Eidolon
Murderface Murderface
"I hate this world,” the earthen-haired man said as he surveyed the teeming streets of Tokyo. He stood as an anomaly, a man dressed in black ceremonial robes amongst humans in their daily garb: suits, skirts, and shorts. Thankfully, though they passed by him and nearly brushed against him, none could either see or come into contact with his spiritual form: for he was shinigami.
Mumbling to himself, the sword toting figure ambled along the street, golden eyes sweeping the scene with a certain lack of gusto. Standard patrols in the real world were very unenjoyable for the unseated Mystic. He didn’t have enough reiatsu to attract hollows, or enough to combat the particularly dangerous ones. In short, his stints there ended up being utterly unremarkable.
His feelings on the matter left him to pondering the boring fate, and had him too self absorbed to notice the first time the young girl addressed him. She was nine, perhaps ten years of age and dressed similar to the other humans in the area, perhaps that’s why he failed to notice the meek question directed his way.
"Mister?” Woosh, right past him and into the abyss of unanswering humans all around them. The second time she opted for a more direct approach, poking Creed squarely in the back. "Mister?”
That got his attention. Physical contact is something one misses when in the real world, something one cannot have with normal humans. Blinking once, the limber figure’s head tilted down and looked to the small Japanese girl. "Yes?”
"Have you seen my parents? I’m lost I think, and I haven’t been able to find them for a while now.” The question was asked with full bluntness and honesty.
The result probably wasn’t what she expected, the golden-eyed youth choked up for a moment, expression the scene of war against strong emotional pull. He knew what he was dealing with: this girl was a plus soul. And more than likely, one that was lost in the recent battle in the city. He swallowed hard, once, and exhaled a breath charged with all the hard feelings that were knotting his stomach. I must be cursed.
But the Mystic was a good soul, and he turned those feelings of pity and regret into compassion: this was the first and foremost purpose of a shinigami. "I have not, but perhaps we can look for them together, huh?”
The girl smiled, he was the first person to answer her in weeks. "Yes, I’d like that a lot!”
Ticking his head off to the side, the smiling shinigami asked, "Let’s start with where you lost them, all right?”
The pair moved off into the crowd, towards were the plus soul was created through death. And just as the youth feared, she guided him off towards the grim monument. "This is where you lost them?” He didn’t want the answer to the question.
"Yessir, it was right here,” she replied in a hopeful voice.
How the hell am I going to do this? I can’t let her know the truth. Shit. Eyes darting through the crowd, he stalled in silence for several moments attempting to formulate a plan. Thankfully, one came. For the next several minutes, the shinigami began pointing to various couples walking on the street, asking if they were the ones in question. Every time, the answer was no.
Each time was a solemn reminder of the price paid by everyone during the attacks of malevolent spirits. After hours of this, though, Creed had hoped the time was right to spring his guidance. "Hey, I have a thought for you,” he offered as he broke off a popsicle and handed the girl half. "Now that I’ve been thinking about it, I think I’ve seen your parents before.”
Treat in mouth, the girl attempted to respond but only managed a "Waelly!?”
That finally put a little smile on Creed’s face. "Yeah. How about I take you to where I saw them before?”
An emphatic series of nods followed the question.
"All right, close your eyes and we’ll go.” The girl did as she was told, and the shinigami slid the skewed and crimson blade from the scabbard on his back. With a gentle motion, he tapped the hilt’s end against the girl’s forehead, enveloping her in a familiar and warm light.
In a few moments, she was gone. As were the memories of that nameless girl he had just spent the day with. The shinigami felt it better that way, not to know who she was, what she was doing, or of her life in the real world. If he had asked, if he had come to learn, it would have been only a burden on him he could never have cast aside.
As it was, he already would keep the pain of the battle’s consequences with him. The pettiness of life would forever result in the cruelty of death. But at least the cycle provided a measure of peace in absolution.
[834]
Mumbling to himself, the sword toting figure ambled along the street, golden eyes sweeping the scene with a certain lack of gusto. Standard patrols in the real world were very unenjoyable for the unseated Mystic. He didn’t have enough reiatsu to attract hollows, or enough to combat the particularly dangerous ones. In short, his stints there ended up being utterly unremarkable.
His feelings on the matter left him to pondering the boring fate, and had him too self absorbed to notice the first time the young girl addressed him. She was nine, perhaps ten years of age and dressed similar to the other humans in the area, perhaps that’s why he failed to notice the meek question directed his way.
"Mister?” Woosh, right past him and into the abyss of unanswering humans all around them. The second time she opted for a more direct approach, poking Creed squarely in the back. "Mister?”
That got his attention. Physical contact is something one misses when in the real world, something one cannot have with normal humans. Blinking once, the limber figure’s head tilted down and looked to the small Japanese girl. "Yes?”
"Have you seen my parents? I’m lost I think, and I haven’t been able to find them for a while now.” The question was asked with full bluntness and honesty.
The result probably wasn’t what she expected, the golden-eyed youth choked up for a moment, expression the scene of war against strong emotional pull. He knew what he was dealing with: this girl was a plus soul. And more than likely, one that was lost in the recent battle in the city. He swallowed hard, once, and exhaled a breath charged with all the hard feelings that were knotting his stomach. I must be cursed.
But the Mystic was a good soul, and he turned those feelings of pity and regret into compassion: this was the first and foremost purpose of a shinigami. "I have not, but perhaps we can look for them together, huh?”
The girl smiled, he was the first person to answer her in weeks. "Yes, I’d like that a lot!”
Ticking his head off to the side, the smiling shinigami asked, "Let’s start with where you lost them, all right?”
The pair moved off into the crowd, towards were the plus soul was created through death. And just as the youth feared, she guided him off towards the grim monument. "This is where you lost them?” He didn’t want the answer to the question.
"Yessir, it was right here,” she replied in a hopeful voice.
How the hell am I going to do this? I can’t let her know the truth. Shit. Eyes darting through the crowd, he stalled in silence for several moments attempting to formulate a plan. Thankfully, one came. For the next several minutes, the shinigami began pointing to various couples walking on the street, asking if they were the ones in question. Every time, the answer was no.
Each time was a solemn reminder of the price paid by everyone during the attacks of malevolent spirits. After hours of this, though, Creed had hoped the time was right to spring his guidance. "Hey, I have a thought for you,” he offered as he broke off a popsicle and handed the girl half. "Now that I’ve been thinking about it, I think I’ve seen your parents before.”
Treat in mouth, the girl attempted to respond but only managed a "Waelly!?”
That finally put a little smile on Creed’s face. "Yeah. How about I take you to where I saw them before?”
An emphatic series of nods followed the question.
"All right, close your eyes and we’ll go.” The girl did as she was told, and the shinigami slid the skewed and crimson blade from the scabbard on his back. With a gentle motion, he tapped the hilt’s end against the girl’s forehead, enveloping her in a familiar and warm light.
In a few moments, she was gone. As were the memories of that nameless girl he had just spent the day with. The shinigami felt it better that way, not to know who she was, what she was doing, or of her life in the real world. If he had asked, if he had come to learn, it would have been only a burden on him he could never have cast aside.
As it was, he already would keep the pain of the battle’s consequences with him. The pettiness of life would forever result in the cruelty of death. But at least the cycle provided a measure of peace in absolution.
[834]