Post by Tsukuyomi Kawada on Jan 22, 2022 2:45:17 GMT -5
A painful this followed by the cold sensation across his front, a familiar sensation that marked the beginning of his slumber. The thin yet toned man by all on the outside known as the Vice Captain of the Eleventh. His long straight pitch hair was something that many a female believed to be his most appealing feature alongside his elegant face yet if any were to see what laid bare beneath the clothing upon the surface, no such appreciation would be given. Bare by himself in the room that he had come to know as his own the last few years.
A room in the ground with no windows, no bathroom, no light, no food, nothing beyond the walls and the warmth that his own body could provide for him. It was cold and dark with nothing provided for him and everything stripped away. His pale body rattled with gashes large and small, scars that decorated him like a canvas matching the wounds both fresh and mending. His was not a healthy figure nor a pleasant one as the chain scratched at the cement floor while he gave into his situation. Energy wasn’t something he could afford to waste now.
He’d been training all evening put through drill after drill to the point that his palms bleed. The screams of Mikoto and Honshitsu his zanpakuto rang throughout his mind in their disapproval of what he’d been doing. This wasn’t the sort of training that led to healthy growth, it was cruel and necessary. It was meant to harm him like a punishment for something he had no control over. During the first year of his life as a Kawada his chain had rattled on the cement floor resentment most likely fueling the action against what was happening yet even now his appendage of Hell lay in isolation on the cold hard floor.
The only source of light came from the door that he’d just been tossed through. His eyes barely remain open as he watches the light vanish and realizes that someone must be standing in the doorway. His eyes move to gaze at who it must be while his head remains still. There he was the old man who was in part responsible for his existence and his success as a Shinigami yet despite all that had been achieved he remained the worst possible entity Tsukuyomi had ever met.
“Rise like a Phoenix.”
Tsukuyomi, struggling to get up, takes about fifteen seconds to get up to his feet as his legs tremble at the challenge of holding up his own weight. Scraped knees, cuts shins, broken toes all injuries that would keep the majority from completing training. Panting escaped from Tsukuyomi as his head rose to meet his grandfather’s eyes in a sign of demanded respect. The old Shinigami had been more than aggressive in teaching Tsukuyomi the proper respectful manner of speaking with him when he’d first met the old man. Even now as his eyes seemed fogged over in exhaustion he’d demand the attention of the young Kawada.
“I’ve been told you were out again, this time teaching some new member of the Eleventh how to fashion a blade. Why must you continue to disobey?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted to keep working on it and she happened to come by.”
“So she asked you about how to make a blade? She begged you to show her?”
Tsukuyomi paused knowing that he’d be lying if he said yes.
“That’s what I thought.”
Tsukuyomi heard the crack of his right shin fracturing from a swing so fast it couldn’t be heard. His grandfather held a wooden katana in his right hand that’d just been used to punish the Kawada. Dropping down to a kneeling position by reflex, Tsukuyomi closes his eyes in pain as tears well up. Blood streaming from the wound down to his foot.
“Your job is to make the Kawada look good. You know this, I’ve told you this an exhaustive amount of times. Lead the Eleventh for the time being, do the paperwork, come back for your instruction, abide by the Phoenix Force and Myself. Nothing else.”
“Yes grandfather.”
“Good now it’s come to my attention that you haven’t met with the Captain of Division Thirteen yet despite his notice coming more than a week ago.”
“Yes, I’ve been busy training the new recruits with the time allotted.”
Dropping to the floor Tsukuyomi feels an immense pain flourish from his neck so intense the impact to the side of his face on the floor wasn’t even present. The sting of a wooden blade against his neck was like nothing else. Why couldn’t it just be real? Why couldn’t that blade just end it all instead of continuing to force suffering upon him? A thick dark swelling would begin that’d take shape as a deep purple wound on the left side of his neck. Getting back to his kneeling position would take almost a minute.
“The time you’ve been given everyday is more than adequate; you're not utilizing it properly. You’ll meet with the Captain of the Thirteen tomorrow otherwise you’ll further tarnish the Kawada name with your laziness.”
Turning his back it seemed the questioning was over and Tsukuyomi could finally embrace the cold floor in slumber. However, for some reason a question escaped from his lips, one that he’d never asked of his grandfather. One that he’d known was a fruitless ill fated proposition.
“Why don’t you love me?”
Stopping only to turn with a look of disgust on his face, Tsukuyomi watches the Elder enclose on the doorway once more, the disgust forging into rage.
“One does not love a tool.”
“My mother was your daught”
“No my daughter was a beautiful Kawada who was raped and vanished. You’re the tarnished halfbreed of the pathetic creature that continued to live in the shell of a body my daughter once possessed.”
Tsukuyomi felt the wooden edge on his chin lifting his head up to continue the eye lock between them. It was clear at any moment he could be killed and this man would have no issue doing it.
“Your existence is for the Kawada and you’ll live until you’re no longer of use to the Kawada. Only at that point do you have my permission to join your accursed father in the pit.”
“Why even take me in if you hate me so?”
“You comprehend as horrendously as you fight. You’re here as a Kawada in name. You’re a placeholder and nothing more. The mere fact you know the techniques of a Kawada. The same techniques that have saved my life disgusts me. It’s a stain on them that you can use them just as your existence is a stain on the Kawada. Thought you would have remembered you are truly the Black Phoenix of this family.”
A room in the ground with no windows, no bathroom, no light, no food, nothing beyond the walls and the warmth that his own body could provide for him. It was cold and dark with nothing provided for him and everything stripped away. His pale body rattled with gashes large and small, scars that decorated him like a canvas matching the wounds both fresh and mending. His was not a healthy figure nor a pleasant one as the chain scratched at the cement floor while he gave into his situation. Energy wasn’t something he could afford to waste now.
He’d been training all evening put through drill after drill to the point that his palms bleed. The screams of Mikoto and Honshitsu his zanpakuto rang throughout his mind in their disapproval of what he’d been doing. This wasn’t the sort of training that led to healthy growth, it was cruel and necessary. It was meant to harm him like a punishment for something he had no control over. During the first year of his life as a Kawada his chain had rattled on the cement floor resentment most likely fueling the action against what was happening yet even now his appendage of Hell lay in isolation on the cold hard floor.
The only source of light came from the door that he’d just been tossed through. His eyes barely remain open as he watches the light vanish and realizes that someone must be standing in the doorway. His eyes move to gaze at who it must be while his head remains still. There he was the old man who was in part responsible for his existence and his success as a Shinigami yet despite all that had been achieved he remained the worst possible entity Tsukuyomi had ever met.
“Rise like a Phoenix.”
Tsukuyomi, struggling to get up, takes about fifteen seconds to get up to his feet as his legs tremble at the challenge of holding up his own weight. Scraped knees, cuts shins, broken toes all injuries that would keep the majority from completing training. Panting escaped from Tsukuyomi as his head rose to meet his grandfather’s eyes in a sign of demanded respect. The old Shinigami had been more than aggressive in teaching Tsukuyomi the proper respectful manner of speaking with him when he’d first met the old man. Even now as his eyes seemed fogged over in exhaustion he’d demand the attention of the young Kawada.
“I’ve been told you were out again, this time teaching some new member of the Eleventh how to fashion a blade. Why must you continue to disobey?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I just wanted to keep working on it and she happened to come by.”
“So she asked you about how to make a blade? She begged you to show her?”
Tsukuyomi paused knowing that he’d be lying if he said yes.
“That’s what I thought.”
Tsukuyomi heard the crack of his right shin fracturing from a swing so fast it couldn’t be heard. His grandfather held a wooden katana in his right hand that’d just been used to punish the Kawada. Dropping down to a kneeling position by reflex, Tsukuyomi closes his eyes in pain as tears well up. Blood streaming from the wound down to his foot.
“Your job is to make the Kawada look good. You know this, I’ve told you this an exhaustive amount of times. Lead the Eleventh for the time being, do the paperwork, come back for your instruction, abide by the Phoenix Force and Myself. Nothing else.”
“Yes grandfather.”
“Good now it’s come to my attention that you haven’t met with the Captain of Division Thirteen yet despite his notice coming more than a week ago.”
“Yes, I’ve been busy training the new recruits with the time allotted.”
Dropping to the floor Tsukuyomi feels an immense pain flourish from his neck so intense the impact to the side of his face on the floor wasn’t even present. The sting of a wooden blade against his neck was like nothing else. Why couldn’t it just be real? Why couldn’t that blade just end it all instead of continuing to force suffering upon him? A thick dark swelling would begin that’d take shape as a deep purple wound on the left side of his neck. Getting back to his kneeling position would take almost a minute.
“The time you’ve been given everyday is more than adequate; you're not utilizing it properly. You’ll meet with the Captain of the Thirteen tomorrow otherwise you’ll further tarnish the Kawada name with your laziness.”
Turning his back it seemed the questioning was over and Tsukuyomi could finally embrace the cold floor in slumber. However, for some reason a question escaped from his lips, one that he’d never asked of his grandfather. One that he’d known was a fruitless ill fated proposition.
“Why don’t you love me?”
Stopping only to turn with a look of disgust on his face, Tsukuyomi watches the Elder enclose on the doorway once more, the disgust forging into rage.
“One does not love a tool.”
“My mother was your daught”
“No my daughter was a beautiful Kawada who was raped and vanished. You’re the tarnished halfbreed of the pathetic creature that continued to live in the shell of a body my daughter once possessed.”
Tsukuyomi felt the wooden edge on his chin lifting his head up to continue the eye lock between them. It was clear at any moment he could be killed and this man would have no issue doing it.
“Your existence is for the Kawada and you’ll live until you’re no longer of use to the Kawada. Only at that point do you have my permission to join your accursed father in the pit.”
“Why even take me in if you hate me so?”
“You comprehend as horrendously as you fight. You’re here as a Kawada in name. You’re a placeholder and nothing more. The mere fact you know the techniques of a Kawada. The same techniques that have saved my life disgusts me. It’s a stain on them that you can use them just as your existence is a stain on the Kawada. Thought you would have remembered you are truly the Black Phoenix of this family.”