Doc
New Member
Indoctrinated
Adachi Hisao : Shadowwind
Yoshinaga Gorou : Doc
Yoshinaga Gorou : Doc
Tokyo was, as ever, an unchanging cesspool. For whatever reason nearly six separate locations for konsou had been brought to Gorou’s attention. Even though he’d be the last one to complain it had come to the point that it seemed a division other than the Third would be better-suited to such menial tasks. Off the top of his head this kind of harmless mission was closer to the Eleventh division’s skill level.
Some sentiment regarding his supposedly-high seat had been expressed by the analyst that had issued the orders at the mission’s inception, but he’d not identified any kind of importance with his “title” unlike apparently the rest of the Gotei.
For some time a feeling of rising sense of urgency had been building in the samurai’s gut. With each passing day there seemed to be something following his every step. To some degree the sensation was similar to the way in which Gunshin had monitored him before making itself known. However, there was no great revelation nor appearance. All that the presence did was build and lurk.
On top of what he felt within he’d found it considerably harder to keep his reiatsu contained. Each time he performed a konsou his energy would flare up almost on its own. As little as he actually knew about reiatsu it didn’t help that stopping it from flaring up once again became more and more difficult. By the time he’d compressed his spiritual pressure yet again - a process that nearly took thirty seconds - he noticed for just a moment that his own energy was different.
He was not the only one who noticed the strangeness in his reiatsu. Hisao himself liked to keep tabs on the shinigami who visited Tokyo, looking for those he could extort for information about spiritual affairs. However, this monitoring had lead him straight towards something far more interesting. It was underdeveloped, but the old man could tell the reiatsu signature from anything else. Poor unfortunate soul.
He would not break the news quickly, not in such a premature case such as this. There was plenty of time to speak to the new comer, to tell him of all he had lost. Walking calmly up to the man the relic gave a slight nod. There was a pause as the kidouist searched for what to address the man, ultimately preferring to hide what he knew already had happened. “Shinigami, what brings you to my little slice of Tokyo?” By reflex, the old man’s hand tightened on his zanpakutou as he awaited the shinigami’s response.
Confusion struck first at the old man’s sudden appearance. Older shinigami were prevalent, but this stranger was different. Never had any of his comrades referred to any section of the living world as belonging to them. Conversely that sort of statement was only odd due to his own hatred of everything for which the modern world stood. Given the nature of his mission he kept his guard relaxed without bothering to give more thought as to the old man’s question.
“Just konsou, ojii-san,” he breathed. In the same moment it took him to speak, the initial shock at the unfamiliar feeling of his reiatsu had dissipated.
“That’s all an ol-” he cut off the sentence before he made a fool of himself. Having spent so much time calling himself an old man had nearly caused him to forget his audience was likely far older than he.
“Hrm,” the ronin cleared his throat, “that’s all there is until the Gotei is ready to declare war yet again. Are you here for the same,” he obliviously asked, “or have you been assigned to this place permanently?”
“You might say I’ve been assigned this place.” The relic said with a smirk, “Not voluntarily but the Central Forty-Six will do what it wants. I cannot fault them for the reasoning, as wrong as it was.” He looked over the converting shinigami with the confused look. “This is your first mission to the human world in a while isn’t it?” Hisao said. He wondered if the shinigami had noticed how difficult it would be to reopen the Senkaimon.
“Ah where are my manners, I of all people shouldn’t mind introducing myself.” The old man tried to sound cheery but a hint of melancholy tinged his voice. He has no idea. “The name is Hisao, Hisao Adachi.” The kidouist said with a bow.
A single, red eyebrow perked up as a reaction to hearing Hisao’s name. Somewhere in Gorou’s mind, locked away along with every other useless fact such as how to operate a cell phone, was the reason that this man’s name was familiar. When nothing came to mind other than that nagging feeling of familiarity he let the subject go. An oddity did occur to him, however. He followed his gut.
“An honor, Hisao-san. I am Yoshinaga Gorou,” he paused for a slight bow his eyes, “tell me, from which division were you assigned to this place?” There wasn’t a single inkling of suspicion in his mind but the question begged to be asked.
“I was in the tenth division under Sayis.” The old man said after a pause. “The Central Forty-Six did not approve of me and so unceremoniously kicked me out. You might have heard just a little bit about it.”
For a moment Gorou thought that Hisao’s brief history lesson would be the key that would unlock the nagging feeling in the back of his head. Absolutely nothing came to mind other than he knew that Commander Inuzuri’s first name was Sayis.
Enough history about a forgotten culture was in his head that the history of the Gotei left only a vague impression. On the other hand the described event seemed to resonate the more he thought about it. It didn’t help that Hisao had left out a very crucial piece of information.
“I don’t pretend to know what motivation lies behind the Judges’ decisions,” he narrowed his eyes, “but y...” he stopped not a moment too soon. Having gone over the statement in his head caused him to connect the dots. “You must have been removed for a good reason,” made it obvious. Only two kinds of Shinigami were forcefully removed from their divisions, and one of those kinds were imprisoned in the Seventh or executed immediately. The other type of Shinigami removed were called something else. A look of awe suddenly dawned upon Gorou’s face as it came to him.
“Adachi-san,” the ronin gathered his composure, “you are a Vizard,” he stated the obvious.
The ivory flowed freely as the hybrid manifested his mask. However rather than appear over his face the porcelain floated briefly in the air before falling and shattering on the ground. “Perceptive, if a bit slow.” The relic said bluntly, “I was Sayis’ vice-captain before my condition got in the way.”
There was a slight laugh from the vizard before he continued, “Regardless I have seen enough of the world in my times that I have become perceptive of things most others cannot glimpse. Either because they have no idea of what to look for, or the truth terrifies them. Even in death most shinigami wish to remain normal.” The sentence seemed odd, though the old man didn’t pry.
He would have to slowly go into this, too suddenly might break the man before him. “What rank are you?” The relic already knew the answer but the shinigami would have to piece together why that question was important.
At the sight of the mask Gorou’s body tensed up somewhat. Instinct told him that the mask belonged to that which he was meant to defeat, but the old man in front of him shared nothing in common with the beasts. The mere fact that such duality could exist was a concept that he hadn’t been prepared to conceive of.
Quizzically, he furrowed his brow as Hisao spoke. The only fact regarding Vizards about which he could be sure was that they were strengthened by and also had to contend with an inner Hollow. Other than hearing that Theron Ascania had been a Vizard he put no stock in the rumors.
“I hold the rank of third seat,” his eyes narrowed. It seemed that matters of rank would make little difference to a Vizard. Whatever meaning that lay behind the question wasn’t readily apparent to him other than the fact that there had to be a reason for it.
“But, what use does a title have out here?”
Forgive me... the relic thought before he took a breath. “Little in terms of intimidation but everything when it comes to confirming my suspicions. I take it you used an already open Senkaimon to enter the living world correct? You didn’t create one.” The relic paused to muster up the courage to tell the shinigami the truth. “I also believe you underwent some catastrophic stress more than likely involving a hollow.” The look in the shinigami’s eyes confirmed the worst.
“I feared as much, if you would like to know why that is so important, attempt to form a Senkaimon right here. I will do nothing to stop you.” Hisao waited, his hand tensed on his zanpakutou. He had seen countless hybrids before. But they usually knew of their condition. This would be the first time the relic himself had to break the news. The relic’s eyes were focused like daggers, hoping for the shinigami’s sake the gate formed.
All of the questions seemed to be driving toward a singular point. If Gorou didn’t know any better it seemed like Hisao was waiting for him to come upon the reason himself. Rather than think on it for too long, he took a few steps back to make room for the portal he was certain he was about to open. As if he were about to prove a point, he rapidly withdrew and thrusted Gunshin outward into the open air.
“Impossible,” he gasped. Not so much as a ripple in the air emanated from his weapon. At first he placed the blame inward. Opening a gate to a whole other realm wasn’t something he could so flawlessly master, he decided. Again, he attempted to summon a Senkaimon but to no avail.
Surprise on the samurai’s face slowly transitioned to fear. Without meaning to he had started picking apart everything Hisao had just said. For the briefest moment his mind moved back just a few days to the battle with Locura.
As if on cue the pit in his stomach returned - the same one that had been put there when the beast had skewered him with the lance made of its own blood. Though he was many things, he was neither a coward nor a fool.
“Adachi-san,” the words were scratching at the back of his throat, “have I become...” he trailed off. Neither sadness nor despair overtook him moreso than shell-shock.
“Vizard?”
“Come walk with me,” The relic said gently. “I would not wish the breaking upon my greatest foe, yet you can survive it I think.” It was the truth. Earth could be cruel, but not any more so than the strict doctrine of Seireitei. Adjusting, getting used to the new voice and shattered mind, that is what destroyed so many of the souls unfortunate enough to face conversion. The old man had his books and his Directorship of Cerberus to keep the voice at bay. But for how long...
The beast within him rose up on cue. Trying to put on a smile, or at best not look worried Hisao addressed the new vizard. “There is much to discuss, least of which involves your new abilities. I believe now is as good a time as any.” The last sentence was to himself more than anyone, how many besides Ciro had heard his title? How many could guess as to his ambition? ”As Imperator, I welcome you fully to the Army ofMasks.”
An army of two men, the kidouist had to stifle a laugh. It is pitiful but it is what I have.
WC : 2,014