meters away and blocking the exit, the assassin stood boldly at guard in front of the glass doors. The screams in the background were nearly drowned out by the surprise of the former assassin’s manifestation, startling the fake Manzou.

“Nope,” the former officer said simply, denying the target of hope for escape.

The impostor shrieked and jerked backward but the girl in his grasp, having finally shed the chill of fright and regained a bit of control over her limbs, pulled forward and attempted to free herself, both eyes locked on and yearning for the exit doors only meters away.

The brief stunt in his movement allowed for an opening for a guard on the bottom floor. A small pop was heard and a high pitch beep immediately followed. The tazer’s metal prongs bolted out from the hand-held device and burrowed into the lower back of the kidnapper. The whining hum of electricity shot through the attached cables and into the the gigai.

His body stiffened up and spasmed gracelessly, the look on his face gaping and no less morbid. The young girl, having escaped captivity before the taser found its target, looked on at him as she backed away, tears cascading down her cheeks.

The man’s body continued to jerk fitfully as he lost his balance completely and fell like an oakwood to the floor face first. As soon as his chest slapped against the granite floor, a small green pill was propelled from his lips and tumbled just in front of Igasho.

The inanimate husk of flesh, still crackling with electricity, stopped moving and lost all signs of life as both eyes were glaciated all the way open.

“Hm,” the reaper said with a look of surprise in his eyes, “that was easy.”

He moved over the grounded body, leaning over to take hold of the konpaku and tuck it away in his kosode. People rushed over, checking on the panicked girl, in shock of the hostage situation and the fallen man, who wasn’t moving. The guard that shot the taser now knelt beside Manzou’s gigai, feeling for a pulse. The resulting void of life caused the man to call for a medic, which came rushing through the doors only a few moment’s later. Igasho watched as they hooked up the body to various devices and carried it off to an ambulance waiting outside. The reaper followed the humans outside and hitched a ride on the speeding ambulance’s roof.

Some time passed at the hospital while the former assassin waited for the doctors to declare the unidentified man as deceased and have his body moved to the morgue in the basement. Once the door had shut and the room was finally empty, Igasho was able to take possession of the stolen gigai and make his exit, ensuring that no one would see anything until they came back to find an empty drawer.

Doc · Oct 6, 2012

Right Angle, Wrong Vertex

CAD : Okamii Igasho
Doc : Escaped Gigai

Igasho flipped open his soul phone, checking the radar again. Only moments ago, there had been a signature, coming from the high school again, but it had disappeared. Damn it, he thought, furrowing his brow. Punching the number pad on the phone, the reaper put the piece to his ear and waited for a response.

“Yes?”

“Okamii Igasho, Seventh Division. I need to be connected to the bounties office of the Seventh Division.”

“One moment.” The voice was cold and systematic. A static clicking followed for a few seconds before another voice picked up.

“Hello?”

“It’s Igasho...have you gotten a list of the stolen inventory?”

“Um...not yet. The place was pretty much a wreck when it was discovered.” Having developed a pretty good reputation with the bounties officer, Igasho and the officer had come to understand each other and speak as if equals (mostly). “They’re still trying to get it in order...so far, we’ve only got a number - ten - but you know that already.”

“Less than ten,” Igasho interjected, “at least it will be when you can tell me where the warehouse is, so I can get rid of those I’ve already found. Even if you can’t tell me who I’m looking for, it would be much easier if I knew who I wasn’t looking for.”

“I’ve already told you, Igasho, you’ll get that information later.” The officer’s voice suddenly shifted with the direction of his next sentence. “You’ve made some good headway in a short amount of time...The gigai you have are fine where they are as long as there are no other soul candies out there.”

Igasho buried the frustration with his tone, “Understood.”

The prisoner closed the phone and decided to check out the building again. Having been here only the day before, the reaper navigated the campus fairly easily and headed back to the room where he found the first gigai. Coming down the hallway, the soul reaper eased his steps, taking his time and trying to feel out the earthly air for anything unusual. Although the phone might not be able to pick it up, the well-trained practitioner could hone in on the slightest variations of reishi.

Still feeling nothing out of the ordinary, Igasho came to a stop just before the glass door and looked in on the students paying attention (or pretending to do so) to a lecture.
Igasho moved through the door and into the quiet room. His presence would go unnoticed, unless another spiritually-attuned human, or gigai, was in the room.

“Now, what kind of struggle is Eliezar having now?” The woman’s voice asked, as she turned around to face the class.

Igasho walked up and down the aisles, slowly looking at each student, as they were unknowingly observed and called on to ask the not-so-rhetorical question.

“C’mon now, you guys read this, right? What’s Eliezar facing now?”

“Well,” one boy said, “I guess he’s mad ‘cause he’s been tortured.” The tone of his voice was more like a question than that of a statement.

“Well, yes, but he’s been going through that now for almost four chapters.” The teacher moved from behind her desk, moved to the front, and seated herself against the front ledge. “What has changed in this chapter, though?” she asked, folding her arms. “What’s he facing now that he hasn’t before?”

“A crisis,” a girl’s voice came from the back.

Igasho turned and looked at the girl. From his position in the room, it looked as if she was staring straight at him.

“...A crisis of faith,” she finished.

Igasho moved closer to her.

“Exactly! Keep going, Jess,” the teacher said.

“He’s having a hard time staying devoted...his God is supposed to be a benevolent, caring God, but he’s doing nothing to stop all the horrible things that are going on around him.”

The assassin now stood right next to the girl, her eyes unmoved from the teacher.

“He’s having a hard time convincing himself that there is anything after this life...or as if God didn’t care.”

Igasho’s eyes moved around the room, still taking in what the girl said. He decided there was nothing in here that he needed to be concerned about so, as the discussion went on, he stepped through the door again and out into the hall. The former assassin walked along the wall and came to another door with a single, vertical glass pane. Looking in, he scanned the room and neither saw nor felt anything suspicious. Just as he started to turn away from the view of the room, something caught his eye.

The man standing before the classroom, sleeves rolled up and pointing to something scribbled on the chalk board - it was him.

Igasho was looking at himself.

It had been a tedious ninety seconds, but he’d finally managed to depict with chalk what the students couldn’t seem to understand through speech. A set of shapes had all been drawn onto the board, but most of the shapes featured vertices that overlapped and connected at points that seemed impossible.

“Now listen,” the frantically stressed teacher snapped, “this isn’t even advanced. It’s just basic non-euclidean geometry. Can you kids get your heads around that?” A quiet murmur moved through the room, though nothing came up that gave him any hope. Just as he was ready to give up, something caught his attention.

At first the little signal was easy to ignore, but it quickly got closer and before he could get ahold of himself he’d already seen it. The very face that he’d been looking into for just over a week or so had appeared. He knew those robes, and he knew what it meant, and he also knew that nobody else could see him. After clearing his throat slightly, he made an attempt to gather his wits without anybody noticing that he’d lost them.

Much to his chagrin, the period bell went off and his classroom soon became devoid of all students. All that remained was the shinigami, his apparent doppelganger and a chalkboard covered in the scribblings of an angry mathematician.

Igasho moved through the unaware humans, his sight set on the clone before him. The realization that he hadn’t been told about his own Gigai being stolen staggered his most immediate thoughts to pull out his glove. Leaping forward and throwing his open palm out, Igasho slammed his hand into his fake body’s face, knocking him back against the dusty chalkboard.

Immediately seeing that the candy wasn’t dislodged, the former assassin realized he didn’t have on the Gokontekkou. Quickly reaching into his kosode, the prisoner reached for his glove, trying to slide his fingers through before the gigai could react.

That he’d been overpowered by the reaper was unquestionable, but he’d known that it would come down to violence as soon as he’d spotted the death god. As his body slammed against the board, he felt it rumbled for just a moment and focused his mind on imagining the object as it hung on its mounted nails. Completing the equation in his mind was simple. Force and torque was easy to apply, and the initial bump had done three-fourths of the work for him.

On the opposite edge sat a pair of chalkboard erasers, each freshly dusted with the chalk he’d removed after failing to explain the shape of a quadrilateral. Quick-thinking and a desperate pound of both his elbows against the ledge did the trick. The board snapped from its mounts and fell down at his side, slamming against the ground with enough force to send the erasers flying toward him. Calculating their trajectory had taken him ten seconds, and he’d considered it before even lifting his arms.

Wildly, he waved his left arm and grabbed at the flying erasers. Whether he grabbed one or bother didn’t matter, the outcome would be the same: he’d do his best to slam the eraser on the shinigami’s eyes in an attempt to blind him. Whether it would work, or for how long it would work, or if he could even escape in time were all variables he couldn’t possibly calculate in such a short timespan.

The dust-filled erasers hit their mark, filling Igasho’s sight with a white cloud. He had tried to turn but it wasn’t quick enough to keep him from being blinded by the chalk dust. Turning his head away, the reaper quickly wiped his face in the elbow of his sleeve, while at the same time, reaching out to try and grab hold of the doppelganger.

Further calculation would have to wait. The hand that reached to grab him caught hold of him by his collar, and he wasn’t as attached to the shirt as he was the body beneath it. In the midst of his chalky distraction, he tore himself away from the convict’s hand, causing his shirt to rip away.

Without so much as a second thought, he continued the motion and made a mad dash towards the window. As he dove through the glass and careened through the air, he thought carefully about his trajectory and the distance he’d be able to create between himself and his pursuer. Speed alone wasn’t enough. What he needed was a set of figures in the same set he was, and in his immediate range. The running track was just ahead, and a physical education class had commenced in the past few minutes.

Thanks to the small bit of energy he gained upon taking control of the gigai, he managed to land without shattering any bones. Not for a second did he hesitate to join the running students, even in spite of being shirtless. As soon as the opportunity arose he’d break away and look to escape the school grounds, but that would have to wait. Even his legs weren’t that fast.

Igasho waved his hand to clear the cloud of white dust, seeing the vague image of his shirtless self jump through the window. Following him to the shattered window, Igasho watched as the imposter landed safely on the ground below, somewhat surprising the assassin. Although the other gigai’s were clearly more capable than the average human, landing unharmed several stories below was unexpected.

“Hmm,” the reaper mumbled, impressed by the quick recovery.

You don’t need us, do you, Shinigami?

The spirit’s voice was quiet but arrogant, much like the spokesman’s usual attitude.

Of course not, Igasho retorted.

Leaping out the window, the former assassin moved into a flash step, appearing around the corner and on the sports field. Seeing his clone dashing between bewildered students, the burly warrior sped up to the group, pulling the glove from his kosode and jamming his hand into it. Now running parallel to the elusive gigai, Igasho lept to his side, arm outstretched to grab a hold of the topless man.

As he’d expected he couldn’t possibly compete with the reaper’s speed, and again he found himself in danger of being captured. However cornered he appeared to be, his hand reached out to the nearest student just as the criminal’s hand clutched his shoulder.

WIth all his strength, he flung the objecting pupil right at the reaper and attempted to tear himself free at the same time. If he succeeded, he’d move out of the crowd and gather as much energy as he could to produce one last supernatural feat.

Trying to take hold of the physical body, Igasho didn’t have enough time to let the student’s body pass through and grab the gigai at the same time. Instead, the reaper’s free hand passed through the gigai and the bewildered track runner moved through the prisoner.

Igasho reached out again once the boy had moved out of they way but his clone was already out of arm’s reach.

Gathering up the spiritons was difficult and painful. As much as he knew about the way in which they’d interact with the gigai he was in and by extension the world around him, applying that knowledge and those calculations to reality was easier to write out than it was to execute. However, worrying about it did him no good.

As soon as he’d cleared what he considered to be a moderate distance and had come within an acceptable range of his target, he slid to a stop and bent his knees. All the energy he’d built up collected in the soles of his feet, and it was immediately expended as he vaulted from the ground into as high an arc as he could. It had been a hasty estimation, but he’d assumed that he’d have enough energy to push himself from the ground to the roof of the building.

Unfortunately he eventually began to descend. On one hand he didn’t have enough data to predict the height to which he’d launch, and on the other hand he’d been prepared for a steep fall given the lack of data. The escaped gigai crashed into the roof and, in a surprising turn of events, felt like he’d just fallen ten feet onto hard concrete. It hurt a lot.

“Impressive,” Igasho’s voice came from nearby. “Really, I’m impressed.”

The ebony draped spirit was standing over the grounded gigai. Stepping around the stunned clone, the prisoner continued.

“In such a short amount of time, you’ve managed to not only blend in but fill in as a teacher.” A grin curled up on his lips, “I can certainly appreciate that - using your mind and not your...my muscles.”

He came to a stop, looking down at his shirtless, mirror image. Lowering his gloved hand to a relaxed stated, the former assassin took a deep breath.

“Well, anything you’d like to say before we get this over with?”

A chill ran down his spine when the shinigami’s voice filtered into his ears. Slowly, he stood up and took a few steps back. Fear was visible in his eyes.

“I was trying to do the right thing,” the possessed gigai breathed in deeply, “and to live,” he shook a bit in place. He didn’t want to give up his body, but he was too tired to keep running. Behind his words he knew what was coming.

“Tell me, shinigami,” he tried to keep his voice from shaking, “tell me what I’ve done wrong. Tell me why just existing, why just living is such a sin,” he swallowed and shook but he tried to stand his ground nonetheless.

“Don’t do that,” the stoic said looking at himself. “Don’t take pity on yourself, you haven’t earned it.” Igasho stepped away from his likeness. “Look at those humans below. Consider how they came to be, how they came into existence. Whether it was divine spark or cosmic creation, every second of the millennia and aeons that came to pass was a miracle that had to occur for the human spirit to simply become. Each cell had to fight to live and die, over and over again, until it could finally become something divine.

“Living isn’t a sin, but you haven’t earned it. You were created by man, in the image of man - a spawn of vanity and ego. That isn’t your fault but it’s something that has to be earned.” Igasho held the gloved hand out, coming closer to the gigai. “Consider how truly lucky you are to have been able to come into this brief existence so easily...and accept hat it’s over now.”

The former assassin moved his hand forward slowly toward the gigai, keeping a calm demeanor as the glove moved through the gigai’s frame. The ball rolled into the palm of Igasho’s hand as the light seemed to fade from the clone’s eyes. Pulling out the soul-candy, the former assassin shouldered the gigai as it leaned over, limp with lifelessness.

Turning away to make his way back to the warehouse, the reaper looked down at the small orb in his hand.

...You did nothing wrong.

WC : 2660

MoonlitRain014 · Oct 6, 2012

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

CAD: Okami Igasho
Mwn: Yaname-type gigai

Baseball wasn’t a sport that Igasho had any particular care for - especially when it involved being around humans that chose to imbibe to belligerence. The sport itself was nothing extraordinary to the shinigami but the crowd was the most unpleasant part of the experience. Stooped atop the field’s coliseum-like overhang, the reaper looked over the nosebleed section, where people sat, throwing peanut shells at each other, splashing beer in their laps and trying to talk with food stuffed in their mouths. The stoic had nothing against the frivolity or fun (or the alcohol, for that matter) but the lack of pride and respect left much to be desired.

The latest signature was back at the high school again but Igasho had arrived just in time to see several student-filled buses pulling away for a field trip. Racing to keep up with the cardinal caravan, the prisoner followed it to the stadium and managed to find the section where the classes were sitting and watched on as they started to file in. Boys and girls, dressed in their uniform alike, laughed with excitement and gossiped as you might expect when letting teenagers out into the wild. Igasho pulled out his phone, checking for any sporadic spiritual energy but nothing came up. Closing it again, the former assassin tucked the phone away and jumped down to the railing below, holding perfect balance as he stared ahead at the student’s taking their seats.

Coming down to the stairs, Igasho started to walk up, slowly letting his gaze carry over each face in the crowd.

The soul was so excited. It hadn’t been in a body for a long time and now it had this great gigai to ramble around in. At least, thankfully, it had ended up in this particular gigai as it was quite young, firm and capable of moving easily. It also had masses of lovely hair to flip around. In the school uniform ‘she’ was wearing the soul felt quite attractive and was receiving a good number of glances and wolf-whistles. Bouncing up the stairs the soul spun and twirled. It wasn’t considering the attention it would raise from the crowd and the fact that someone, a shinigami might be looking for it.

Eventually the soul sat down and settled back in her seat to watch this odd human pastime in action. It just felt so great to be free!

The prisoner strode between the crowd of teenagers, looking in each direction, hoping to grab the attention of someone. After an unsuccessful few minutes, Igasho began to worry that his target might not have even gone on the field trip...that was until something caught his eye.

The boisterous laughter of some grunting guys centered around a wave of blonde hair that whipped around. The guys gave each other winks and nods as they not-so-subtly hinted at their intentions with the newcomer. The girl turned around, laughing and grinning from ear to ear.

Igasho instantly recognized one of his own, another assassin (or, at least, the image of one) from the Twelfth Division. Whether or not the name was true, the tone was demanding enough for a response when he called out.

“Yaname!”

The soul had been trying to ignore the nagging tug of a familiar presence but the commanding tone of a shinigami was unmistakable. The name it was calling didn’t seem right but there was no doubt it was being called. However it wasn’t about to stop having fun so it bounced up in the pert and perky body and began to skip upwards through the stands. It was a rather accelerated skipping motion as a knot of crowd presented itself and the soul melted into it. There was nowhere to go but up so that’s where it went. All the while it began singing a crazy tune to itself. The feeling of being free was so exhilarating that it wasn’t concerned about much else other than evading the shinigami.

A sudden twist of railing caught its eye and the soul inhabiting the Yaname gigai slid down the railing with a whoop and disappeared into another crowd. There was no way that pesky guy was about to run the fun of being inside an actual body.

Igasho sprinted forward, reaching out for the spry girl as she bounced out of her seat. The former assassin’s hand stretched out, nearly grabbing hold of the gigai’s long, silky hair but it jumped out of reach at the last second.

The prisoner began to run forward but the gap between the two was suddenly filled with a pod of humans and the Yaname body sped away down a metal railing. Although it was all too easy for humans to pass through a soul, it required a little more effort for the soul to actively pass through a human, let alone a throng of them. Realizing there was no way that he could battle the crowd with enough speed to keep up with the girl, Igasho disappeared in a flash step, leaping down to the section below.

Running up the stairs and into the hallway of concessions, the reaper found another flight of stairs to his far right and raced up, hoping to get ahead of the gigai. Rushing in from the direction that the girl was heading, Igasho stood above the crowd and caught sight of her again. The former officer reached into his kosode and searched for his Gokentekkou as he sped forward to grab the gigai.

The prospect of a sudden halt to freedom didn’t please the gigai-wearing soul in the least. Once it had enjoyed the freedom of this body it was loving every minute of it. Bouncing off walls and careening down corridors it managed to keep just in front of this pursuing Death God. The gigai seemed to be feeling slightly less energetic than when it had started so the bubbly soul slowed down a little and jogged down a flight of stairs.

Crowds were suddenly thronging around the soul and it thought it prudent to slow down and try to blend in. Moving at the same pace of the crowd the gigai in its school uniform was continuing to attract a great deal of attention. The body the soul was in did have the distinction of being attractive and it wasn’t appreciative of all the men and teenage boys staring at it. I should have taken a more plain gigai because now that shinigami will see me it thought as it tried to be inconspicuous. Maybe the pursuer was going to get confused in amongst all of these people.

Igasho kept his eyes on the head of blonde hair that moved within the crowd as he slowed down, waiting for her to pass by where he could reach out and grab her. Slipping his fingers through the glove, the former assassin stalked his prey and came closer and closer. Now only a few feet away, the prisoner drew his arm back, ready to thrust his gloved palm forward, shoving the soul from the gigai.

Only a man and his wife separated the shinigami and his target as Igasho threw his hand forward, timing his strike to take the girl by surprise. As the couple moved out of the way, the Death God’s palm bolted forward. Suddenly, Igasho saw that the girl was not Yaname’s gigai but, in fact just another human. He instantly halted his strike, the open end of the glove coming just a few inches from the passer-by’s soft face.

Igasho let out a sight of relief and frustration as he spun on his heels, trying to see where his target went. Flashing away from the midst of the crowd, the reaper took to the stairs again and looked down at the moving humans. Before she could get much further, Igasho caught sight of the female gigai again and jumped back into the pit of people.

Concentrating on passing through the humans, he flash-stepped in front of the girl, standing before her like a brick wall. “Nice try.”

It had to be said that the soul was shocked when her pursuer stepped in front of her. He was a man of imposing stature and build and for a moment the gigai inhabiting soul was going to give up. But that moment passed and with a wicked grin pasted across the mischievous features of Yaname’s cloned face the soul used the strange agility of the facsimile shinigami to feint left and then right before diving into a roll and coming up on the gigai’s feet in a hard sprint. People loomed up but the small, compact size of the gigai made it entirely possible to dodge them as the rogue soul laughed gloriously through Yaname’s full lips.

The feeling of air flowing through her long hair, the sensation of an actual body and the ability to be free of the Death Gods were the soul’s only thoughts as a thronging crowd caught her up in its midst. The soul slowed down and began to try and blend in again. There was a certain pleasure to be had from evading capture as well. The longer this pursuit continued, the happier the soul was to draw it out.

Igasho furrowed his brow, his extended arms failing to grab hold of the quick girl. Clearly having underestimated the soul’s will to elude captivity, the prisoner watched as the gigai’s agile potential was tapped and sprinted away. The bouncy body turned heads as it sprang through the air, several feet higher than any normal human could do.

The former assassin trailed the quick girl, running past the concession stands and toward the entertainment booths. Turning a corner, Igasho halted for a moment as he lost sight of the spry gigai. His eyes scanned over the room - in one corner, a series of batting cages lined up and some filled with swinging hopefuls - in the other corner a row of pitching booths, highlighted by a jovial dummy catcher and a sign with blinking numbers, showing the speed of the pitches.

The stoic breathed deeply as he walked across the concrete floor, looking at each of the people in the room. With nowhere to go but back the way they came, the assassin’s clone could only be in there...somewhere.

The bright lights, interesting smells and colors were irresistible to the gigai-wearing soul and now that it felt at ease it took its time wandering around using this lovely body to experience the world. The crowds were wonderful to melt into and the gigai moved more steadily. Being alive in a body was such a rich, warm experience that it nearly forgot it was being tracked by a Death God. It crept slowly between booths now and tried to keep as low a profile as possible. Being away from the madness of being a captive soul was infinitely peaceful. It slid behind a pitching booth to watch the humans throwing balls and kept crouched low to avoid attracting attention.

Eyes scanning the busy room, the reaper turned his attention first to the batting cages. Visibly void of any gigai (only kids swinging wildly), the reaper stepped past each one to make sure he could see their faces below the helmets, confirming that the Yaname imposter was not there.

Moving over to the booths, a crowd of kids stood before the three counters, waiting for their balls to roll down the platform. The lights suddenly came on and festive ballpark music came from the games’ speakers, announcing the beginning of their competitive game. One by one, the balls rolled down and a kid would take hold, rear back and toss it toward the cartoon pitcher painted on the vinyl backdrop. Igasho watched as the balls bounced off the flimsy surface, realizing that, having nowhere else to go in the small game-room, the gigai would have to be flushed out.

Deciding to have some fun with it, the furtive reaper, unseen by the humans, reached down into the machines and grabbed hold of the lever holding back the balls. Pulling up on it and pinning back, the buckets of baseballs suddenly flooded the counters, making it seem as if there were a glitch with the machine. The kids roared with laughter, each one grabbing a ball and tossing it at the pitcher.

Igasho smirked and watched on as the kids pelted the soft backs of the game relentlessly.

Being pelted by baseballs as all of the mischievous kids began tossing the freely available baseballs willy-nilly was less fun for the soul who wasn’t terribly used to the sensation of pain caused by a few stray baseballs and in the body it was inhabiting it vaulted high over the heads of those kids. The trajectory of this attractive body was shockingly high and this drew everyone’s attention including the shinigami. The Yaname clone hit the ground running but this time she was within reach of the Death God and the body stumbled and hit the floor in front of her pursuer.

Igasho grabbed hold of the girl, both hands clasped onto her shoulders as he looked down at his captive. Without saying anything, the reaper moved a hand around to the gigai’s back and clenched the shirt tightly. Shoving her forward, the assassin kept the faux-teen walking at a regular pace, suspicious activity already having drawn enough attention.

The unseen reaper moved the feminine body through the crowd, down a flight of stairs and through a metal door, the sign above reading ‘EXIT’ in red lights. Coming out to an empty loading dock, the Death God pulled a gloved hand from his inner kosode and looked around as they made their way to the open garage door.

A deep, horrible sinking feeling seized the soul as the Death God took hold of the gigai. Suddenly all of the manic energy fell from it as it realized that no matter how much it ran, eventually the shinigami would track it down. As it was lead away it spoke softly to its captor. It simply said, “There’s nothing better than freedom. If only I had a little more time. Why don’t we ever get enough time?”

Now they stood in this dank cavern of a space and the soul could feel the strong hand against the back of the gigai. It shut the eyes that it had only possessed for a short while and awaited the removal of the body it had enjoyed so much for such a fleeting moment.

Coming to a stop near the open doorway, the shinigami sighed as the girl spoke. Another brief epilogue of joy coming to an end, to which the Death God felt the need to respond.The prisoner looked down at the stolen body loosened his grip.

“I took that freedom for granted too,” he said, lifting a hand to show the shackled wrist beneath a sleeve. “Be glad you saw what you did and be glad that it’s ending now - before too long you’d come to see the suffering of existence. You’re getting out now before things get bad, so be grateful.”

The shinigami moved the glove up to the gigai’s neck.

“I have nothing against you or your existence. Unfortunately for you, though, your captivity means my freedom.”

With those words, the reaper moved his hand through the manufactured flesh and pulled out the candy. Yaname’s gigai fell forward into the burly man’s left arm and hung over it lifelessly. Disappearing into the night air, the former assassin was now one step closer to being done with the bounty.

Word Count: 2608

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