Post by Connor Greaves on Dec 25, 2015 0:40:00 GMT -5
{opening}
Password 1: [#Rekt(How, DARE YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME WRITE A 'HASHTAG'! I consider them the dipping point of the human mentality. The only people who use this are mind numbed teens, and adults who just do not understand how foolish these deplorable trends.)]
Password 2: [Guy's Jawline]
Type: [Perma release]
Squad: [9]
Rank: [1]
Name: [Connor Greaves]
Age of Death: [19]
Real Age/Age of Appearance: [23/19]
Birthday (Month/Day): [October second]
Blood Type: [AB]
Height/Weight: [Seven foot one/Two hundred fourteen pounds]
Physical Description:
Connor is tall, very tall, but he is not exactly bulky, or anywhere near close to as bulky as a person his size should be. With a frail and almost sickly appearance, there are very few things he has going for him in the looks department. While not exactly skeletal in appearance, he is definitely lacking in mass, and thus he covers himself with multiple layers of clothing, not content with simply wearing the traditional shinigami garb, just to give himself a larger appearance. His skin is bone white, with his hair being an even paler shade, looking white as snow. While he used to be ridiculed for his looks once upon a time, he has since learned how to deal with it.
His solution? A Mask to hide the majority of his face. His left eye had been missing since before he entered the realm of the shinigami. His mask appears to be porcelain, taking on an old fox-like appearance used in Japan. More often than not, he also wears bandages around his lower face, just in case his mask falls off. It is not that he is all that ugly, in fact, he has a fairly handsome face. Aside from his slightly androgynous look, there really is not too much a reason for him to be wearing it. He wears it for a simple, but silly reason.
It is just that, every time he looks into a mirror, he gets flashes of another face, of a grinning madman. So familiar to him... This frightens Connor. He cares not to think about it, so he wears a mask to fend off those visions. He even cut his hair from how it used to look. It once touched down to the small of his back, but he since chopped it down to a more manageable level, no longer even touching his shoulders. It took a lot of effort to do so, and he even turned the leftovers into wigs for some balding men. Dyed to different colors, of course.
When not wearing his bandages or mask, he rarely looks calm, always wearing a nervous expression that suits him so well. While he might have cut away most of his ivory locks, he certainly kept enough to keep a Gothic look to him. His hair, drastically shortened as it may have been, has been left relatively long in the front and on the sides. His bangs frame his face, covering his ears completely. With how long Connor left the hair in front, he cover his eyes at all times should he feel like it, though he usually only covers his left eye for obvious reasons. He does have a tendency to cover them both when embarrassed however.
With a gangly looking body, he covers himself thoroughly. That, and because he burns easily. For a top, he wears a baggy black tee shirt over top of a skin tight black undershirt, with both tops going right down to the wrists, with a silver cross on a silver chain that hangs between the two shirts, that looks almost like a Quincy cross.. He wears black jeans, with a white belt to keep them up. Not a very impressive color palette, trust me, he realizes that, but there isn't much room for artistic choices while you're so low in the thirteen court guard squads. And if you must know, on duty, he wears those clothes underneath the normal garbs.
Forgoing the traditional socks with sandals, he wears black custom made boots, just like everything else he wears. It's hard to find decent clothing is size in the Rukongai, so he just makes them, having arrived with a knack for it. White socks hidden beneath both his boots and his pants grace his ankles to prevent a rash from the leather of his boots constantly rubbing against his skin with every step he takes. The only reason his mask doesn't do that same is because of an herbal blend that he learned off of an old lady he lived with.
Over top his hands, he wears wears white gloves. Redundant, seeing as his hands are paler than the fabric used to make them, but they keep the sun off his skin. Stitched into the back of his gloves are two phrases. on his left hand are the words 'Never forget your past'. Ironically, he hasn't been able to remember past waking up in the outer edges of the Rukongai. On his right hand are the words, 'Tis by grace you've been saved'. He sees those words as a reminder, so he never forgets that he really shouldn't be alive. Or was he alive, being in the soul society?
Anyway, he was found with over a dozen injuries, including every single rib being broken, his hands being torn to shreds, a single hole on each of his legs, and most of his back covered in a third degree burn. The scars have yet to go away, and no, they do not look pretty. In fact, the entirety of his back is still a huge red mass of crunched up skin, that is painful to look at, to touch, and still hurts Connor to this day when struck too hard. He assumes he died from the wound, but he somehow doubts it.
His eyes... er, eye, holds all the emotion that his face doesn't get to show. A dark red orb that glows bloody in the right lights, stares out at the world in longing. Connor would have preferred a dull blue, or even a boring brown instead of this frightening looking ball of an eye. His look can be called that of longing and sorrow almost every time he is seen, no matter the situation. But other times, when he is focused, it is that of an unyielding determination. A look that shows that he will not back down, no matter the consequences. When recollecting, it holds nothing but a bottomless pit of hate and rage though. He is very good at conveying his emotions with only his one eye. Not that he ever lets anyone see it.
[1. Loud noises. He prefers a quiet atmosphere to a noisy one any day.
2. Surprises. Having a slightly meeker personality, he gets somewhat jumpy when something unexpected happens.
3. Bullies. Having been subject to these kinds of people during his earlier days in the outer districts, he has learned to hate this mind set people take on.
4. Acts of pointless violence. Yet another thing he's learned to loath, skirting around situations that might bring these up.
5. Bright days. Having fairer skin, he prefers the sun stay away, and off his person.
6. Rodents. Having to fend off these creatures, and keeping them away from your food is one thing, waking up in the middle of the night, only to feel them sharing your bed is another. "That night was not the only time I rebuilt the second floor of my apartment....
7. Thieves. These guys almost always know what they're doing, and it is hard chasing them down once they got what they wanted. And chasing people down is so much work for me. I hate running, and these guys never make it easy.
8. The number six. He doesn't understand why, but whenever he hears the number, it just grates on his mood, especially when you say it more than once.
9. Alcohol. The drink always manages to bring out the worst in people, and the sooner it is gone, the better. I have seen good men turn into monsters with nothing but a few drinks. Then again, what is the problem with having one? The drink only shows what is really there, so I should be fine...
10. Nobles. Those who gain their fortune off of another's legacy is someone who deserves to be gone and forgotten. I was not someone who was given anything in life. I had to earn it. While I know that there is a great deal of stereotyping with the lot, being prideful monsters, uncaring of those that are presumed to be below them, are there may certainly be those people out there, I still believe everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves. That being said, I loath prideful monsters who look down on other people for simply being born under less than idea conditions.
11. Traitors. These people are the worst, building up trust, only to stab their once allies on the back for whatever reason. I hate them. A wound of the flesh is a simple thing, something that can be healed with ease. Betrayal, now that is a wound that is deeper than any medical kido can reach. All good feelings, instantly turned to pain, like a knife to the heart, a stab the back, something you can never prepare yourself for.
12. Candy. These sugar filled treats tend to leave me feeling jittery, and leaving all of my teeth itchy. A terrible feeling.
13. The color green. Puke, slime, sickness, envy, oak leaves, what do all these have in common? That's right, green. Enough said.
14. Cursing. Only those with little words in their vocabulary resort to such vulgar language. I try to stay positive, keeping the mood free of such foul speech out of the air. It is easier said than done with some people...
15. Fighting. Oh how I hate to see others hurt, I just have to avoid it. Is there truly something wrong with good will towards men and peace on Earth? I try to defuse a situation non-violently, but some times... there is no other solution but to fight. And I refuse to take the blame for it one I draw my blade.
16. Being called a freak. This goes past a simple matter of dislike. He hate this phrase like no other. If you call me this, then I will not stop. Whatever issue I had with this word in a past life still haunts me. My skin starts to itch, my head starts to rush, like a dam bursting open in my head, every instinct of mine telling me... Kill them all.]
[1. Cheese. The taste is like tasting a little slice of heaven. The real heaven. Cause the soul society? This sure is no heaven. I am unable to recall how or why I became addicted to the flavor, but it left an impact I have been unable to shake off, no matter how much I tell myself eating a pound of raw cheese is bad for my health.
2. Heaven. Somehow, against all odds, the one thing I remember in life aside from my name, is my faith. One day I will get there. One day...
3. My belongings. I do not own much in this horror of an afterlife. I might have at one point, but that is no longer the case. For a long while, keeping anything on my person was dangerous, pointless, or I was simply unable to take with me, so I make sure to cherish what little I have managed to take with me up until this point.
4. Singing. I try not to boast or brag, but I have been told by the few people have caught me in the act, that... well that I am pretty good at it. So, I suppose that if I can make someone happy with it, I should get some joy out of it too, right?
5. Fixing things. I admit, while being good with my hands is a blessing, and certainly tedious at times, it all becomes worth it to make something that would have been trashed, into something useful. To return purpose to something that had lost it due to a mistake, to keep it alive in the eyes of another.
6. Leaving on a high note. A satisfying ending is the best way to go, both in life, and in death.
7. The number seven. This is my lucky number, without a doubt. When someone mentions this number, it leaves me with an oddly warm glow inside.
8. Building things. On the same boat as fixing things, it leaves me in a happy mood to see something I worked so hard on finished.
9. Motor vehicles. It might seem a bit out of character for someone as... quiet as I am, but you must understand something. I am a man of my craft, and that craft is building. To see something like a custom made car or motorcycle, something that had so much love and care put into it, see use, I just need to make one myself! I want to show them that I can make something better! Your puny thing will be NOTHING compared to what I can make! And it will be twice as loud, at least! Soon, I will be the one driving down the road, CUTTING YOU OFF IN THE FAST LANE PUNK!
10. Napping. If you give me an order to relax, to just, take a breather, I will take that order to heart. I will follow that order, for maybe the next two days if I must. Because who knows when the next time you can get the chance, right?
11. Cloudy days. He loves anything with an overcast in the sky, those he personally prefers the rain. Then he has a good reason to stay indoors.
12. Snow. The snow always adds a certain something to the world. And no, he doesn't just like it because it matches my hair color. The snow adds a quiet that just soothes the soul, and if it weren't so cold, he'd be out there with a desk, working on random things, just to enjoy the serenity.
13. Melancholy. This is what he feels most throughout his day, and dare say his life. So he learned to enjoy the emptiness eating away at the core of his being. It reminds him that at least he's alive.
14. Being alone. Being alone is where he feels most comfortable. Crowds, or even individuals, set him on edge, as if he can't trust them. He prefers to just stay away. Who knows what could happen in a crowd? You could be mugged, attacked for being different, attacked from all sides and nearly killed for something you deserve but still have yet to pay for...
15. Cosplay. This is not what you think, so do not dare judge me for this! I consider myself an artist of sorts, someone who loves to build and create things, including clothing. So naturally, I mean, it should be easy to see why I would love creating outfits, especially difficult things, like Gundam or other outfits from shows. While I do not actually watch shows, I do love recreating them... and maybe wearing them, just to see if they work! I mean, it is not like I enjoy hiding myself more with cool costumes, and pretending to me someone other than my depressing self...]
[1. Forgetful. His focus isn't the best, and tends to forget things he is not told multiple times.
2. Meek. He is a nervous person, and rarely stands up for himself, often getting taken advantage of by those he can't scare off with his mask.
3. Nervous. He is a worrying kind of person, and constantly tries too hard to get something done right, including what other he's near do.
4. Perfectionist. His motto is 'Do it right the first time, so you don't have to do it twice'. It drives him nuts to have to do things over, most because he is...
5. Lazy. He hates working, preferring to just sit back and watch the time go by, unless he is working on a project. And he loves working on projects. But there is nothing that beats doing nothing, when there is most certainly something you better you could be spending your time doing.
6. Over Exaggerated. He tends to let his emotions get the best of him at the best of times. This can make him seem over the top, as he doesn't hide his surprise confusion, or other reactions, aside from with his mask. This lets him pretend that he is still there. That he still feels something.
7. Depression. Connor is extremely depressed, and even little insults can send him spiraling down emotionally. They remind him that he was the one who survived, while no one else managed. He was the one who made it out alive, all because he had to handle it himself, instead of letting the shinigami deal with it. They could have lived...
8. Accident prone. He has the most unfortunate of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, leading to problems for everyone.
9. Missing an eye. Having one eye kinda makes it hard to see everything.
10. Triggered. Once something truly sets him off, he will go off without a care, attacking the thing that set him off without hesitation, forgetting many of his moral standing.
11. Alcoholic. He hates the stuff, that is true. That does not mean that he cannot still be addicted to the vile substance. Often times he can be found in a bar, trying desperately to drown his sorrows.
12. Suicidal. Connor is very unlikely to die by his own hand, but he is more likely to take certain risks towards himself. He will not stop fighting against a stronger opponent, even of it kills him.
13. Mentally unstable. Under large amounts of stress, Connor is prone to... crack. The results are far from pretty.
14. Thick headed. When he sees something that is... wrong, he tends to rush in. He does things on his own, tries to solve the issue on his own, never once thinking to ask someone for help until after the fact. This has caused many, many unfortunate incidents throughout his stay in the soul society.]
[1. Singing. Whenever he's alone, or at least thinks he's alone, he likes to sing sad songs to himself.
2. Praying for those who've fallen. Be it a dead friend, foe, or someone who's just fallen from grace, he will always pray for them, hoping for them to return to the right path.
3. Fixing broken things. Whenever he sees something along his path damaged or otherwise, he just has to fix it. The same goes for those who come to him with requests.
4. Skittish. Unless his job is forcing him to do otherwise, he will avoid others entirely, preferring to watch from the outside, at a distance.
5. Single minded. He generally focuses on one thing at a time, getting distracted easily with things outside of combat, and sometimes in it, trying to get one thing done at a time.
6. Connor tries to uphold a self given set of standards to live by. Always pray before meals, help those who are in need, do not lash out at the weak, protect those who cannot protect themselves, and do no fight those who are unable to defend themselves. He has done most of these, but he is sure he is lacking. If he was not, then why was he still such a failure?
7. Sleeping. Whenever he isn't working, he's probably off somewhere napping.
8. Scratching his eyepatch. At times his missing eye is back and looking around in his socket. He scratches it to make it hasn't magically returned, also doing so as a nervous habit.
9. Training. He might seem weak, but he refuses to be so. Lets others think what they want, he will not die the death of a sheep. He will live on, because that is what he deserves.
10. Helping others. While he might not enjoy the presence of others, he does enjoy helping those in need.]
[1. Being in large groups. He is a nervous person, so being surrounded by people is rough on him. His skin starts to crawl, his breathing starts to become sporadic, and he starts looking for a way out, especially if he somehow winds up in the middle by some unfortunate twist of fate.
2. Barn animals. Dirty, smelly, disgusting, repulsive creatures that should do their best to stay far away from him and his belongings! The reason for this strange, if rather minor fear, is a story from when he first arrived in the Seireitei, and to keep it brief, wound out with him being attacked by about fifty chickens.
3. Being out in the sun. As stated earlier, he has quite the pale complection. As such, he burns in the sun after only a few minutes, forcing himself to constantly be wearing something over his skin. Being the meeker person that he is, he constantly hides from the light as to avoid this.
4. Randomness. What do you do when can see something bad is about to happen? You plan against it. What happens when something bad happens that you can't see something bad is about to happen? Nothing, because you can't predict it. This leaves Connor in a near perpetual state of paranoia, and him trying to constantly avoid things that could surprise him.
5. You may think I hate to kill others, and I do. I hate seeing death and destruction. But that is not my biggest fear. I do not fear death, sparing me from that little piece of irony. No, what I fear is that I will start to enjoy it. My blade tells me, begs me, to kill. My weapon... the zanpakuto is a weapon made for war. It reflects the will of their master, and fights beside them when they ask. I do not think this is the same for me. Mine is not made for war. Mine is built to kill, to kill all. It begs to to kill all things. I fear that one day, I will end up doing just that, with a wicked smile on my face, laughing at the death I would sow.
6. Burning alive is considered one of, if not the most painful way to die, right? To.. to feel your flesh, char and break. That every move you make splits your burning skin. Yeah, if I had to die, I would avoid that death if at all possible. Not that I do not deserve it. That is why I am afraid of fire. You get burned when you play with something you can never truly control.]
[1. To conquer his fears. He is not a fearful person by choice, and his fear usually drives away normal people from wanting to be his friend. So in order to prevent that, his number one goal is to be braver. So that he can at least have a few friends to be with. So he does not have to be alone.
2. To be the best shinigami he can be. Connor might be lazy, extremely so, but that doesn't mean that he'd let someone suffer just so he can slack off. He wants to climb the ranks of the afterlife, so that he can go back to the world of the living and send everyone on to the next life. So they don't have to suffer any longer. But maybe not high enough to get saddled with paperwork. That'd be nice.
3. To find out who he once was in life. He hasn't completely forgotten who he used to be, random memories flash by from time to time, giving him a window to who he once was. Sometimes he likes who he sees, just an innocent young lad, with a single father. Most other times though, he sees a miserable child with two cruel looking parents. He wants to know what changed, and which of these two vision is the truth, if for no other reason than to sate his curiosity.
4. To help the denizens of the Rukongai. Connors good with his hands, and is in debt to the family who found him, it's only fair to repay that kindness. He's seen how miserable it can be in the lower districts, with crime that runs rampant to monsters in human form. He wants to find a way to aid them in anyway he can. Now all he needs are those who are willing to help.
5. Bridge a gateway from the living world, to the soul society. You might be wondering why he would want this, since the shinigami already have a way to the living world. Connor does not want something like that. He wants a gate that is constantly open, and something that can be used by both the dearly departed, and those yet to be. He wants a way for you to be able to travel back and forth uninhibited, so even if you lose your loved ones, you can always go visit them in the next world.]
Overall Personality: [Connor Greaves is not one who you would call a people person. In fact, he is as far from that as you can get with all his antisocial tendencies. He is someone who would make a home on the top of a mountain that oversaw a village, just so he could watch from a distance. He is the kind of person to bottle up everything inside, just so he wouldn't have to bother someone else with his problems. He is the guy who stands silently off to the side, just out of sight so he can be forgotten. And he prefers the melancholy that comes with solitude.
It is not that he hates people, far from it. He loves seeing the joy of others, to see a family happy together, loving life and enjoying everyday to the fullest. No, he doesn't hate seeing that. He only fears being apart of it. He has a sense of guilt, whenever he tries to join in, like a weight that never lets up. He sees life and peace as something fragile. He feels that even the lightest of touches could shatter apart before he could even grasp it. So he shies away, playing the observer towards something truly beautiful.
But then there are the ugly moments, the moments where humanity takes on a darker shade of black. The moments where the greatest monsters are not hollows, but humanity itself. Those moments.... those people who dare call themselves human after committing the most evil acts. Those moments he sees are times where Connor cannot stop himself from acting. He would throw himself into even the bleakest of situations, as long as he could save even a single innocent from harm. He is not someone who can turn a blind eye to any misdeeds he sees.
He would fight on until his final breath to protect those who need it. To help and save others is why he even bothered becoming a shinigami to begin with. He hates the title 'shinigami'. He is not a god of anything. Those people, the ghosts of those long dead... they are nowhere close to being gods. They are as mortal as he is, and he loathes them when they call themselves Shinigami. He is a soul reaper, a guide to the next life. Not a god of death. He is a protector of the living, not a machine for war and destruction, and he won't ever hide that fact.
He is extremely dedicated to that aspect of his job. To guide a soul to the next life is one of the only two parts of his duty he consistently follows. This includes 'slaying' hollows, though he has to constantly remind himself that he is not actually killing them, as he watches their bodies fall limply to the Earth below. He has to tell himself that they are in less pain because of his actions, that he is passing them on, as his mind replays every death cry he ever heard. Every drop of blood that splatters on the ground and even himself. He constantly reminds himself of that, fearing that he is becoming a simple minded murder everything he 'purifies' a hollow.
It is this fear that drives him to work so hard to earn the title 'defender of the living'. Whenever he is chosen to head to the living world, he will not only pass along spirits, but he also acts as a kind of hero of sorts. He will seek out injustice and put a stop to misdeeds he finds. He will actively try and prevent deaths from occurring, even if he is not required to do so in any sense. In fact, some shinigami might tell him to let the deaths happen, since they are only tasked to send spirits onto the afterlife. He refuses to do so.
Other than those two things, he is lazy in all other parts of his role as 'shinigami'. He does not care much for his fellow reaper brethren. Most of them bask in their own arrogance, thinking themselves higher than others, simply because of their role in death. They know nothing. They are no more or less important than a plus soul. They came not before hollows. In fact, they mimicked the hollow in a sense, as controversial as it was. Connor believes the shinigami came after the heartless humans, and only started passing along souls, only to prevent hollows from growing stronger than they already were.
To Connor, every soul is equal. No matter how strong one is, they all succumb to death eventually. This is why people should live to their fullest, to lives every day as best they can. While still maintaining Christian values. ANYWAY. He has a hard time practicing what he preaches in this department. While he would love to have friends, get along with his fellow man and woman, he is too afraid. He fears interaction, that he will be rejected and shunned by everyone. So he wears a mask. Both to keep his face hidden, and to scare off others. He knows in his heart that this is a foolish choice... but he can't keep the fear out.
He stutters when a he in unexpectedly talked to, or he simply remains silent and wide eyed. This only makes him look fearsome, with a scary eye looking down at those brave enough to approach him. He gets nervous so easily, he would rather others just leave him be. On the inside though, he just wants a friend to spend his time with. He would prefer someone forceful and determined to be his companion. That way, they would do most of the friendship parts. But that... that is just a pipe dream. He doubts highly that would happen. He is just a dreamer.
Betrayal is something he absolutely despises, almost more than anything in the world. It is unforgivable to him. To stab your friend in the back makes you question every moment you've ever spent with that person. It makes you wonder, 'was I just an opportunity to them'? It drives Connor mad. Another reason to keep his distance from people. If he were ever hurt in such a manner.... He knows not what he would do. He would most likely fly into a rage at the offender or offenders. He has not been angry beyond thought many times before, but those were always his most regretted moments.]
-Opening-
Password 1: [#Rekt(How, DARE YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME WRITE A 'HASHTAG'! I consider them the dipping point of the human mentality. The only people who use this are mind numbed teens, and adults who just do not understand how foolish these deplorable trends.)]
Password 2: [Guy's Jawline]
Type: [Perma release]
Squad: [9]
Rank: [1]
-Basic Information-
Name: [Connor Greaves]
Age of Death: [19]
Real Age/Age of Appearance: [23/19]
Birthday (Month/Day): [October second]
Blood Type: [AB]
-Appearance-
Height/Weight: [Seven foot one/Two hundred fourteen pounds]
Physical Description:
{Spoiler}{Spoiler}{Spoiler}
Connor is tall, very tall, but he is not exactly bulky, or anywhere near close to as bulky as a person his size should be. With a frail and almost sickly appearance, there are very few things he has going for him in the looks department. While not exactly skeletal in appearance, he is definitely lacking in mass, and thus he covers himself with multiple layers of clothing, not content with simply wearing the traditional shinigami garb, just to give himself a larger appearance. His skin is bone white, with his hair being an even paler shade, looking white as snow. While he used to be ridiculed for his looks once upon a time, he has since learned how to deal with it.
His solution? A Mask to hide the majority of his face. His left eye had been missing since before he entered the realm of the shinigami. His mask appears to be porcelain, taking on an old fox-like appearance used in Japan. More often than not, he also wears bandages around his lower face, just in case his mask falls off. It is not that he is all that ugly, in fact, he has a fairly handsome face. Aside from his slightly androgynous look, there really is not too much a reason for him to be wearing it. He wears it for a simple, but silly reason.
It is just that, every time he looks into a mirror, he gets flashes of another face, of a grinning madman. So familiar to him... This frightens Connor. He cares not to think about it, so he wears a mask to fend off those visions. He even cut his hair from how it used to look. It once touched down to the small of his back, but he since chopped it down to a more manageable level, no longer even touching his shoulders. It took a lot of effort to do so, and he even turned the leftovers into wigs for some balding men. Dyed to different colors, of course.
When not wearing his bandages or mask, he rarely looks calm, always wearing a nervous expression that suits him so well. While he might have cut away most of his ivory locks, he certainly kept enough to keep a Gothic look to him. His hair, drastically shortened as it may have been, has been left relatively long in the front and on the sides. His bangs frame his face, covering his ears completely. With how long Connor left the hair in front, he cover his eyes at all times should he feel like it, though he usually only covers his left eye for obvious reasons. He does have a tendency to cover them both when embarrassed however.
With a gangly looking body, he covers himself thoroughly. That, and because he burns easily. For a top, he wears a baggy black tee shirt over top of a skin tight black undershirt, with both tops going right down to the wrists, with a silver cross on a silver chain that hangs between the two shirts, that looks almost like a Quincy cross.. He wears black jeans, with a white belt to keep them up. Not a very impressive color palette, trust me, he realizes that, but there isn't much room for artistic choices while you're so low in the thirteen court guard squads. And if you must know, on duty, he wears those clothes underneath the normal garbs.
Forgoing the traditional socks with sandals, he wears black custom made boots, just like everything else he wears. It's hard to find decent clothing is size in the Rukongai, so he just makes them, having arrived with a knack for it. White socks hidden beneath both his boots and his pants grace his ankles to prevent a rash from the leather of his boots constantly rubbing against his skin with every step he takes. The only reason his mask doesn't do that same is because of an herbal blend that he learned off of an old lady he lived with.
Over top his hands, he wears wears white gloves. Redundant, seeing as his hands are paler than the fabric used to make them, but they keep the sun off his skin. Stitched into the back of his gloves are two phrases. on his left hand are the words 'Never forget your past'. Ironically, he hasn't been able to remember past waking up in the outer edges of the Rukongai. On his right hand are the words, 'Tis by grace you've been saved'. He sees those words as a reminder, so he never forgets that he really shouldn't be alive. Or was he alive, being in the soul society?
Anyway, he was found with over a dozen injuries, including every single rib being broken, his hands being torn to shreds, a single hole on each of his legs, and most of his back covered in a third degree burn. The scars have yet to go away, and no, they do not look pretty. In fact, the entirety of his back is still a huge red mass of crunched up skin, that is painful to look at, to touch, and still hurts Connor to this day when struck too hard. He assumes he died from the wound, but he somehow doubts it.
His eyes... er, eye, holds all the emotion that his face doesn't get to show. A dark red orb that glows bloody in the right lights, stares out at the world in longing. Connor would have preferred a dull blue, or even a boring brown instead of this frightening looking ball of an eye. His look can be called that of longing and sorrow almost every time he is seen, no matter the situation. But other times, when he is focused, it is that of an unyielding determination. A look that shows that he will not back down, no matter the consequences. When recollecting, it holds nothing but a bottomless pit of hate and rage though. He is very good at conveying his emotions with only his one eye. Not that he ever lets anyone see it.
-Personality-
Dislikes:
[1. Loud noises. He prefers a quiet atmosphere to a noisy one any day.
2. Surprises. Having a slightly meeker personality, he gets somewhat jumpy when something unexpected happens.
3. Bullies. Having been subject to these kinds of people during his earlier days in the outer districts, he has learned to hate this mind set people take on.
4. Acts of pointless violence. Yet another thing he's learned to loath, skirting around situations that might bring these up.
5. Bright days. Having fairer skin, he prefers the sun stay away, and off his person.
6. Rodents. Having to fend off these creatures, and keeping them away from your food is one thing, waking up in the middle of the night, only to feel them sharing your bed is another. "That night was not the only time I rebuilt the second floor of my apartment....
7. Thieves. These guys almost always know what they're doing, and it is hard chasing them down once they got what they wanted. And chasing people down is so much work for me. I hate running, and these guys never make it easy.
8. The number six. He doesn't understand why, but whenever he hears the number, it just grates on his mood, especially when you say it more than once.
9. Alcohol. The drink always manages to bring out the worst in people, and the sooner it is gone, the better. I have seen good men turn into monsters with nothing but a few drinks. Then again, what is the problem with having one? The drink only shows what is really there, so I should be fine...
10. Nobles. Those who gain their fortune off of another's legacy is someone who deserves to be gone and forgotten. I was not someone who was given anything in life. I had to earn it. While I know that there is a great deal of stereotyping with the lot, being prideful monsters, uncaring of those that are presumed to be below them, are there may certainly be those people out there, I still believe everyone deserves a chance to prove themselves. That being said, I loath prideful monsters who look down on other people for simply being born under less than idea conditions.
11. Traitors. These people are the worst, building up trust, only to stab their once allies on the back for whatever reason. I hate them. A wound of the flesh is a simple thing, something that can be healed with ease. Betrayal, now that is a wound that is deeper than any medical kido can reach. All good feelings, instantly turned to pain, like a knife to the heart, a stab the back, something you can never prepare yourself for.
12. Candy. These sugar filled treats tend to leave me feeling jittery, and leaving all of my teeth itchy. A terrible feeling.
13. The color green. Puke, slime, sickness, envy, oak leaves, what do all these have in common? That's right, green. Enough said.
14. Cursing. Only those with little words in their vocabulary resort to such vulgar language. I try to stay positive, keeping the mood free of such foul speech out of the air. It is easier said than done with some people...
15. Fighting. Oh how I hate to see others hurt, I just have to avoid it. Is there truly something wrong with good will towards men and peace on Earth? I try to defuse a situation non-violently, but some times... there is no other solution but to fight. And I refuse to take the blame for it one I draw my blade.
16. Being called a freak. This goes past a simple matter of dislike. He hate this phrase like no other. If you call me this, then I will not stop. Whatever issue I had with this word in a past life still haunts me. My skin starts to itch, my head starts to rush, like a dam bursting open in my head, every instinct of mine telling me... Kill them all.]
Likes:
[1. Cheese. The taste is like tasting a little slice of heaven. The real heaven. Cause the soul society? This sure is no heaven. I am unable to recall how or why I became addicted to the flavor, but it left an impact I have been unable to shake off, no matter how much I tell myself eating a pound of raw cheese is bad for my health.
2. Heaven. Somehow, against all odds, the one thing I remember in life aside from my name, is my faith. One day I will get there. One day...
3. My belongings. I do not own much in this horror of an afterlife. I might have at one point, but that is no longer the case. For a long while, keeping anything on my person was dangerous, pointless, or I was simply unable to take with me, so I make sure to cherish what little I have managed to take with me up until this point.
4. Singing. I try not to boast or brag, but I have been told by the few people have caught me in the act, that... well that I am pretty good at it. So, I suppose that if I can make someone happy with it, I should get some joy out of it too, right?
5. Fixing things. I admit, while being good with my hands is a blessing, and certainly tedious at times, it all becomes worth it to make something that would have been trashed, into something useful. To return purpose to something that had lost it due to a mistake, to keep it alive in the eyes of another.
6. Leaving on a high note. A satisfying ending is the best way to go, both in life, and in death.
7. The number seven. This is my lucky number, without a doubt. When someone mentions this number, it leaves me with an oddly warm glow inside.
8. Building things. On the same boat as fixing things, it leaves me in a happy mood to see something I worked so hard on finished.
9. Motor vehicles. It might seem a bit out of character for someone as... quiet as I am, but you must understand something. I am a man of my craft, and that craft is building. To see something like a custom made car or motorcycle, something that had so much love and care put into it, see use, I just need to make one myself! I want to show them that I can make something better! Your puny thing will be NOTHING compared to what I can make! And it will be twice as loud, at least! Soon, I will be the one driving down the road, CUTTING YOU OFF IN THE FAST LANE PUNK!
10. Napping. If you give me an order to relax, to just, take a breather, I will take that order to heart. I will follow that order, for maybe the next two days if I must. Because who knows when the next time you can get the chance, right?
11. Cloudy days. He loves anything with an overcast in the sky, those he personally prefers the rain. Then he has a good reason to stay indoors.
12. Snow. The snow always adds a certain something to the world. And no, he doesn't just like it because it matches my hair color. The snow adds a quiet that just soothes the soul, and if it weren't so cold, he'd be out there with a desk, working on random things, just to enjoy the serenity.
13. Melancholy. This is what he feels most throughout his day, and dare say his life. So he learned to enjoy the emptiness eating away at the core of his being. It reminds him that at least he's alive.
14. Being alone. Being alone is where he feels most comfortable. Crowds, or even individuals, set him on edge, as if he can't trust them. He prefers to just stay away. Who knows what could happen in a crowd? You could be mugged, attacked for being different, attacked from all sides and nearly killed for something you deserve but still have yet to pay for...
15. Cosplay. This is not what you think, so do not dare judge me for this! I consider myself an artist of sorts, someone who loves to build and create things, including clothing. So naturally, I mean, it should be easy to see why I would love creating outfits, especially difficult things, like Gundam or other outfits from shows. While I do not actually watch shows, I do love recreating them... and maybe wearing them, just to see if they work! I mean, it is not like I enjoy hiding myself more with cool costumes, and pretending to me someone other than my depressing self...]
Flaws:
[1. Forgetful. His focus isn't the best, and tends to forget things he is not told multiple times.
2. Meek. He is a nervous person, and rarely stands up for himself, often getting taken advantage of by those he can't scare off with his mask.
3. Nervous. He is a worrying kind of person, and constantly tries too hard to get something done right, including what other he's near do.
4. Perfectionist. His motto is 'Do it right the first time, so you don't have to do it twice'. It drives him nuts to have to do things over, most because he is...
5. Lazy. He hates working, preferring to just sit back and watch the time go by, unless he is working on a project. And he loves working on projects. But there is nothing that beats doing nothing, when there is most certainly something you better you could be spending your time doing.
6. Over Exaggerated. He tends to let his emotions get the best of him at the best of times. This can make him seem over the top, as he doesn't hide his surprise confusion, or other reactions, aside from with his mask. This lets him pretend that he is still there. That he still feels something.
7. Depression. Connor is extremely depressed, and even little insults can send him spiraling down emotionally. They remind him that he was the one who survived, while no one else managed. He was the one who made it out alive, all because he had to handle it himself, instead of letting the shinigami deal with it. They could have lived...
8. Accident prone. He has the most unfortunate of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, leading to problems for everyone.
9. Missing an eye. Having one eye kinda makes it hard to see everything.
10. Triggered. Once something truly sets him off, he will go off without a care, attacking the thing that set him off without hesitation, forgetting many of his moral standing.
11. Alcoholic. He hates the stuff, that is true. That does not mean that he cannot still be addicted to the vile substance. Often times he can be found in a bar, trying desperately to drown his sorrows.
12. Suicidal. Connor is very unlikely to die by his own hand, but he is more likely to take certain risks towards himself. He will not stop fighting against a stronger opponent, even of it kills him.
13. Mentally unstable. Under large amounts of stress, Connor is prone to... crack. The results are far from pretty.
14. Thick headed. When he sees something that is... wrong, he tends to rush in. He does things on his own, tries to solve the issue on his own, never once thinking to ask someone for help until after the fact. This has caused many, many unfortunate incidents throughout his stay in the soul society.]
Habits:
[1. Singing. Whenever he's alone, or at least thinks he's alone, he likes to sing sad songs to himself.
2. Praying for those who've fallen. Be it a dead friend, foe, or someone who's just fallen from grace, he will always pray for them, hoping for them to return to the right path.
3. Fixing broken things. Whenever he sees something along his path damaged or otherwise, he just has to fix it. The same goes for those who come to him with requests.
4. Skittish. Unless his job is forcing him to do otherwise, he will avoid others entirely, preferring to watch from the outside, at a distance.
5. Single minded. He generally focuses on one thing at a time, getting distracted easily with things outside of combat, and sometimes in it, trying to get one thing done at a time.
6. Connor tries to uphold a self given set of standards to live by. Always pray before meals, help those who are in need, do not lash out at the weak, protect those who cannot protect themselves, and do no fight those who are unable to defend themselves. He has done most of these, but he is sure he is lacking. If he was not, then why was he still such a failure?
7. Sleeping. Whenever he isn't working, he's probably off somewhere napping.
8. Scratching his eyepatch. At times his missing eye is back and looking around in his socket. He scratches it to make it hasn't magically returned, also doing so as a nervous habit.
9. Training. He might seem weak, but he refuses to be so. Lets others think what they want, he will not die the death of a sheep. He will live on, because that is what he deserves.
10. Helping others. While he might not enjoy the presence of others, he does enjoy helping those in need.]
Fears:
[1. Being in large groups. He is a nervous person, so being surrounded by people is rough on him. His skin starts to crawl, his breathing starts to become sporadic, and he starts looking for a way out, especially if he somehow winds up in the middle by some unfortunate twist of fate.
2. Barn animals. Dirty, smelly, disgusting, repulsive creatures that should do their best to stay far away from him and his belongings! The reason for this strange, if rather minor fear, is a story from when he first arrived in the Seireitei, and to keep it brief, wound out with him being attacked by about fifty chickens.
3. Being out in the sun. As stated earlier, he has quite the pale complection. As such, he burns in the sun after only a few minutes, forcing himself to constantly be wearing something over his skin. Being the meeker person that he is, he constantly hides from the light as to avoid this.
4. Randomness. What do you do when can see something bad is about to happen? You plan against it. What happens when something bad happens that you can't see something bad is about to happen? Nothing, because you can't predict it. This leaves Connor in a near perpetual state of paranoia, and him trying to constantly avoid things that could surprise him.
5. You may think I hate to kill others, and I do. I hate seeing death and destruction. But that is not my biggest fear. I do not fear death, sparing me from that little piece of irony. No, what I fear is that I will start to enjoy it. My blade tells me, begs me, to kill. My weapon... the zanpakuto is a weapon made for war. It reflects the will of their master, and fights beside them when they ask. I do not think this is the same for me. Mine is not made for war. Mine is built to kill, to kill all. It begs to to kill all things. I fear that one day, I will end up doing just that, with a wicked smile on my face, laughing at the death I would sow.
6. Burning alive is considered one of, if not the most painful way to die, right? To.. to feel your flesh, char and break. That every move you make splits your burning skin. Yeah, if I had to die, I would avoid that death if at all possible. Not that I do not deserve it. That is why I am afraid of fire. You get burned when you play with something you can never truly control.]
Goals:
[1. To conquer his fears. He is not a fearful person by choice, and his fear usually drives away normal people from wanting to be his friend. So in order to prevent that, his number one goal is to be braver. So that he can at least have a few friends to be with. So he does not have to be alone.
2. To be the best shinigami he can be. Connor might be lazy, extremely so, but that doesn't mean that he'd let someone suffer just so he can slack off. He wants to climb the ranks of the afterlife, so that he can go back to the world of the living and send everyone on to the next life. So they don't have to suffer any longer. But maybe not high enough to get saddled with paperwork. That'd be nice.
3. To find out who he once was in life. He hasn't completely forgotten who he used to be, random memories flash by from time to time, giving him a window to who he once was. Sometimes he likes who he sees, just an innocent young lad, with a single father. Most other times though, he sees a miserable child with two cruel looking parents. He wants to know what changed, and which of these two vision is the truth, if for no other reason than to sate his curiosity.
4. To help the denizens of the Rukongai. Connors good with his hands, and is in debt to the family who found him, it's only fair to repay that kindness. He's seen how miserable it can be in the lower districts, with crime that runs rampant to monsters in human form. He wants to find a way to aid them in anyway he can. Now all he needs are those who are willing to help.
5. Bridge a gateway from the living world, to the soul society. You might be wondering why he would want this, since the shinigami already have a way to the living world. Connor does not want something like that. He wants a gate that is constantly open, and something that can be used by both the dearly departed, and those yet to be. He wants a way for you to be able to travel back and forth uninhibited, so even if you lose your loved ones, you can always go visit them in the next world.]
Alignment: [Lawful Good]
Overall Personality: [Connor Greaves is not one who you would call a people person. In fact, he is as far from that as you can get with all his antisocial tendencies. He is someone who would make a home on the top of a mountain that oversaw a village, just so he could watch from a distance. He is the kind of person to bottle up everything inside, just so he wouldn't have to bother someone else with his problems. He is the guy who stands silently off to the side, just out of sight so he can be forgotten. And he prefers the melancholy that comes with solitude.
It is not that he hates people, far from it. He loves seeing the joy of others, to see a family happy together, loving life and enjoying everyday to the fullest. No, he doesn't hate seeing that. He only fears being apart of it. He has a sense of guilt, whenever he tries to join in, like a weight that never lets up. He sees life and peace as something fragile. He feels that even the lightest of touches could shatter apart before he could even grasp it. So he shies away, playing the observer towards something truly beautiful.
But then there are the ugly moments, the moments where humanity takes on a darker shade of black. The moments where the greatest monsters are not hollows, but humanity itself. Those moments.... those people who dare call themselves human after committing the most evil acts. Those moments he sees are times where Connor cannot stop himself from acting. He would throw himself into even the bleakest of situations, as long as he could save even a single innocent from harm. He is not someone who can turn a blind eye to any misdeeds he sees.
He would fight on until his final breath to protect those who need it. To help and save others is why he even bothered becoming a shinigami to begin with. He hates the title 'shinigami'. He is not a god of anything. Those people, the ghosts of those long dead... they are nowhere close to being gods. They are as mortal as he is, and he loathes them when they call themselves Shinigami. He is a soul reaper, a guide to the next life. Not a god of death. He is a protector of the living, not a machine for war and destruction, and he won't ever hide that fact.
He is extremely dedicated to that aspect of his job. To guide a soul to the next life is one of the only two parts of his duty he consistently follows. This includes 'slaying' hollows, though he has to constantly remind himself that he is not actually killing them, as he watches their bodies fall limply to the Earth below. He has to tell himself that they are in less pain because of his actions, that he is passing them on, as his mind replays every death cry he ever heard. Every drop of blood that splatters on the ground and even himself. He constantly reminds himself of that, fearing that he is becoming a simple minded murder everything he 'purifies' a hollow.
It is this fear that drives him to work so hard to earn the title 'defender of the living'. Whenever he is chosen to head to the living world, he will not only pass along spirits, but he also acts as a kind of hero of sorts. He will seek out injustice and put a stop to misdeeds he finds. He will actively try and prevent deaths from occurring, even if he is not required to do so in any sense. In fact, some shinigami might tell him to let the deaths happen, since they are only tasked to send spirits onto the afterlife. He refuses to do so.
Other than those two things, he is lazy in all other parts of his role as 'shinigami'. He does not care much for his fellow reaper brethren. Most of them bask in their own arrogance, thinking themselves higher than others, simply because of their role in death. They know nothing. They are no more or less important than a plus soul. They came not before hollows. In fact, they mimicked the hollow in a sense, as controversial as it was. Connor believes the shinigami came after the heartless humans, and only started passing along souls, only to prevent hollows from growing stronger than they already were.
To Connor, every soul is equal. No matter how strong one is, they all succumb to death eventually. This is why people should live to their fullest, to lives every day as best they can. While still maintaining Christian values. ANYWAY. He has a hard time practicing what he preaches in this department. While he would love to have friends, get along with his fellow man and woman, he is too afraid. He fears interaction, that he will be rejected and shunned by everyone. So he wears a mask. Both to keep his face hidden, and to scare off others. He knows in his heart that this is a foolish choice... but he can't keep the fear out.
He stutters when a he in unexpectedly talked to, or he simply remains silent and wide eyed. This only makes him look fearsome, with a scary eye looking down at those brave enough to approach him. He gets nervous so easily, he would rather others just leave him be. On the inside though, he just wants a friend to spend his time with. He would prefer someone forceful and determined to be his companion. That way, they would do most of the friendship parts. But that... that is just a pipe dream. He doubts highly that would happen. He is just a dreamer.
Betrayal is something he absolutely despises, almost more than anything in the world. It is unforgivable to him. To stab your friend in the back makes you question every moment you've ever spent with that person. It makes you wonder, 'was I just an opportunity to them'? It drives Connor mad. Another reason to keep his distance from people. If he were ever hurt in such a manner.... He knows not what he would do. He would most likely fly into a rage at the offender or offenders. He has not been angry beyond thought many times before, but those were always his most regretted moments.]
{powers}
Fighting Style: [I am not a very motivated person. For fighting, it is even worse. I hate fighting, and violence in general. I consider myself, not a pacifist, but as close to one as I can with my occupation. I hate to see the death of another, loath it in fact. That is why I try my best to go for disabling strikes, like in the joints, or weak areas of the body, being the temples, or hitting at 'the button', as boxers call it, as it reminds them of the off button for a person, turning them off like a light.
Due to my zanpakuto however, leaving my opponents alive is exceedingly difficult. That is why, I have chosen to fight with it sheathed for anything that is not more powerful than I am. When I fight like this, I am to end a fight as quickly as I possibly can, lest I be forced to draw that a cursed blade. I detest it to such a degree, that I refuse to fight with it, even in a sealed state. Instead, I club my opponents with debilitating strikes, hoping to beat them down enough that they are unable to fight me any longer.
It is foolish, but I have my morals, as well as principles. If I do not have to kill something, then it does not die, and that is that. However, there are those that are either too powerful for me to hold back like that on, or no longer deserve to enjoy their last waking moments. Do not misunderstand, I am a merciful person, willing to help almost anyone. But that is not weakness. I am also very lazy. I hate fighting. I hate moving too much. I am quite the slothful person, and that is probably my worst flaw, or at least it is to me.
When I finally do draw my repulsive weapon, there are only two things that I do in fights. The first, is strike them, and make sure they are affected by its ability. The second, is stall and wait. I let the powers work as intended, and slowly... kill them. Not matter how they beg or plead, I will not stop. It, will not stop. If it has gotten to the point that I have been forced to draw Tamashī, then I can reasonably say, that I have given them every chance to cease and desist. It is their own fault for what happens after that point, not mine.
For the ones that especially deserve to suffer for their sins, for the few that manage to make me snap in rage, then I cannot afford to be lazy. My fighting style, my mindset, changes from 'disabling them for a time', to, wiping them from this world as fast as I can. I start aiming for more fatal strikes, silting of the throat, a blade through the ribs, a sword through the limb, I go for the most damaging attack I can go for in the moment. I hate this, I hate them, and my laziness shines through. I do my best to make the fights as short as I can. It is better that way.
Because of how my blade works, I have taken to becoming a melee specialist, preferring close quarters combat to any other form. I find that to be the most 'honorable' form of fighting, letting each of you the opportunity to prove yourselves strong beyond certain 'equalizers'. Though I suppose that it would be hypocritical of me to judge someone poorly for using a firearm given my past. Very hypocritical of me, since at some point in the future, I intend to give myself the same advantage, fighting with guns like any other soldier, in any other army.
As regrettable as it is that I would have to use them, I need every advantage I need in a fight. There are things out there in this world... in every world, that I know I am not strong enough to fight. Things that, no matter how fast, or strong, or skilled I become, there are beings that I will never beat fairly. So, to ensure that I survive, I will use whatever it takes to live out this pathetic life of mine. When I do get them, not that I plan on getting them any time soon, I plan on having lots of them. Made by me! If I have any of those things, then they will meet my standards!
When I fight with firearms, I use primarily my left arm to shoot, while my sword is used by by right, making for a good duality. When my only weapon is a gun, I try to keep enemies around ten to twenty feet away, with that range being my reliable zone of accuracy. Depth perception is not my forte. I know that I am weak, strength-wise anyway, so when I bring out guns, preferably a single pistol, it is generally for fights where I am unable to use my sword, or when my opponents are too fast for me to reliably keep up with.
I never bothered to learn
When I have no weapons, a truly terrifying thought for me, I am forced to rely on my body and martial skill to protect me. I have little in the way of that, having learned how to fight on my own in the lower districts. Picking up street fighting for the few times where my weapons failed to protect me, and even mixing them with my other weapon styles. My street fighting ability relies and focuses on tripping up my foes, and striking them in the softer parts of the body, primarily the head as they fall. I favor kicks, aiming at the ankles and knees, doing my best to make them fall. I do so in a desperate manner, knowing that this is my weakest combat style. I lash out like a wild animal, my reliance on pure skill is nearly forgotten, only striking at whatever will cause the most damage.
I am fairly specialized in my attack style. That style being attack. The best defense is an unstoppable offence. I rush in, trying to end the fight before it can be started. That is why I rarely use bakudo, aside from the fact that my own magic is exceptionally weak. I know I am unable to make decent defense, so I do not use it. Hado on the other hand... well, an exploding fireball is an exploding fireball, regardless how powerful you are. As stated earlier, my aim is not the best in a fight, so I use Kido up close, where them dodging fireballs is less likely.
I lack a sufficient way to fight with enemies that prefer to take to fighting me at a distance, though I cannot blame them for that. I have three options for people like this. The first is to fight fire with fire, the least likely option for me. This is where I try to match them at their own game, shooting hado and or my guns at them, while moving around dodging attacks the best I can with my barely average speed. This is the least chosen option, because I am not the best of shots while moving around like a madman. That, and they will most defiantly have the advantage, who uses long ranged attacks up close.
The second most likely of my choices, is to, quite obviously, get in close. As mid to melee range is my comfort zone for fighting, it should be no surprise that I choose to try to get within it. When running to them, using whatever method I have available to me, be it shunpo or something else, I fire attacks at them, trying to keep them moving, and unable to attack me before I can get within reliable striking range. I hate fighting these opponents, because I feel like they have less respect for their opponents, not letting their foes fight back.
My third option, and my most preferred choice when faced with someone with high range... is to leave. I know that these fights are difficult to win, especially without suffering an injury, so whenever possible, I just leave. If I do not need to fight someone, then I will not bother. I am not one of those battle maniacs, I do not enjoy fights, or hurting people. I avoid confrontation when I can. If I am unable, then so be it, but I will not prolong the violence or suffering. I refuse to fall into that trap.
I prefer fighting with both my hands on my zanpakuto, or whatever sword I may use. I use style and skill whenever I can, not liking to resort to brute force on any issue that does not require it. I like those who can wield their weapons with the finesse, those who have mastered themselves along with their chosen weapon. Those who only swing huge hunks of metal around, or decide that they need a bazooka to kill an ant get on my nerves. There comes a time where you will be unable to rely on that strength. It just bothers me to see a weapon wasted on people like that.]
Connor has two zanpakuto spirits, each having a separate name, outside of their release name. The first is the one that he likes, who's company Connor actually enjoys, for the most part. He calls this one Hope. Hope is a small creature, barely standing five inches tall. Hope is a kind and gentle little thing, but is terribly shy. Hope sounds like a young child with a gender neutral voice, making it impossible to tell if it's a boy or a girl. The small creature is humanoid in nature, and is made of a glowing blue energy. There are no features on their face, but they are exceedingly good at body language, so anyone can tell what they are thinking.
Hope is the light of Connor's world, the one light of good that keeps Connor from breaking down, from returning back to what he was like when he was a human. Both spirits remember Connor's Life perfectly. While Hope might be afraid of what Connor once was, they don't hold that against them. They encourage Connor to abandon their past and look towards the future. They also try to convince Connor to give up. Hope doesn't want Connor to feel any more pain, so the tiny spirit tries to reason with the shinigami. They try to tell him that they've earned their final sleep.
Hope wants Connor to die. Hope wants what's best for him, and genuinely believes that death is the best option. Every conversation the two have together always ends with Hope trying to talk him into it, to just die. Connor always has to tell Hope that he can't, that it isn't his time. That's when Hope starts to get desperate. They try their best to talk him into it, going so far as to desperately beg and cry. Eventually they give up, either running away crying, or sulking off, saying something about not learning from the first time. It eats away at Connor, because Hope makes him feel guilty for not doing it.
His second spirit is practically the opposite in every aspect. He calls this spirit Despair. Unlike Hope, who sounded like both genders, Despair sounds like Connor, only more.... alive. Despair is a shadow, a shade, a ghost that haunts his inner world. Connor has never gotten a good look at him, because he always disappears once he seems him. The specter vanishes from sight once you start looking for him, but is always close behind him. This spirit is cruel to Connor. He values nothing that Connor holds dear in the world. This spirit loves only destruction and carnage.
Whenever Connor isn't speaking to Hope, despair 'shows up', to have his own conversation with the master of the two. He speaks in only whispers, talking to Connor in chilled breaths that brush his ears. He constantly reminds the shinigami how worthless he is, letting him know that he's no better than he was in life. How he learned nothing from dying. He is able to cause Connor flashbacks to memories that Connor feels nothing but embarrassment or guilt over, and constantly replay them. He doesn't tell Connor to die though. No, he gives him a better way out.
Kill everyone else instead.
A conversation not go exactly perfect? It makes it so you don't have to deal with them again. Being hunted down by your own brothers in arms? Makes it so you don't have to deal with the reality you're currently in. Because unlike Hope, Despair wants Connor to live. He wants Connor to live each and every day in absolute anguish and self loathing. He's the one who constantly tells Connor to give in to his hate, to just let the world burn for what they did to him, always taunting him with the past. He always bargains with him, saying 'just kill this one thing, and I'll tell you all about who you really were'.
One thing that these two have in common is that they're never able to be seen together, or at least don't talk while one another is in the area. If Hope is in sight, Despair will not utter a sound. The moment Hope is no longer visible, he will start whispering in Connor's ear again. The two don't even acknowledge each other's existence. If asked, they will only say, 'I am the only one here, are you sure you aren't hearing things?'. The voices are strong, able to communicate with Connor even in his everyday life, intentionally pushing him closer and closer to the edge.]
[Connor's inner world is a fairly simple one. In the middle is a small patch of grass, maybe fifteen feet all around. In the middle of that, there are four tombstones, and a perfectly rectangular hole before one of them. The rightmost tombstone says Steven Greaves for a name, with not date of death. To the left of that has the name Jamie Greaves. The leftmost stone was shaped like a cross, and says "Here lies Alexander Smith, priest, friend, and father. May he be in the Lord's kind embrace." To the right of that one was another cross one. On it stated simply, "Connor Greaves", though sometimes the name would change from the corner of his eye for a split second. Beyond this small patch, there is nothing but darkness.]
Zanpakutou Release Names
Tamashī is a weapon in the most literal sense. It will corrupt all things standing in its path, be it friend or foe, it cares not. This is not something to train with, and not something that can be used carelessly by Connor. Tamashī is a poison as destructive as they come, consuming and twisting all those who are unfortunate enough to be touched by it. Tamashī creates a slimy black liquid that is all too eager to show exactly what it can do. Once this makes contact with something without spiritual capabilities, it start taking effect immediately.
The poison dissolves into its victims, seeping into them, and corrupting them to the bone. Once it has dissolved, it starts to warp and change them, turning everything to the nightmares Connor fears the most. The zanpakuto warps things, giving them new deranged properties. The concrete floors of the city can take the form of dried out humans, wailing out in anguish, trying to claim more for the foundation, while the earth takes on a darker, harder form, harder than most metals. Trees and plant life grow faces, angry at all creation, happily trying to infect the ones who cut them down for the most trivial of things. Animals gain a devilish appearance, and start to go rabid, attacking anything that has not yet been affected.
Buildings become nightmare fuel, taunting you as you waste away at a society you can never escape from, while their doors become portals to anywhere. People, normal people anyway, lose all sense of self, as they become something akin to a zombie, with their eyes shrunken, and their skin like tanned prunes. But, despite how everyone looks, the people are still the same on the inside. The living beings are still conscious for the entirety of this process, even as they lose control of themselves.
In spite of how quickly the poison spreads, the actual change is very slow, at least in comparison. The poison still acts like any other. If you have a resistance to poison, it changes you slower. With that in mind, the entire transformation takes two posts to fully complete for non-spiritual beings or objects. Anything without any remaining reiatsu will be changed instantly, regardless of resistances. If anything poisoned dies while under the effects of the poison, or are killed by the sword, will be changing instantly as well.
Spiritual beings are only slightly better off, depending on your perspective. Spiritual beings, thanks to the strength of their souls, can resist the effects of this. To a degree. The poison will still spread as fast as it does on anything else, but the change is slowed down exponentially. The process is painful, and only those with a two or more in pain resistance can fight without an issue during it. The transformation will begin from where the poison first touched you, and travel further each post. This takes ten posts to fully complete.
After four posts of a full transformation, or the transformed parts of you, vanish, as if you were never there, including the affected environment. Anything that vanishes like this is tied to Connor's zanpakuto indefinitely. Whenever Connor uses his release, whatever vanished due to the poison can reappear. Enemies can stall this poison by paying 200 per post. However, for every post that it is stalled, the cost is increased by 100, meaning by post five, the cost would be 700 reiatsu. By letting the poison progress, it resets the cost to stall it.
Repeated exposure to the poison cuts another post from the victim's remaining time till transformation. Those with a 2 in poison resist take twice as long to transform, while a three will be completely immune, save for being killed by the blade or one of the zombies. Knocking Connor out or killing him is the easiest way to cure yourself of the poison. If you want to cure it with regular healing, you need to have an ability with both higher healing than his offensive strength, or a tech two classes higher than his release. Beings created by the poison can only infect those they have a 50% stat superiority over, or 2 classes over.]
Tamashī produces a thick, inky black liquid that coats his blade in a slick sheen, giving it a wet and nightmarish appearance. This liquid is a poison that instantly begins to coat whatever it touches, and whatever is touching that, and so on, trying to cover everything in its wake, traveling with high speed speeds, equal to 300. Once it touches something, it will latch onto the surface, dissolving into the object after a mere moment, often appearing as a thin black wave due to how fast is. This travels fifteen feet from where the blade first touched, traveling all surfaces connected to it.
At this stage, the properties aren't at that grand of a scale, but are still a terror to be subjected to. For every race, there is a different effect that applies to them. For the human race, the plain, vanilla, powerless human race, they probably have it the worst. Once the poison sinks into them, they are subject to intense pain, leaving them as writhing messes on the ground until they're completely transformed. Once fully transformed, they become what are essentially zombies. At this point, they will begin to attack anything moving in sight, save for Connor. These zombies have a strength, speed, senses, and instinct stat of 100 each.
They will spread their pain and misery around, their very touch spreading the poison, before they vanish into Tamashī after the forth post after transformation. As stated earlier, Tamashī does not care who falls to its power, so naturally, Shinigami do not escape this horror. They too will be subject to inhuman pain, though they will be able to fight it off if they have a two in pain resistance. For them though, the end result is far different. Once transformed, they will become something resembling a decaying corpse. They retain their features, unlike the human masses, but they look pale and blue. Their clothes will be gone, and replaced with garbs befitting of the grim reaper, while keeping their weapons and zanpakuto.
They will have all their stats, but will start hunting down the weakest beings in their sights, save for their 'master'. Their blades will carry the same effects as Connor's. Hollows, something Connor will reluctantly draw his blade for, will change into specters, shadowy and translucent, looking truly ghost-like. Unlike nearly every other race, these will exclusively hunt down other hollows, spreading the poison only to them, ignoring all else, including the buildings. Rouges act as the shinigami do.
Beast Clans don't receive much when transformed, but it is still scary enough. They will become giant versions for whatever animal they take after. For example, a wolf beast clan would become a massive, twenty foot monster, attacking anything and everything that moved, with anything it touched spreading Connor's poison like a plague, and anything it killed changing as well. For fullbringers, they warp into mutant versions of themselves, barely recognizable to those that knew them prior. They can end up looking any number of ways, maybe purple skin, glowing green eyes, backwards heads, who knows. They, just like nearly every other race, will go on a rampage, however, the talents of fullbringers don't go to waste here.
The fullbringers will use their bringer powers to manipulate the souls in the air to create deadly purple gasses, as they continue their four post journey. Quincy receive a special treatment, being one of the races Connor likes the least. He considers them witches, and as such, their transformation is simply them being on fire, forcing them to endure the sensation of perpetually burning, with no chance for reprieve until they vanish into his zanpakuto. Bounts are leeches and vampires to Connor, so they start to grey and thin out. The rampage they go on will target the people with the highest sprp, and attempt to drain them with fangs they did not have previously.
Mod souls, basically being robots, become featureless chrome dolls, attacking the smallest people first, spreading their poison only through contact with metal. Arrancar will suffer the same fate as the hollow, as will vizard, attacking only hollows, or members of their own races. Failures will die the moment that the poison touches them. Any Hell race will be turned into laughing demons, standing twenty feet tall. They will attack those with evil souls first, carrying the same effects as Tamashī. Any ability weaker than the liquid, will be turned into poison and destroyed.
The earth itself is not free from Connor's weapon. Buildings will come to life, laughing and taunting anyone they can. Their doorways will send any who pass through them through any other doorway. Affecting whole building isn't generally something Connor accomplishes, but a transformation doesn't need to be complete to carry their effects. Motor vehicles become living monster versions of themselves, crashing into anything, mainly other vehicles, with a speed and strength of 300, with instinct and senses of 50.
The ground beneath them, and any that they kill, become subject to Tamashī's effects. Ground that has been altered by man, mostly tarmac and concrete will become a sea of shrunken humans, grabbing at anyone unturned with a speed and strength of 300, trying to drag them down into the mass, while still acting as ground for Connor's. Unworked ground will become Connor's, and will be unusable to anyone else's abilities, unless their power is stronger than his spiritual stat.
Trees hiss and swipe at anyone close to them, with 200 speed and strength, and animals run after any and all uninfected, with speed, strength, instinct, and senses at 300. All spiritual beings will retain their stats for the duration of transformation. A transformed being carries all the spreading effects of Tamashī. The poison will spread fifteen feet from where the blade touches. Beings will not attack Connor, but will not obey him either. After the four posts of transformation is over, the transformed will be absorbed into Tamashī instantly, with their soul passing on as they should.
Those who managed to get away with a partial transformation will lose the affected areas. Anything else not mentioned will simply be transformed into an evil version of itself and be unable to harm Connor, while spreading the poison to all they touch. Anything Transformed will have the same durability as his release stat. If one has an offensive stat superiority, they will be immune to the poison, unless the poison has a two class superiority. Getting struck three times with the poison however, will negate this and infect them regardless. ]
[1. Collected Souls: This weapon is a collector of bodies, stealing and taking all that it touches, and using them for Connor, whether he wants it to or not. This power is quite the terrifying one for Connor. This is probably the only defensive ability in this blasted blade of his, though on the surface, it certainly does not seem to be that. Speaking of surfaces, the only one he can use this ability on, is himself, and it is quite painful. By activating this ability, something terrifying begins to happen. Connor starts to spawn a zombie.
Once activated, one or more of those he has slain begins to crawl out of his body, from a location of his choice. This starts slowly, taking its time to free itself from Connor, taking three posts to fully spawn from Connor. While it may look like it is coming directly from Connor, the truth is that Tamashī really likes to give a good performance, a show off if you would. When Tamashī, the blade, touches anything, the poison spreads in every direction. Including over Connor. Thankfully, Connor is immune, or he would die so very quickly.
Instead, the poison, with a little extra reiatsu put into it, starts to pool on Connor, since the poison refuses to absorb into him anyway. This makes a tiny pool for the bodies, the zombies, to start to be created from. Before they are fully transformed, fully created, Connor has full control of the body, sharing senses with it. These zombies are special. Not only can they be from any race that he has killed, but when they are reborn, they are made strong. Their physical stats are chosen depending on what Connor needs.
The souls have 500 in both of their physicals. They also share Connors sensory stats. This ability costs 200 reiatsu, and after zombie is fully spawned, it costs 100 reiatsu per post. Initial cost is multiplied by however many he chooses to create at once, max three. If Connor does not have at least a 1 in pain tolarance, he will not be able to fight while this tech is active. Can be used in both shikai and in bankai.]
This starts to give life back to the dead, letting them walk about, creating slaves for Tamashī to have fun with, and to cause poor Connor more mental scarring. The minions are powerful, more so than one might expect. With high durability, his bankai, and physical stats equal to both his spiritual stats combined then split evenly between strength and speed, and
sharing Connor's sensory stats, these abominations are extremely hard to kill. They attack without care for defense, knowing that they live only to serve, not having the will to turn on the one that slew them. For each one summoned, it takes 500 reiatsu from Connor. They last for five posts, and can create only three per post.
2. Poisoned wave: This is Connor's only ranged attack in release. By charging his blade with a bit of reiatsu, some of the poison will gather on it. By flicking his blade or slashing, a large crescent wave will fly in whatever direction he attacks at. This blade will cut anything it touches, as well as spread more poison. The crescent flies at a speed of 800, and cuts with the force of his highest spiritual stat. Anything it makes contact with will have its infection accelerated by three posts. This will also turn weaker abilities into poison. Costs 150 reiatsu, and can also be used in shikai.
3. Closing Pandora's Box: Connor does not like his Zanpakuto. In fact, it is one of the few things he truly hates. It causes rampant destruction, leaving everything that get too close to him dead and dying. Tamashī likewise hates Connor. It considers its master to be weak willed and foolish for not embracing the gifts that it gives him. This ability it the pinnacle of their hatred for one another. With this, Connor reseals all of the evil that comes from his weapon, dragging all the poison and monsters to his blade instantly.
But Tamashī does not let this happen without a cost. In order for Connor to do this, he must wait seven posts from when he first poisons something, making sure Connor suffers for drawing them in the first place. In order for Connor to use this ability, he must sheath Tamashī. Once sheathed, Connor cannot redraw his zanpakuto for two posts. Using this ability also costs a quarter of his maximum reiatsu. Anything not fully transformed, or in the process of transforming, will be completely unharmed.]
Mask Appearance: [Connor never gets things easy, especially when it comes to his powers. In fact, this mask seemingly decided to go along with how his spirits act in the face of death: embrace it wholeheartedly. And the expression on the face of this thing certainly says that it does. This has the face of a skull, even comes with a hole for the nose. While the right half is a generic looking skull, the left half has enough personality to make up for its boring, right side counterpart, holding it in spades.
The left half if the face, the left eye socket is warped, twisted into what could be an oddly sympathetic look, as if trying to seem apologetic for what it intends on doing to you. The teeth are shifted to an inhuman degree as well, but to the opposite effect. Where the eye is at least TRYING to seem nice, the jaw decided to set the rows of blunted teeth in that of an ugly sneer, with all of them set... wrong, giving the mask a cartoonish feel to it. There is one other feature on the mask. A large, black hand print is smeared over the entire mask, with the thumb over his left temple.]
Ressurection Appearance:
Ressurection Powers: [Bones are the things that Connor commands when forced into this state. The creation of bones is a simple one for him, for obvious reasons, so he controls them with a frightening ease. He is able to make any bone from any creature, able to animate it to do what he commands of it. He can create enough bones to replicate an entire person. Each bone has the strength of his reiatsu strength, and is just as durable. Making individual bones is easy, costing only 100 reiatsu. A full skeleton costs 300, and maintaining that costs 200 per post. Connor controls every skeleton through a mental link, splitting his instinct between each body created. They move at the speeds equal to Connor.]
-Powers-
Fighting Style: [I am not a very motivated person. For fighting, it is even worse. I hate fighting, and violence in general. I consider myself, not a pacifist, but as close to one as I can with my occupation. I hate to see the death of another, loath it in fact. That is why I try my best to go for disabling strikes, like in the joints, or weak areas of the body, being the temples, or hitting at 'the button', as boxers call it, as it reminds them of the off button for a person, turning them off like a light.
Due to my zanpakuto however, leaving my opponents alive is exceedingly difficult. That is why, I have chosen to fight with it sheathed for anything that is not more powerful than I am. When I fight like this, I am to end a fight as quickly as I possibly can, lest I be forced to draw that a cursed blade. I detest it to such a degree, that I refuse to fight with it, even in a sealed state. Instead, I club my opponents with debilitating strikes, hoping to beat them down enough that they are unable to fight me any longer.
It is foolish, but I have my morals, as well as principles. If I do not have to kill something, then it does not die, and that is that. However, there are those that are either too powerful for me to hold back like that on, or no longer deserve to enjoy their last waking moments. Do not misunderstand, I am a merciful person, willing to help almost anyone. But that is not weakness. I am also very lazy. I hate fighting. I hate moving too much. I am quite the slothful person, and that is probably my worst flaw, or at least it is to me.
When I finally do draw my repulsive weapon, there are only two things that I do in fights. The first, is strike them, and make sure they are affected by its ability. The second, is stall and wait. I let the powers work as intended, and slowly... kill them. Not matter how they beg or plead, I will not stop. It, will not stop. If it has gotten to the point that I have been forced to draw Tamashī, then I can reasonably say, that I have given them every chance to cease and desist. It is their own fault for what happens after that point, not mine.
For the ones that especially deserve to suffer for their sins, for the few that manage to make me snap in rage, then I cannot afford to be lazy. My fighting style, my mindset, changes from 'disabling them for a time', to, wiping them from this world as fast as I can. I start aiming for more fatal strikes, silting of the throat, a blade through the ribs, a sword through the limb, I go for the most damaging attack I can go for in the moment. I hate this, I hate them, and my laziness shines through. I do my best to make the fights as short as I can. It is better that way.
Because of how my blade works, I have taken to becoming a melee specialist, preferring close quarters combat to any other form. I find that to be the most 'honorable' form of fighting, letting each of you the opportunity to prove yourselves strong beyond certain 'equalizers'. Though I suppose that it would be hypocritical of me to judge someone poorly for using a firearm given my past. Very hypocritical of me, since at some point in the future, I intend to give myself the same advantage, fighting with guns like any other soldier, in any other army.
As regrettable as it is that I would have to use them, I need every advantage I need in a fight. There are things out there in this world... in every world, that I know I am not strong enough to fight. Things that, no matter how fast, or strong, or skilled I become, there are beings that I will never beat fairly. So, to ensure that I survive, I will use whatever it takes to live out this pathetic life of mine. When I do get them, not that I plan on getting them any time soon, I plan on having lots of them. Made by me! If I have any of those things, then they will meet my standards!
When I fight with firearms, I use primarily my left arm to shoot, while my sword is used by by right, making for a good duality. When my only weapon is a gun, I try to keep enemies around ten to twenty feet away, with that range being my reliable zone of accuracy. Depth perception is not my forte. I know that I am weak, strength-wise anyway, so when I bring out guns, preferably a single pistol, it is generally for fights where I am unable to use my sword, or when my opponents are too fast for me to reliably keep up with.
I never bothered to learn
When I have no weapons, a truly terrifying thought for me, I am forced to rely on my body and martial skill to protect me. I have little in the way of that, having learned how to fight on my own in the lower districts. Picking up street fighting for the few times where my weapons failed to protect me, and even mixing them with my other weapon styles. My street fighting ability relies and focuses on tripping up my foes, and striking them in the softer parts of the body, primarily the head as they fall. I favor kicks, aiming at the ankles and knees, doing my best to make them fall. I do so in a desperate manner, knowing that this is my weakest combat style. I lash out like a wild animal, my reliance on pure skill is nearly forgotten, only striking at whatever will cause the most damage.
I am fairly specialized in my attack style. That style being attack. The best defense is an unstoppable offence. I rush in, trying to end the fight before it can be started. That is why I rarely use bakudo, aside from the fact that my own magic is exceptionally weak. I know I am unable to make decent defense, so I do not use it. Hado on the other hand... well, an exploding fireball is an exploding fireball, regardless how powerful you are. As stated earlier, my aim is not the best in a fight, so I use Kido up close, where them dodging fireballs is less likely.
I lack a sufficient way to fight with enemies that prefer to take to fighting me at a distance, though I cannot blame them for that. I have three options for people like this. The first is to fight fire with fire, the least likely option for me. This is where I try to match them at their own game, shooting hado and or my guns at them, while moving around dodging attacks the best I can with my barely average speed. This is the least chosen option, because I am not the best of shots while moving around like a madman. That, and they will most defiantly have the advantage, who uses long ranged attacks up close.
The second most likely of my choices, is to, quite obviously, get in close. As mid to melee range is my comfort zone for fighting, it should be no surprise that I choose to try to get within it. When running to them, using whatever method I have available to me, be it shunpo or something else, I fire attacks at them, trying to keep them moving, and unable to attack me before I can get within reliable striking range. I hate fighting these opponents, because I feel like they have less respect for their opponents, not letting their foes fight back.
My third option, and my most preferred choice when faced with someone with high range... is to leave. I know that these fights are difficult to win, especially without suffering an injury, so whenever possible, I just leave. If I do not need to fight someone, then I will not bother. I am not one of those battle maniacs, I do not enjoy fights, or hurting people. I avoid confrontation when I can. If I am unable, then so be it, but I will not prolong the violence or suffering. I refuse to fall into that trap.
I prefer fighting with both my hands on my zanpakuto, or whatever sword I may use. I use style and skill whenever I can, not liking to resort to brute force on any issue that does not require it. I like those who can wield their weapons with the finesse, those who have mastered themselves along with their chosen weapon. Those who only swing huge hunks of metal around, or decide that they need a bazooka to kill an ant get on my nerves. There comes a time where you will be unable to rely on that strength. It just bothers me to see a weapon wasted on people like that.]
Zanpakutou Spirit Appearance:
Connor has two zanpakuto spirits, each having a separate name, outside of their release name. The first is the one that he likes, who's company Connor actually enjoys, for the most part. He calls this one Hope. Hope is a small creature, barely standing five inches tall. Hope is a kind and gentle little thing, but is terribly shy. Hope sounds like a young child with a gender neutral voice, making it impossible to tell if it's a boy or a girl. The small creature is humanoid in nature, and is made of a glowing blue energy. There are no features on their face, but they are exceedingly good at body language, so anyone can tell what they are thinking.
Hope is the light of Connor's world, the one light of good that keeps Connor from breaking down, from returning back to what he was like when he was a human. Both spirits remember Connor's Life perfectly. While Hope might be afraid of what Connor once was, they don't hold that against them. They encourage Connor to abandon their past and look towards the future. They also try to convince Connor to give up. Hope doesn't want Connor to feel any more pain, so the tiny spirit tries to reason with the shinigami. They try to tell him that they've earned their final sleep.
Hope wants Connor to die. Hope wants what's best for him, and genuinely believes that death is the best option. Every conversation the two have together always ends with Hope trying to talk him into it, to just die. Connor always has to tell Hope that he can't, that it isn't his time. That's when Hope starts to get desperate. They try their best to talk him into it, going so far as to desperately beg and cry. Eventually they give up, either running away crying, or sulking off, saying something about not learning from the first time. It eats away at Connor, because Hope makes him feel guilty for not doing it.
His second spirit is practically the opposite in every aspect. He calls this spirit Despair. Unlike Hope, who sounded like both genders, Despair sounds like Connor, only more.... alive. Despair is a shadow, a shade, a ghost that haunts his inner world. Connor has never gotten a good look at him, because he always disappears once he seems him. The specter vanishes from sight once you start looking for him, but is always close behind him. This spirit is cruel to Connor. He values nothing that Connor holds dear in the world. This spirit loves only destruction and carnage.
Whenever Connor isn't speaking to Hope, despair 'shows up', to have his own conversation with the master of the two. He speaks in only whispers, talking to Connor in chilled breaths that brush his ears. He constantly reminds the shinigami how worthless he is, letting him know that he's no better than he was in life. How he learned nothing from dying. He is able to cause Connor flashbacks to memories that Connor feels nothing but embarrassment or guilt over, and constantly replay them. He doesn't tell Connor to die though. No, he gives him a better way out.
Kill everyone else instead.
A conversation not go exactly perfect? It makes it so you don't have to deal with them again. Being hunted down by your own brothers in arms? Makes it so you don't have to deal with the reality you're currently in. Because unlike Hope, Despair wants Connor to live. He wants Connor to live each and every day in absolute anguish and self loathing. He's the one who constantly tells Connor to give in to his hate, to just let the world burn for what they did to him, always taunting him with the past. He always bargains with him, saying 'just kill this one thing, and I'll tell you all about who you really were'.
One thing that these two have in common is that they're never able to be seen together, or at least don't talk while one another is in the area. If Hope is in sight, Despair will not utter a sound. The moment Hope is no longer visible, he will start whispering in Connor's ear again. The two don't even acknowledge each other's existence. If asked, they will only say, 'I am the only one here, are you sure you aren't hearing things?'. The voices are strong, able to communicate with Connor even in his everyday life, intentionally pushing him closer and closer to the edge.]
Inner World(Optional):
[Connor's inner world is a fairly simple one. In the middle is a small patch of grass, maybe fifteen feet all around. In the middle of that, there are four tombstones, and a perfectly rectangular hole before one of them. The rightmost tombstone says Steven Greaves for a name, with not date of death. To the left of that has the name Jamie Greaves. The leftmost stone was shaped like a cross, and says "Here lies Alexander Smith, priest, friend, and father. May he be in the Lord's kind embrace." To the right of that one was another cross one. On it stated simply, "Connor Greaves", though sometimes the name would change from the corner of his eye for a split second. Beyond this small patch, there is nothing but darkness.]
Zanpakuto Appearances: [
When sealed, this blasted blade of mine is so nice to look at. It is in no way a standard zanpakuto, sad to say. Due to my... less than normal levels of reiatsu, my sword has grown into a behemoth of a weapon. It casually reaches six feet tall, from tip to hilt, looking like a monster of a broadsword. I say it is nice to look at, because it is the nicest of its forms. A thin thrusting blade, with maybe two feet of hilt, plenty of room for a good grip and hand maneuvering. A silver tone, looking like an actual sword, and not some fake looking junk blade. It even has an actual hilt to it, even if the hilt would look more at home on a katana than a blade like this one.
When released, Tamashī is a two sided sword, unlike most weapons that other reapers wield, making it a broadsword, or possibility a claymore, similar to the ones that the knights of old used back when they still held relevancy. This sword is fitted to the size of Connor, making the weapon four feet, starting from the tip of the blade, to the end of the hilt. The blade is no shining star of hope that a white knight should posses. No, Tamashī is not nearly as pathetic as that. This wicked spirit is more suited to a black knight, cutting down all who anger him.
Whatever this blade is made of, it is certainly not iron. The sword is as black as night, without a hint of color to it, as if trying to brag about how evil it is, making Connor only hate it all the more for trying to be edgy. Speaking of edges, it truly is the thick blade, being roughly four inches from one side to the other, gigantic compared to the elegant, sleek, compact weapon that is the katana. Instead, this is a hacking broadsword, that refused to be something that could blend in with the other shinigami weapons.
This sword even lacks a standard guard like other swords. Instead, all this thing has is a ton of spikes where the guard should be. Sure, they still prevent swords and other weapons from cutting at his hands like a guard should do, but it makes it, and me, like I took up the roll of the villain! I am a good guy! The tip of the hilt even has a little spike at the end of a hilt with no cloth, or even any leather to give it grip... This instead, forces me to use my sheath to preform konso, and it just freaks the heck out of the souls.
And Bankai is even worse... At this point, it has given up on even trying to look normal, not that it was normal before, but at least it could be identified as a sword! Now, now I can hardly tell what it is! The whole thing grew two feet, becoming quite unwieldy save for the most 'manly' of anime characters. The sword has taken on a bone-like appearance, with the edge of the 'blade' razor sharp, but terribly uneven. It still has two sides, but with all that is going on with the hilt, I doubt I could hold it any other way.
The hilt has become completely bone, taking on the feeling and look of it, and becoming very uncomfortable to hold, giving me blisters every time I use it. Above the two feet of hilt, is a large spine-like horn, curving downward, acting as a guard? I honestly stopped being able to follow the logic of this thing a while ago. And to top it all off, running down the middle of the blade part of the sword, are dozens, maybe even hundreds, of large bony teeth, making Souruejji look like a gigantic jaw to some screwed up monster, I GIVE UP! I AM DONE! SOMEONE TRADE ZANPAKUTOU WITH ME, PLEASE! I BEG YOU!
{shikai}
When sealed, this blasted blade of mine is so nice to look at. It is in no way a standard zanpakuto, sad to say. Due to my... less than normal levels of reiatsu, my sword has grown into a behemoth of a weapon. It casually reaches six feet tall, from tip to hilt, looking like a monster of a broadsword. I say it is nice to look at, because it is the nicest of its forms. A thin thrusting blade, with maybe two feet of hilt, plenty of room for a good grip and hand maneuvering. A silver tone, looking like an actual sword, and not some fake looking junk blade. It even has an actual hilt to it, even if the hilt would look more at home on a katana than a blade like this one.
When released, Tamashī is a two sided sword, unlike most weapons that other reapers wield, making it a broadsword, or possibility a claymore, similar to the ones that the knights of old used back when they still held relevancy. This sword is fitted to the size of Connor, making the weapon four feet, starting from the tip of the blade, to the end of the hilt. The blade is no shining star of hope that a white knight should posses. No, Tamashī is not nearly as pathetic as that. This wicked spirit is more suited to a black knight, cutting down all who anger him.
Whatever this blade is made of, it is certainly not iron. The sword is as black as night, without a hint of color to it, as if trying to brag about how evil it is, making Connor only hate it all the more for trying to be edgy. Speaking of edges, it truly is the thick blade, being roughly four inches from one side to the other, gigantic compared to the elegant, sleek, compact weapon that is the katana. Instead, this is a hacking broadsword, that refused to be something that could blend in with the other shinigami weapons.
This sword even lacks a standard guard like other swords. Instead, all this thing has is a ton of spikes where the guard should be. Sure, they still prevent swords and other weapons from cutting at his hands like a guard should do, but it makes it, and me, like I took up the roll of the villain! I am a good guy! The tip of the hilt even has a little spike at the end of a hilt with no cloth, or even any leather to give it grip... This instead, forces me to use my sheath to preform konso, and it just freaks the heck out of the souls.
And Bankai is even worse... At this point, it has given up on even trying to look normal, not that it was normal before, but at least it could be identified as a sword! Now, now I can hardly tell what it is! The whole thing grew two feet, becoming quite unwieldy save for the most 'manly' of anime characters. The sword has taken on a bone-like appearance, with the edge of the 'blade' razor sharp, but terribly uneven. It still has two sides, but with all that is going on with the hilt, I doubt I could hold it any other way.
The hilt has become completely bone, taking on the feeling and look of it, and becoming very uncomfortable to hold, giving me blisters every time I use it. Above the two feet of hilt, is a large spine-like horn, curving downward, acting as a guard? I honestly stopped being able to follow the logic of this thing a while ago. And to top it all off, running down the middle of the blade part of the sword, are dozens, maybe even hundreds, of large bony teeth, making Souruejji look like a gigantic jaw to some screwed up monster, I GIVE UP! I AM DONE! SOMEONE TRADE ZANPAKUTOU WITH ME, PLEASE! I BEG YOU!
{bankai}
Zanpakutou Release Names
Curse the world, Tamashī.
Bear my sins for all to loath, Souruejji.
Overall Ability:
Tamashī is a weapon in the most literal sense. It will corrupt all things standing in its path, be it friend or foe, it cares not. This is not something to train with, and not something that can be used carelessly by Connor. Tamashī is a poison as destructive as they come, consuming and twisting all those who are unfortunate enough to be touched by it. Tamashī creates a slimy black liquid that is all too eager to show exactly what it can do. Once this makes contact with something without spiritual capabilities, it start taking effect immediately.
The poison dissolves into its victims, seeping into them, and corrupting them to the bone. Once it has dissolved, it starts to warp and change them, turning everything to the nightmares Connor fears the most. The zanpakuto warps things, giving them new deranged properties. The concrete floors of the city can take the form of dried out humans, wailing out in anguish, trying to claim more for the foundation, while the earth takes on a darker, harder form, harder than most metals. Trees and plant life grow faces, angry at all creation, happily trying to infect the ones who cut them down for the most trivial of things. Animals gain a devilish appearance, and start to go rabid, attacking anything that has not yet been affected.
Buildings become nightmare fuel, taunting you as you waste away at a society you can never escape from, while their doors become portals to anywhere. People, normal people anyway, lose all sense of self, as they become something akin to a zombie, with their eyes shrunken, and their skin like tanned prunes. But, despite how everyone looks, the people are still the same on the inside. The living beings are still conscious for the entirety of this process, even as they lose control of themselves.
In spite of how quickly the poison spreads, the actual change is very slow, at least in comparison. The poison still acts like any other. If you have a resistance to poison, it changes you slower. With that in mind, the entire transformation takes two posts to fully complete for non-spiritual beings or objects. Anything without any remaining reiatsu will be changed instantly, regardless of resistances. If anything poisoned dies while under the effects of the poison, or are killed by the sword, will be changing instantly as well.
Spiritual beings are only slightly better off, depending on your perspective. Spiritual beings, thanks to the strength of their souls, can resist the effects of this. To a degree. The poison will still spread as fast as it does on anything else, but the change is slowed down exponentially. The process is painful, and only those with a two or more in pain resistance can fight without an issue during it. The transformation will begin from where the poison first touched you, and travel further each post. This takes ten posts to fully complete.
After four posts of a full transformation, or the transformed parts of you, vanish, as if you were never there, including the affected environment. Anything that vanishes like this is tied to Connor's zanpakuto indefinitely. Whenever Connor uses his release, whatever vanished due to the poison can reappear. Enemies can stall this poison by paying 200 per post. However, for every post that it is stalled, the cost is increased by 100, meaning by post five, the cost would be 700 reiatsu. By letting the poison progress, it resets the cost to stall it.
Repeated exposure to the poison cuts another post from the victim's remaining time till transformation. Those with a 2 in poison resist take twice as long to transform, while a three will be completely immune, save for being killed by the blade or one of the zombies. Knocking Connor out or killing him is the easiest way to cure yourself of the poison. If you want to cure it with regular healing, you need to have an ability with both higher healing than his offensive strength, or a tech two classes higher than his release. Beings created by the poison can only infect those they have a 50% stat superiority over, or 2 classes over.]
Shikai Overall Ability:
Tamashī produces a thick, inky black liquid that coats his blade in a slick sheen, giving it a wet and nightmarish appearance. This liquid is a poison that instantly begins to coat whatever it touches, and whatever is touching that, and so on, trying to cover everything in its wake, traveling with high speed speeds, equal to 300. Once it touches something, it will latch onto the surface, dissolving into the object after a mere moment, often appearing as a thin black wave due to how fast is. This travels fifteen feet from where the blade first touched, traveling all surfaces connected to it.
At this stage, the properties aren't at that grand of a scale, but are still a terror to be subjected to. For every race, there is a different effect that applies to them. For the human race, the plain, vanilla, powerless human race, they probably have it the worst. Once the poison sinks into them, they are subject to intense pain, leaving them as writhing messes on the ground until they're completely transformed. Once fully transformed, they become what are essentially zombies. At this point, they will begin to attack anything moving in sight, save for Connor. These zombies have a strength, speed, senses, and instinct stat of 100 each.
They will spread their pain and misery around, their very touch spreading the poison, before they vanish into Tamashī after the forth post after transformation. As stated earlier, Tamashī does not care who falls to its power, so naturally, Shinigami do not escape this horror. They too will be subject to inhuman pain, though they will be able to fight it off if they have a two in pain resistance. For them though, the end result is far different. Once transformed, they will become something resembling a decaying corpse. They retain their features, unlike the human masses, but they look pale and blue. Their clothes will be gone, and replaced with garbs befitting of the grim reaper, while keeping their weapons and zanpakuto.
They will have all their stats, but will start hunting down the weakest beings in their sights, save for their 'master'. Their blades will carry the same effects as Connor's. Hollows, something Connor will reluctantly draw his blade for, will change into specters, shadowy and translucent, looking truly ghost-like. Unlike nearly every other race, these will exclusively hunt down other hollows, spreading the poison only to them, ignoring all else, including the buildings. Rouges act as the shinigami do.
Beast Clans don't receive much when transformed, but it is still scary enough. They will become giant versions for whatever animal they take after. For example, a wolf beast clan would become a massive, twenty foot monster, attacking anything and everything that moved, with anything it touched spreading Connor's poison like a plague, and anything it killed changing as well. For fullbringers, they warp into mutant versions of themselves, barely recognizable to those that knew them prior. They can end up looking any number of ways, maybe purple skin, glowing green eyes, backwards heads, who knows. They, just like nearly every other race, will go on a rampage, however, the talents of fullbringers don't go to waste here.
The fullbringers will use their bringer powers to manipulate the souls in the air to create deadly purple gasses, as they continue their four post journey. Quincy receive a special treatment, being one of the races Connor likes the least. He considers them witches, and as such, their transformation is simply them being on fire, forcing them to endure the sensation of perpetually burning, with no chance for reprieve until they vanish into his zanpakuto. Bounts are leeches and vampires to Connor, so they start to grey and thin out. The rampage they go on will target the people with the highest sprp, and attempt to drain them with fangs they did not have previously.
Mod souls, basically being robots, become featureless chrome dolls, attacking the smallest people first, spreading their poison only through contact with metal. Arrancar will suffer the same fate as the hollow, as will vizard, attacking only hollows, or members of their own races. Failures will die the moment that the poison touches them. Any Hell race will be turned into laughing demons, standing twenty feet tall. They will attack those with evil souls first, carrying the same effects as Tamashī. Any ability weaker than the liquid, will be turned into poison and destroyed.
The earth itself is not free from Connor's weapon. Buildings will come to life, laughing and taunting anyone they can. Their doorways will send any who pass through them through any other doorway. Affecting whole building isn't generally something Connor accomplishes, but a transformation doesn't need to be complete to carry their effects. Motor vehicles become living monster versions of themselves, crashing into anything, mainly other vehicles, with a speed and strength of 300, with instinct and senses of 50.
The ground beneath them, and any that they kill, become subject to Tamashī's effects. Ground that has been altered by man, mostly tarmac and concrete will become a sea of shrunken humans, grabbing at anyone unturned with a speed and strength of 300, trying to drag them down into the mass, while still acting as ground for Connor's. Unworked ground will become Connor's, and will be unusable to anyone else's abilities, unless their power is stronger than his spiritual stat.
Trees hiss and swipe at anyone close to them, with 200 speed and strength, and animals run after any and all uninfected, with speed, strength, instinct, and senses at 300. All spiritual beings will retain their stats for the duration of transformation. A transformed being carries all the spreading effects of Tamashī. The poison will spread fifteen feet from where the blade touches. Beings will not attack Connor, but will not obey him either. After the four posts of transformation is over, the transformed will be absorbed into Tamashī instantly, with their soul passing on as they should.
Those who managed to get away with a partial transformation will lose the affected areas. Anything else not mentioned will simply be transformed into an evil version of itself and be unable to harm Connor, while spreading the poison to all they touch. Anything Transformed will have the same durability as his release stat. If one has an offensive stat superiority, they will be immune to the poison, unless the poison has a two class superiority. Getting struck three times with the poison however, will negate this and infect them regardless. ]
Bankai Overall Ability: When entering bankai, the liquid on Kurutta Tamashī starts to fall. It falls to the ground in a thick inky, slimy substance, like a rotten ooze. It constantly does this, leaking from his blade like a broken faucet. The poison pools on the ground, unlike in shikai, and never fully dissolves. Constantly at Connor's feet, the liquid will constantly expand, increasing ten feet every post, until it hits one hundred feet. After a hundred feet, it doubles, going to twenty feet every post, with every hundred feet doubling the distance it travels. Initially, the poison moves at 300 speed, but every ten feet traveled increases the speed by 50.
The poison still affects the world just as it would in Shikai, but with a catch. Connor no longer sees the poisoned world he has created, seeing nothing but the norm. To everyone else, it is still as rotted an poisoned as it would be from this evil weapon. Any killed in this release will be chained to the release forever, finding themselves completely unable to pass onto the next life. Using this aspect will drain Connor of an extra 800 reiatsu for characters aside from Npc's.
Anything transformed will remain until Connor, even if Connor drops out of Bankai or dies. Those with a 2x offensive stat superiority will be immune to the poison. Getting struck three times with the poison however, will negate this and infect them regardless. Those turned have a durability of two times Connor's release stat, unless the poison has a two class superiority. Once his release ends, everything fades away until he returns to bankai once more. The max distance the poison can travel from a single point is a mile, but the distance can be increased as Connor moves.
The poison still affects the world just as it would in Shikai, but with a catch. Connor no longer sees the poisoned world he has created, seeing nothing but the norm. To everyone else, it is still as rotted an poisoned as it would be from this evil weapon. Any killed in this release will be chained to the release forever, finding themselves completely unable to pass onto the next life. Using this aspect will drain Connor of an extra 800 reiatsu for characters aside from Npc's.
Anything transformed will remain until Connor, even if Connor drops out of Bankai or dies. Those with a 2x offensive stat superiority will be immune to the poison. Getting struck three times with the poison however, will negate this and infect them regardless. Those turned have a durability of two times Connor's release stat, unless the poison has a two class superiority. Once his release ends, everything fades away until he returns to bankai once more. The max distance the poison can travel from a single point is a mile, but the distance can be increased as Connor moves.
Zanpakuto Techniques:
Shikai
[1. Collected Souls: This weapon is a collector of bodies, stealing and taking all that it touches, and using them for Connor, whether he wants it to or not. This power is quite the terrifying one for Connor. This is probably the only defensive ability in this blasted blade of his, though on the surface, it certainly does not seem to be that. Speaking of surfaces, the only one he can use this ability on, is himself, and it is quite painful. By activating this ability, something terrifying begins to happen. Connor starts to spawn a zombie.
Once activated, one or more of those he has slain begins to crawl out of his body, from a location of his choice. This starts slowly, taking its time to free itself from Connor, taking three posts to fully spawn from Connor. While it may look like it is coming directly from Connor, the truth is that Tamashī really likes to give a good performance, a show off if you would. When Tamashī, the blade, touches anything, the poison spreads in every direction. Including over Connor. Thankfully, Connor is immune, or he would die so very quickly.
Instead, the poison, with a little extra reiatsu put into it, starts to pool on Connor, since the poison refuses to absorb into him anyway. This makes a tiny pool for the bodies, the zombies, to start to be created from. Before they are fully transformed, fully created, Connor has full control of the body, sharing senses with it. These zombies are special. Not only can they be from any race that he has killed, but when they are reborn, they are made strong. Their physical stats are chosen depending on what Connor needs.
The souls have 500 in both of their physicals. They also share Connors sensory stats. This ability costs 200 reiatsu, and after zombie is fully spawned, it costs 100 reiatsu per post. Initial cost is multiplied by however many he chooses to create at once, max three. If Connor does not have at least a 1 in pain tolarance, he will not be able to fight while this tech is active. Can be used in both shikai and in bankai.]
Bankai
[1. The Return of Madness: This is quite the unusual ability for someone with a poison zanpakuto, but not unexpected for a blade that collects the bodies of its victims. By using this ability, those who have died or met their end from the poison will be brought back to fight again. Returning in their transformed state, they will begin their rampage once again, only this time, they will have more focus. Connor is able to control the zombies to a degree. He can force all things turned, to focus on a single opponent, or race to attack.This starts to give life back to the dead, letting them walk about, creating slaves for Tamashī to have fun with, and to cause poor Connor more mental scarring. The minions are powerful, more so than one might expect. With high durability, his bankai, and physical stats equal to both his spiritual stats combined then split evenly between strength and speed, and
sharing Connor's sensory stats, these abominations are extremely hard to kill. They attack without care for defense, knowing that they live only to serve, not having the will to turn on the one that slew them. For each one summoned, it takes 500 reiatsu from Connor. They last for five posts, and can create only three per post.
2. Poisoned wave: This is Connor's only ranged attack in release. By charging his blade with a bit of reiatsu, some of the poison will gather on it. By flicking his blade or slashing, a large crescent wave will fly in whatever direction he attacks at. This blade will cut anything it touches, as well as spread more poison. The crescent flies at a speed of 800, and cuts with the force of his highest spiritual stat. Anything it makes contact with will have its infection accelerated by three posts. This will also turn weaker abilities into poison. Costs 150 reiatsu, and can also be used in shikai.
3. Closing Pandora's Box: Connor does not like his Zanpakuto. In fact, it is one of the few things he truly hates. It causes rampant destruction, leaving everything that get too close to him dead and dying. Tamashī likewise hates Connor. It considers its master to be weak willed and foolish for not embracing the gifts that it gives him. This ability it the pinnacle of their hatred for one another. With this, Connor reseals all of the evil that comes from his weapon, dragging all the poison and monsters to his blade instantly.
But Tamashī does not let this happen without a cost. In order for Connor to do this, he must wait seven posts from when he first poisons something, making sure Connor suffers for drawing them in the first place. In order for Connor to use this ability, he must sheath Tamashī. Once sheathed, Connor cannot redraw his zanpakuto for two posts. Using this ability also costs a quarter of his maximum reiatsu. Anything not fully transformed, or in the process of transforming, will be completely unharmed.]
Mask Appearance: [Connor never gets things easy, especially when it comes to his powers. In fact, this mask seemingly decided to go along with how his spirits act in the face of death: embrace it wholeheartedly. And the expression on the face of this thing certainly says that it does. This has the face of a skull, even comes with a hole for the nose. While the right half is a generic looking skull, the left half has enough personality to make up for its boring, right side counterpart, holding it in spades.
The left half if the face, the left eye socket is warped, twisted into what could be an oddly sympathetic look, as if trying to seem apologetic for what it intends on doing to you. The teeth are shifted to an inhuman degree as well, but to the opposite effect. Where the eye is at least TRYING to seem nice, the jaw decided to set the rows of blunted teeth in that of an ugly sneer, with all of them set... wrong, giving the mask a cartoonish feel to it. There is one other feature on the mask. A large, black hand print is smeared over the entire mask, with the thumb over his left temple.]
Ressurection Appearance:
Ressurection Powers: [Bones are the things that Connor commands when forced into this state. The creation of bones is a simple one for him, for obvious reasons, so he controls them with a frightening ease. He is able to make any bone from any creature, able to animate it to do what he commands of it. He can create enough bones to replicate an entire person. Each bone has the strength of his reiatsu strength, and is just as durable. Making individual bones is easy, costing only 100 reiatsu. A full skeleton costs 300, and maintaining that costs 200 per post. Connor controls every skeleton through a mental link, splitting his instinct between each body created. They move at the speeds equal to Connor.]
Other Techniques:
{history}
[New York, United States of America]
[Soul society, squad 10 barracks]
My one weary eye cracked open, before immediately slamming shut. I had just woken up from his spot on the floor. I was spread out and lying face down on a patch of burnt grass, and I could still smell the fire that had once been. I was trying to remember what had happened and where I was. Broken pictures, memories, what might be memories, flashed before my eyes. Had I been fighting someone? There was a man, dressed in black robes with a sword and only screamed the word 'flex' over and over again. "....I had way too much to drink last night. Stupid *****." I told myself, finally having enough of hugging the earth.
Struggling to stand, I pushed myself up, hearing a strangely closeby chain. It took me a minute, but I finally managed to get into a sitting position. I started looking around the area, trying to find where the noise was coming from. It only got louder as I turned about. It was making me paranoid. Then I felt something move around on my chest, instinctively grabbing at it with inhuman speeds. Well, I found the chain. Turning my head down, I gave it a once-over. It was a short chain with only four and a half links on it. My confusion reflected on my face, as I gave it a questioning glance. I tried to tug it off. "How did this get he-eeeeeeeear!" I cried out in pain, pulling too sharply.
I released the thing as if it were something dangerous, dropping the chain. I started rubbing the area of my chest around the strange metal plate, somehow overtop my clothes. I decided to ignore the chain for now, slowly looking over the rest of my body. I was dressed mostly in black, with a red shirt. No... That wasn't right, I thought as I squinted. No, this was a white shirt. It only looked red because it was drenched in blood. My own blood most likely. I mustered up the energy to crawl over to a tree. "Ugh, have to call Mr.******." I had managed to get halfway to my feet, when a bright light started shining in the middle of the clearing. My eyes burned from the unexpected light.
I heard the crunching of leaves, and they were growing ever louder. I quickly got over the pain, and looked at the person approaching me. The person, it's a man. He had little style to his messy black hair. Piercing cold blue eyes looked down on him. It was a shinigami. He was wearing a shinigami uniform, even if it was slightly modified. I think he's trying to look edgy with that hood attached? I wasn't sure how I knew the term 'shinigami', but my blood ran cold at the sight of him. It was odd, but I knew he wasn't there to help me to a hospital.
My eyes creaked opened slowly, as a furious pounding was heard on my door. I turned to the window on the opposite side of the room. I could see outside that the sun was only beginning to rise, with the orange splashing against the deep navy blue, creating all sorts of purples of varying shades. A fading beauty, coming in to end the night. And my sleep. The alarm clock went off a few moments later, waking my fellow students in this rotten place. This was the Shinigami training school, a way to become part of the military of the dead, an army of souls, those united against those who have become lost in their passing from the realm of the living. Not that anyone here could claim to have passed successfully regardless. There were four people here, myself included, all training and learning how to become something that could be considered respectable to those in power, trying to make us into good little killers for them. I hated it, unlike most of the others. They cared not what they were being turned into, so long as they could get a decent rank in the forces.
They wanted to become killers, to slay any ghost that tried to throw off the balance of the living and the dead. But what kind of hypocrite was I to judge them? I who deserved nothing but death and torture for my actions. I sighed to myself, as I prepared for the day as quickly as I could. I got dressed in the standard garb of the student soul reaper, something I still could not understand. The clothing was so baggy, and had two layers of what I could only call a shirt- it mattered not, so I stopped thinking about it and dressed myself, placing a fox mask over my face to finish the look.
My roommates got up, getting ready for the last day of classes. The three of them talked among themselves, saying how they were going to ace this last test. I scowled behind my mask. The final test, the last bit of proof that we needed to present to the teachers, and more importantly, the captains of the thirteen court guard squads, that we were every bit the capable killers that they needed us to be. We were to go out to the living world, as a group, and slay hollows. I sighed to myself, leaving the room to head to the last of my classes. As I left though, I could not help but reflect on how I ended up here all those years ago...
My eyes snapped open, as I breathed in a deep breath, gasping like a fish out of water. I started panting and wheezing, almost choking. There was something wrong with my throat because it burned like crazy. It was so dry, like I have not had anything to drink in days. I brought my hands back to my neck as I started painfully coughing and hacking. I could feel tears streaming down my face as I hunched over. I took a look around, trying to find out where I was. I found that I was on the side of a small grassy creek. It had steep walls, maybe at a sixty degree angle, but the water was shallow, barely enough to get my feet wet.
That mattered not though, because as soon as I saw the water, I jumped at it, drinking from the small crook greedily. I felt weak. All my limbs felt like jelly, and for some reason my left eye refused to work. I groaned while I drank, as I brought my hand my eye, trying to see if anything was covering it. My body tensed in shock. There was indeed something covering my eye. I took it off, and saw it was... some sort of bone? I wanted to cry at how random this all was. I tried to recall, tried to remember how I got here. I got a migraine for my efforts. I could feel the heat of the sun on my skin, could feel it start to burn my face and legs. I was dressed in a weird half robe, barely passing the halfway point on my thighs. How indecent.
Even still, I gave myself a few minutes before deciding to get up. I was shaky on my feet. "I can not believe I just drank that..." Just how long was I out here for that I was desperate enough to drink from a shallow muddy stream? Days? Weeks? If so, why am I not dead then? I needed answers, and I would not find them here. I had to lean on my knees just to stay on my feet. Carefully, I walked out of the water. I was unable to hold back a groan, already missing the cool water. Getting back on track, I continued to walk, trying to find someone that could help.
Unsurprisingly, the day flew by, with teachers going easy on us in preparation for our 'final exam', to determine if we can go to the squads, or spend another year here. Or worse. There was no helping my blackened mood. I hated the act of killing, of violence in general, it all felt so meaningless to me. But there was no room for emotions in war. Kill or be killed, that is how I was meant to live from now on. I had no right to complain, I chose this path for myself, and I was going to follow it till the end, no matter how bloody.
"Alright maggots!" A gruff voice called out. This was it, the end of one road, and the start of something worse. My hands clenched. My entire class were in a group, as instructed. I was standing in the back, unwilling to be anywhere else. The group consisted of over thirty of us baby reapers, standing in one of the training fields. I could count only five black clad warriors, showing all the protection they would bother to offer us. But that was the point, was it not? To prove ourselves that we were as good as them or better?
This was all meaningless. None of this had a point. I should just leave, just disappear from this place and 'And what? Become a family man? As if someone would go for your ugly mug. As if someone would think bloody hands are attractive.' A voice told him, instantly shutting him down. It was right, there was no other path for him. He needed to do this. He needed to become a reaper. "In a moment, we're all going to be headed to the world of the living, understood?" The instructor continued, telling us what we already knew.
"Once we arrive, we will be activating hollow bait. After that, you all must fight like your lives depend on it. In order to pass, you must kill at least two hollows. You will use all the skills and knowledge that you've acquired over your years here to aid you in this fight. This is your trial by fire. While you need one kill to pass, more than one looks better. Kill as many as you can. The Shinigami behind me are not here to save you if you screw up. They are only here to handle anything too big, on the off chance something too much to handle shows its ugly head."
He explained this, earning himself a nervously whispering crowd. The instructor yelled at them to shut up so he could continue. He went on for another ten minutes about how to remain safe, and how we were not to wonder off, something about deserters not being tolerated in their ranks. I mostly tuned him out, waiting patiently for the portal to be opened. I just wanted to get this over with and be done with it. There was no worry for me. I knew that I could handle myself in a fight, as little as I enjoyed doing the act. After another five minutes of warnings, the portal was opened, and we crossed over.
I quickly found myself walking through an open field, not a tree for shade for miles. Sighing sadly, I picked up my feet and started walking. My body was thankfully starting to wake up. My body felt like mix of discomforting things. It was like my muscles was trying to move through jello while being baked at the same time. My trek to find civilization was a long one. It took me hours to find houses and buildings, and finding them left me more confused than hopeful. Shacks, every building was an old wooden shack, looking like they would fit right in the eighth century. Then again, I really did not care at the moment, I was too hungry and tired. I could hear people talking in the distance, but what I had not realized at the time was that I did not hear cars or vehicles. I was stumbling forward, trying to find someone who could help me, find anyone would would help.
As I stumbled my way into the small village, I tried to make heads or tails of the place. The roads were dirt, few buildings there were, were barely anything more than shacks, and none of them had glass or concrete. It boggled my mind. Why did everything look so basic? I saw a small counter built into a building. I managed to move my tired feet over towards it. My legs were on fire, and my weak skin burned all too easily under the unrelenting sun. There was a bored man behind the counter, leaning his head on his hand, as he looked for potential customers, not seeing me until I got closer.
Once he spotted me, his whole demeanor changed into something happy and friendly, his smile was too sweet, taking on a sleazy look. That change lasted but a moment. Getting a better look at my limping self, his face fell, and he gave me a half-grimace, giving me the most sympathy I would be receiving this day. "Woah, what happened to you? You look like you got in a fight with a hollow." He told me, but I did not have to know the term to understand what he was saying. I was a mess. With pinkish-red skin, a missing eye, and hair long enough to reach my lower back, as well as numerous cuts and bruises, and burn marks in my calves. I was lucky to be alive.
"Please... help..." It hurt to even speak. My voice was scratchy. I was starving, thirsty, and dead tired. Still, the man seemed unimpressed, rolling his eyes, leaning on the counter as he was previously. "And why should I? You clearly don't have any money. What do I get out of this?" He told me heartlessly. I could feel the hope in my chest. It was quickly dying. It felt like a crack on my soul, widening with each passing minute. I had nothing I could offer him, nothing to motivate him to help me. "Well, that is unless you want to give me that necklace of yours." He told me.
If my eyes were not so tired, I would have blinked in confusion. Lifelessly, I reached for my neck, unaware that I was wearing anything aside from this robe-thing. As he said, there was something there. Grasping at the warm metal, I moved it towards my field of vision. It was a silver chain, but I could also feel a weight on it. sliding my hand further down, my hand met a silver cross, with a smaller cross embedded inside the silver, and a silver loop attached to the center of it. The smaller cross was made of a navy blue gem, and was mostly in the middle of the loop.
I stared at it in wonder. If I gave this to the man, he might help me. My eye flickered to the man in question. He looked smug, knowing that I would give it up. He even had his hand outstretched. Waiting. But I hugged the cross closer to my chest, as I took a step back. For whatever reason, even with the prospect of being fed, I was not willing to part with the silver cross. I started to limp away, needing to find someone willing to help me. I managed three feet before I heard a soft thump behind me. I turned to see what it was, and received a fist to the gut for the action. "Alright, guess I'll just have to take it from your corpse."
The blow knocked the wind out of me. I was gasping for breath, but the man was unforgiving in his assault. He punched me three more times in the chest, before knocking me over. I was starting to catch my breath, when he jumped on me, trying to get the cross from my hand. But I refused to release it. He struggled with it for all of two seconds, before he started to punch my face. It was hard to stay awake, but I could not afford to fall asleep here, to lose to this man. Getting as much air as I could, my right hand grabbed his robe, and with a surprising amount of strength, I pulled him towards me, while my head flew up, causing our skulls to collide.
The man flew back, but I refused let go of him, and pulled him down for another headbutt. I heard something crack, but ignored it, pulling the now unconscious man off me. I tried to get to my feet, but there was so much pain. The groan that came out of my mouth sounded gravelly. My stomach rumbled loudly. This was it. I was not even able to get to my feet. Now what could I do? "That was impressive boy." I heard the creaking voice of an old woman call out to me. I managed to turn my head towards the voice. There was a woman in orange, surrounded by at least five grizzled men. It was hard to focus my vision. "I can help you. For a price." There was danger in that offer, but I could only nod my head in response, before losing consciousness.
The group arrived into the land of the living after a journey though an odd purple tunnel. The students took in the scenery like a sponge. We are in a large grassy field that stretched on for what must have been miles. In the day it must have been quite the sight to take in. Unfortunately, it was not day, and the moonlit night gave it an almost haunting appearance. I would have loved to build a home here if I had been given the chance. Away from all the noise, it was peaceful. That would all change very soon, and the reapers gave us two minutes to gather our wits about us.
I could feel the cross around my neck. It felt like a million pounds right now. The weight of taking a life, of actively trying to slay something was a heavy burden. I had to remind myself that I would be passing them on, that I would be sending them off to heaven.... but then I remember the kind of 'heaven' the soul society really was. I remember when one of the teachers had caught sight of it once. They claimed it was a Quincy cross because of the blue jewel in the center of it. Luckily for me, they quickly reminded them that Quincy Crosses had five sides.
I returned the cross to my 'shirt', and placed a hand on my blade. Yep, still there. It was a nasty weapon. I have yet to learn the name of it, but I can hear it speak, so that must mean I am close. Sadly, it speaks in insults and demands blood whenever it does talk to me. I have yet to use the bade in a fight, sparing or otherwise. Meditating with the angry weapon have gotten me mixed results. Sometimes it works, but most of the time it ignores me, and berates me afterwards. I have yet to make heads or tails of the sword.
My classmates got into groups of five, bunching together to ensure survival. I remained alone. It was a foolish decision, of that I have no doubt. But that is just how I wanted it. To remain alone. If I were to fight, I did not want to become an unnecessary burden to them. Those people who earned the right to be here. "Alright, time to show us what you've got punks. Prepare for battle!" The man yelled out to us one last time. I drew my sword, along with everyone else, the shinigami included. They wanted to be ready for anything. Time to do or die. I have to wonder though, which outcome I would prefer to happen?
"While ya eat, you'd better be listening newbie, cause I don't like repeating myself." I simply nodded my head, eating the stew they had prepared. My skin was still red from the walk yesterday, but at least they had given me a few meals, though their reasons were still unexplained. Until now that is. A man had woken me up ten minutes ago, telling me that I needed to know some things about where I was. The man was built like a bear, looking like he could lift a tree. He was dressed in a red robe-thing, made of decent quality materials. He had a face that was hard as stone, and a long jagged scar under his left eye. His hair was black and short, and looked very greasy.
And now here I sit across from this man, at a table with no chairs, eating as he speaks. To say it was unnerving would be an understatement. "You are dead." I wanted to be shocked, I really did, but from everything I have seen so far, I lacked the will to be so. He caught on immediately. "Good, you already know, that'll make this quicker." He nodded in slight approval. "Once a human dies, their soul doesn't simply pass on to the next life. In order to pass on, a Shinigami must send them here." That got my attention.
"If a soul is not passed on, then they start to decay. It doesn't happen instantly, but over the course of many months, to even years. Once it happens though, those poor saps turn into something nasty." He shook his head in disgust. "The souls turn into monsters known as hollows, beasts that prey on other souls. Souls like us." His tone was grim, making sure I understood the point. I most certainly did. "Every hollow is different, but they all share two traits. One, the have a big hole in the center of their chests, representing their heartless nature. The second is that they all wear bone masks."
That part confused me. Did they wear skull masks? Again, the man caught onto my confusion. "You're a silent brat, aintcha? I call them bone masks, because they sure don't look like skulls, and I don't care to find out more. The point is, they hunt souls, eat souls, and are attracted to strong souls." He leveled a glare at me. "And you have a strong soul." I felt my eye widen in both surprise, and fear. Was he telling me that these hollow things were going to be trying to kill me? With how my luck was going, more than likely.
"I know you're a strong one because you feel hunger." I felt myself blink in surprise, as my head tilted to the left. The man only sighed. "Normal souls like me and most of the other people don't need to eat, never feel hunger, only thirst." That was... odd, to say the least. Those who were weak never felt the pain of going hungry? I wonder if there was a deeper meaning to that? "You were saved for that reason alone. She saw that you had potential, that your soul wasn't as weak as the others. Your growling stomach saved you." As rude as it was, I did not feel very grateful. Perhaps in time, that might change.
Even after after months passed, it did not. Sitting at the end of a long, but short table, there was a small, aged woman sitting there. In spite of her stature, she was no less fierce for it. The face of the woman was covered in wrinkles, making her scowling face all the more intimidating. Her skin was a darker tone, tanned, giving her skin a leathery appearance to it. She wore a Kimono, much like almost everyone I have met so far, but the ones she had was different. The clothing she wore was long, elegant, made of something expensive. I should know, I was the one tasked with making them. It had vibrant oranges, with deep purple highlights contrasting it. Her hair was a grayed white, different to my own, yet similar. She was wearing her locks in a bun, with two sticks running through it. No doubt one of the servants did it for her.
She had a bowl of... something in front her, clearly enjoying the finer things in the afterlife. I looked towards her with a bit of apprehension. She had called for me, and that rarely went well. Even with my growing apprehension, I walked over as calmly as I could towards her. I stood, waiting for her to let me sit. She did not grant me that permission. I was sick to my stomach, nervous of her. I always would be. She was a bad person, I could see it through the actions and orders she gave out to the people below her on a daily basis.
She took a bite of whatever it was she had before her. Even after all my time here, I was no expert on the dishes they served. Her eyes shone with a serious glint, letting me know that I had better tell her something good. "The next model is almost ready. As soon as the parts arrive, I will be able to get you at least ten automatics." My voice was a dull monotone, as if dead and used to betraying my morals. And I had. Her eyes twinkled with wicked delight at my words. I had told her what she wanted to hear. My stomach tied itself into knots at the expression.
"Good, you're finally making yourself useful. Now hurry up go, the shipment should be here early in the evening. With this, we should have enough to take over those rats in the ninety eighth district." That got me to flinch, quite violently I might add. I was well known in the community, because I have one job in this nightmare of a town. I live the ninety seventh district. There are lots of unsavory individuals over here. This place is changing me, warping me and my talents into something they approve of.
It scares me.
I did not respond to her order verbally, only nodding my head as I left is silence. She humphed in response, but otherwise said nothing, happy with her plans of grandeur. I was stuck here, a servant to that woman, trapped in a debt that I could never pay off, never be allowed to pay off. There was a crushing weight in my chest, two choices threatening to swallow me whole. I could either sit back and continue working for this evil woman, throwing away my heart to evil... or I could end it all. With choices like that, it is a wonder how this world has the audacity to claim itself as heaven. I laughed at the irony.
Because all I see is Hell.
]
The hollows were starting to appear, crawling out of their shadowy gateways, making for a truly frightening sight. And all I needed to do was kill one or more of them. Other shinigami did this all the time, and I was an average shinigami, so I should be able to do the same, right? I steadied my blade, still not comfortable with wielding a bladed weapon. I was able to do so, but I found myself better with... other weapons. I waited, watching the fallen spirits making their way towards us. I would have preferred not having to do this, but do this I must.
There was one approaching me, thankfully enough. It felt odd thinking it good that danger was coming my way. Regardless, with both hands on my blade, I met the beast half way, with my own cautious steps. Whatever the spirit had once been, it had become something less than savory to look at. I pitted it, knowing how tragic a fate it had. But Hopefully I could free it from its cursed existence. The hollow took the form of a large spider, with a mask that would make children cry from a single glance, worse than any boogieman hiding in their closets or under their beds.
And it swung a limb at me, aiming to cut me in two. I raised my unnamed blade to try and block the sharpened leg. It worked... mostly. I was thrown back from the staggering strength the beast possessed, nearly knocking the blade from my hand. I landed on my butt, before falling to my back. My arms were trembling, my hands were struggling to hold the blasted sword, and I could swear that I could hear eerily familiar laughing from somewhere. So this is why everyone else got into groups, huh? Made sense. I guess I was weaker than I expecting.
A blade came down, trying to impale me through the chest. I only barely managed to roll out of the way. The blade was the hollow, trying to kill me before eating me. It grew impatient, as it snapped its fangs at me. It was all I could to to to block with my katana, making a gash in its face. It refused to stop though, bearing teeth at me, pressing down with strength I could not hope to match. It was only a matter of time before it broke through my pitiful defenses, and I left this world for another one. I could not help but remember that night those years ago...
It had taken me too long to free myself from that evil woman and her mob. Too long to muster up the courage to fight the evil I helped fuel. I was as guilty as the rest of them, supporting evil though my cowardice. But tonight was the night to end all others. Come tomorrow, either I died, or they did. And to be honest, I really did not care which of us was left standing. I was the personal supplier of that woman and her goons. I made all of the armor, the weapons, even certain vehicles that could be made from the basic materials I had to work with.
I had made her the strongest mob boss of the back thirty districts, by giving them the one thing that no one else had. I had given them the gun. I was sure that I had been something amazing when I had been alive, because I had made so many different rifles for them. I gave them simple ones, barely a few steps above the flintlock. I needed to stay useful to that witch, so I did the minim to keep her and her forces happy, to make them lazy and dependent on the marvel that was the gun. I had made something better for myself, going with a modern pistol to give myself the edge. Along with a few surprises to finish the night.
I stood in front of the mansion that she lived in. The one where most of her operations took place in. I had been running around all night, setting up the finishing touches for my departure from this horrid place. I felt a pit in my gut, realizing that I was almost enjoying this, to finally see the evil my hands have created, to see them do what they were made to do. I was dressed in pieces of armor, knowing the fight that was about to take place. It was too late to turn back now though. It was too late for any of us. I kicked down the door to the building. I wanted to personally see her off.
There were two guards inside, clearly not expecting anyone to try anything here. They both had rifles that I had made for them, currently moving them to a firing position. It was a shame that I was faster with my pistol. Two loud bangs were heard, and they dropped. I could feel the blood splatter on my face. It took all my might to keep moving on. A frightened maid came in to see what had happened. She screamed at the sight of me. "If you value your life, run, and do not look back." I told her, passing by. My resolve shaken, but unbroken.
As I walked through the halls, I could hear explosions outside, quickly followed my screaming. My heart hardened, as I continued on my path. An explosion rocked the mansion, and I knew this was the end. Stood in front of her room, taking on final breath, steeling my resolve, before opening the door, gun in hand. I heard a bang, followed by a scream of pain. The funny thing was though... I had yet to shoot her. The side of my face was torn open by a bullet, destroying my left eye. Blood poured out of the wound, as I held my hand to it in shock.
"I should've known you'd try something like this, but you seemed so content in that little workshop I gave you." She said, holding a rifle. How had I been so stupid as to think she would not take one for herself. "What made you finally snap, huh? One too many hot days with those ovens of yours? So why?" She demanded, knowing that she lost. The two of them could smell the smoke, and she had missed her only chance to kill him by a hair. Even if she managed to beat him, she was far too old to escape the building before the flames caught up to her.
I glared at her with my remaining eye, only the strength of my will keeping me going. I aimed my own gun, unbound by a single shot. I stood tall, as tall as I could anyway. "You saved my from a pitiful death. For that, you have my thanks, and had my loyalty." I told her honestly. "But I would throw away my pride, my honor, and even my life, to save even one life. You and your group were not going to stop, and I had thrown away my morals for too long."
This only angered her. "Your MORALS!? What morals!? You armed us, you're just as much a killer as the rest of us! You think you'll survive out there with that attitude!? Hollows aren't the only thing that'll kill you! The reapers are going to hear about this, they'll-" A loud yell was heard outside, catching both of our
attentions. The yell was otherworldly, and not in the good way. She started laughing. "I guess I was wrong then! At least you die with me tonight! Enjoy rotting in the bottom of a hollow's stomach, boy! YAHAHAHAHA!" I decided to end her before the flames reached us. I made it painless, with a single shot to the head.
I ran out of the flaming building, nearly getting caught in the fire I had started. Explosives experts were to be feared. As was the scene outside. All the buildings of the town had caught fire, and screaming was all that could be heard. But it was not the fire causing the screams, or at least not the fire alone. Giant beasts, with features I cared not to describe, ravaged the burning buildings, ignoring the flames, and plucking people from their burning homes... and eating them. I stood there in horror, unable to believe my eyes... eye.
I quickly took aim at the closet beast, and fired away at it till my clip emptied. This only gained its attention, facing me now. I was scared, frightened, unable to move, at the creature descended, slamming on top of me. It took a sick satisfaction in what must have been my horrified expression. "Well, well, what do we have here?" It spoke in a distorted tone, making me fear for my life even more. "I honestly can't tell what you are. You feel like an especially powerful soul, but, for some reason, you feel like one of us. Care to... enlighten me before you die? Hehehehe."
"CONNOR!" I heard a voice call out my name. Suddenly, the hollow over me started fading away. I looked around, and saw four of my classmates had come to my aid. I was... surprised, to say the least. To think they knew my name, let alone cared enough to help me. One of the men in the group offered his hand. I took it with only a little hesitation. "Alright, how about you stick with us. All we need to do is kill one, right?" I stared at him for a half a second in shock, before nodding my head in conformation. For the next hour, the five of us stuck together, killing those cursed beasts. And in the end, we all managed to pass.
The graduation ceremony was quite lovely, I had to admit. There might not have been anyone too important there, but there was a happy tone in the air. It was like the dawn that came after the darkest night, and it left you with the warmth of knowing that you had managed to survive, that the world was done attacking you for now. Everyone, even myself, had managed to relax after that stressful night in the human world. I had thanked each of my group members after it was all said and done. The good mood was infectious, knowing that no one died.
The teachers had given a speech to us, something they had probably given a thousand times considering how long we spirits lived, and the former students celebrated in their own ways. Friends had gone off to do their own thing, mostly bars and women in the higher districts, ignoring teachers warnings that they should go light. They ignored them. We all did. We had two days before we were to move into our new barracks, so there was more than enough time. For once in my life, I was unable to keep the smile off my face, even if it was hidden behind a mask.
I myself left for a bar, unwilling to let myself not enjoy this day. It was a new start to a new life. One where I was free to help the people. I could become a hero that saved everyone. I would help those who were unable to save themselves... finally, I could show everyone that I am someone that just wants to save lives, who- 'murdered an entire district to avenge his shattered moral code.' His eye shot open, as his smile fell from his face in an instant. He looked around, trying to fine where that voice came from.
It continued. 'You, who ran away like a coward, leaving them all behind to suffer for your crimes against humanity.' His breathing quickened, mildly realizing that he was starting to hyperventilate. The voice was hauntingly familiar. I knew that voice, why did I know that voice!? 'And yet, hehe, here you, living this life to the fullest, becoming one of those FILTHY HERETICS! And for what!? To SAVE people? You make me laugh! As if you could save anyone with all those blood on those hands!' The voice told me, cutting through me like a knife, bringing me back to that night.
My mouth refused to move, my tongue felt like metal in my mouth, refusing to move. I was scared, my instincts were failing me. This monster had me pinned, with its face hovering inches above my own. "No? Nothing? Heh, your loss. TIME TO DIE!" He screamed. I lacked even the nerve to scream in terror. Just as the teeth came down to crush me to death, something slammed into the giant. It was another one of those beasts, attacking my captor for some reason. "Back off weakling, I want the freak!" It cried, with a voice less warped than the other.
Finally managing to find the courage I had at the start of this horrible night. I quickly got up, and ran for it. There were stables somewhere around here, I just needed to find them then- "Hey, get back here you!" Oh no. I tripped, not quite having my bearings about me thanks to the head wound and the madness of the whole situation. It was a good thing I did, or those claws that passed overhead would have left me dead. I rolled to the side, as another set slammed down at where I was. The two began fighting again, now more concerned on eating one another than me.
I saw the building for the stables, one of the only ones not on fire, and burst into it with as much force as I could muster. The horses were going crazy, and I could hardly blame them. There was only five horses there, so I opened all their pens, freeing them. As the last one started to run off though, I quickly climbed atop of it, riding it to safety, away from this nightmare that I started. I watched, as I fled the burning district. I could see the smoke in the sky, the light of the moon illuminating the destruction, even in the dead of night. The screaming slowly faded away, as I passed out.
-History-
Birthplace:
[New York, United States of America]
Current Residence:
[Soul society, squad 10 barracks]
Memorable Figures:
None.History:
My one weary eye cracked open, before immediately slamming shut. I had just woken up from his spot on the floor. I was spread out and lying face down on a patch of burnt grass, and I could still smell the fire that had once been. I was trying to remember what had happened and where I was. Broken pictures, memories, what might be memories, flashed before my eyes. Had I been fighting someone? There was a man, dressed in black robes with a sword and only screamed the word 'flex' over and over again. "....I had way too much to drink last night. Stupid *****." I told myself, finally having enough of hugging the earth.
Struggling to stand, I pushed myself up, hearing a strangely closeby chain. It took me a minute, but I finally managed to get into a sitting position. I started looking around the area, trying to find where the noise was coming from. It only got louder as I turned about. It was making me paranoid. Then I felt something move around on my chest, instinctively grabbing at it with inhuman speeds. Well, I found the chain. Turning my head down, I gave it a once-over. It was a short chain with only four and a half links on it. My confusion reflected on my face, as I gave it a questioning glance. I tried to tug it off. "How did this get he-eeeeeeeear!" I cried out in pain, pulling too sharply.
I released the thing as if it were something dangerous, dropping the chain. I started rubbing the area of my chest around the strange metal plate, somehow overtop my clothes. I decided to ignore the chain for now, slowly looking over the rest of my body. I was dressed mostly in black, with a red shirt. No... That wasn't right, I thought as I squinted. No, this was a white shirt. It only looked red because it was drenched in blood. My own blood most likely. I mustered up the energy to crawl over to a tree. "Ugh, have to call Mr.******." I had managed to get halfway to my feet, when a bright light started shining in the middle of the clearing. My eyes burned from the unexpected light.
I heard the crunching of leaves, and they were growing ever louder. I quickly got over the pain, and looked at the person approaching me. The person, it's a man. He had little style to his messy black hair. Piercing cold blue eyes looked down on him. It was a shinigami. He was wearing a shinigami uniform, even if it was slightly modified. I think he's trying to look edgy with that hood attached? I wasn't sure how I knew the term 'shinigami', but my blood ran cold at the sight of him. It was odd, but I knew he wasn't there to help me to a hospital.
He was here to reap my soul.
But I wouldn't let him.
But I wouldn't let him.
My eyes creaked opened slowly, as a furious pounding was heard on my door. I turned to the window on the opposite side of the room. I could see outside that the sun was only beginning to rise, with the orange splashing against the deep navy blue, creating all sorts of purples of varying shades. A fading beauty, coming in to end the night. And my sleep. The alarm clock went off a few moments later, waking my fellow students in this rotten place. This was the Shinigami training school, a way to become part of the military of the dead, an army of souls, those united against those who have become lost in their passing from the realm of the living. Not that anyone here could claim to have passed successfully regardless. There were four people here, myself included, all training and learning how to become something that could be considered respectable to those in power, trying to make us into good little killers for them. I hated it, unlike most of the others. They cared not what they were being turned into, so long as they could get a decent rank in the forces.
They wanted to become killers, to slay any ghost that tried to throw off the balance of the living and the dead. But what kind of hypocrite was I to judge them? I who deserved nothing but death and torture for my actions. I sighed to myself, as I prepared for the day as quickly as I could. I got dressed in the standard garb of the student soul reaper, something I still could not understand. The clothing was so baggy, and had two layers of what I could only call a shirt- it mattered not, so I stopped thinking about it and dressed myself, placing a fox mask over my face to finish the look.
My roommates got up, getting ready for the last day of classes. The three of them talked among themselves, saying how they were going to ace this last test. I scowled behind my mask. The final test, the last bit of proof that we needed to present to the teachers, and more importantly, the captains of the thirteen court guard squads, that we were every bit the capable killers that they needed us to be. We were to go out to the living world, as a group, and slay hollows. I sighed to myself, leaving the room to head to the last of my classes. As I left though, I could not help but reflect on how I ended up here all those years ago...
My eyes snapped open, as I breathed in a deep breath, gasping like a fish out of water. I started panting and wheezing, almost choking. There was something wrong with my throat because it burned like crazy. It was so dry, like I have not had anything to drink in days. I brought my hands back to my neck as I started painfully coughing and hacking. I could feel tears streaming down my face as I hunched over. I took a look around, trying to find out where I was. I found that I was on the side of a small grassy creek. It had steep walls, maybe at a sixty degree angle, but the water was shallow, barely enough to get my feet wet.
That mattered not though, because as soon as I saw the water, I jumped at it, drinking from the small crook greedily. I felt weak. All my limbs felt like jelly, and for some reason my left eye refused to work. I groaned while I drank, as I brought my hand my eye, trying to see if anything was covering it. My body tensed in shock. There was indeed something covering my eye. I took it off, and saw it was... some sort of bone? I wanted to cry at how random this all was. I tried to recall, tried to remember how I got here. I got a migraine for my efforts. I could feel the heat of the sun on my skin, could feel it start to burn my face and legs. I was dressed in a weird half robe, barely passing the halfway point on my thighs. How indecent.
Even still, I gave myself a few minutes before deciding to get up. I was shaky on my feet. "I can not believe I just drank that..." Just how long was I out here for that I was desperate enough to drink from a shallow muddy stream? Days? Weeks? If so, why am I not dead then? I needed answers, and I would not find them here. I had to lean on my knees just to stay on my feet. Carefully, I walked out of the water. I was unable to hold back a groan, already missing the cool water. Getting back on track, I continued to walk, trying to find someone that could help.
Unsurprisingly, the day flew by, with teachers going easy on us in preparation for our 'final exam', to determine if we can go to the squads, or spend another year here. Or worse. There was no helping my blackened mood. I hated the act of killing, of violence in general, it all felt so meaningless to me. But there was no room for emotions in war. Kill or be killed, that is how I was meant to live from now on. I had no right to complain, I chose this path for myself, and I was going to follow it till the end, no matter how bloody.
"Alright maggots!" A gruff voice called out. This was it, the end of one road, and the start of something worse. My hands clenched. My entire class were in a group, as instructed. I was standing in the back, unwilling to be anywhere else. The group consisted of over thirty of us baby reapers, standing in one of the training fields. I could count only five black clad warriors, showing all the protection they would bother to offer us. But that was the point, was it not? To prove ourselves that we were as good as them or better?
This was all meaningless. None of this had a point. I should just leave, just disappear from this place and 'And what? Become a family man? As if someone would go for your ugly mug. As if someone would think bloody hands are attractive.' A voice told him, instantly shutting him down. It was right, there was no other path for him. He needed to do this. He needed to become a reaper. "In a moment, we're all going to be headed to the world of the living, understood?" The instructor continued, telling us what we already knew.
"Once we arrive, we will be activating hollow bait. After that, you all must fight like your lives depend on it. In order to pass, you must kill at least two hollows. You will use all the skills and knowledge that you've acquired over your years here to aid you in this fight. This is your trial by fire. While you need one kill to pass, more than one looks better. Kill as many as you can. The Shinigami behind me are not here to save you if you screw up. They are only here to handle anything too big, on the off chance something too much to handle shows its ugly head."
He explained this, earning himself a nervously whispering crowd. The instructor yelled at them to shut up so he could continue. He went on for another ten minutes about how to remain safe, and how we were not to wonder off, something about deserters not being tolerated in their ranks. I mostly tuned him out, waiting patiently for the portal to be opened. I just wanted to get this over with and be done with it. There was no worry for me. I knew that I could handle myself in a fight, as little as I enjoyed doing the act. After another five minutes of warnings, the portal was opened, and we crossed over.
I quickly found myself walking through an open field, not a tree for shade for miles. Sighing sadly, I picked up my feet and started walking. My body was thankfully starting to wake up. My body felt like mix of discomforting things. It was like my muscles was trying to move through jello while being baked at the same time. My trek to find civilization was a long one. It took me hours to find houses and buildings, and finding them left me more confused than hopeful. Shacks, every building was an old wooden shack, looking like they would fit right in the eighth century. Then again, I really did not care at the moment, I was too hungry and tired. I could hear people talking in the distance, but what I had not realized at the time was that I did not hear cars or vehicles. I was stumbling forward, trying to find someone who could help me, find anyone would would help.
I was desperate for it.
As I stumbled my way into the small village, I tried to make heads or tails of the place. The roads were dirt, few buildings there were, were barely anything more than shacks, and none of them had glass or concrete. It boggled my mind. Why did everything look so basic? I saw a small counter built into a building. I managed to move my tired feet over towards it. My legs were on fire, and my weak skin burned all too easily under the unrelenting sun. There was a bored man behind the counter, leaning his head on his hand, as he looked for potential customers, not seeing me until I got closer.
Once he spotted me, his whole demeanor changed into something happy and friendly, his smile was too sweet, taking on a sleazy look. That change lasted but a moment. Getting a better look at my limping self, his face fell, and he gave me a half-grimace, giving me the most sympathy I would be receiving this day. "Woah, what happened to you? You look like you got in a fight with a hollow." He told me, but I did not have to know the term to understand what he was saying. I was a mess. With pinkish-red skin, a missing eye, and hair long enough to reach my lower back, as well as numerous cuts and bruises, and burn marks in my calves. I was lucky to be alive.
"Please... help..." It hurt to even speak. My voice was scratchy. I was starving, thirsty, and dead tired. Still, the man seemed unimpressed, rolling his eyes, leaning on the counter as he was previously. "And why should I? You clearly don't have any money. What do I get out of this?" He told me heartlessly. I could feel the hope in my chest. It was quickly dying. It felt like a crack on my soul, widening with each passing minute. I had nothing I could offer him, nothing to motivate him to help me. "Well, that is unless you want to give me that necklace of yours." He told me.
If my eyes were not so tired, I would have blinked in confusion. Lifelessly, I reached for my neck, unaware that I was wearing anything aside from this robe-thing. As he said, there was something there. Grasping at the warm metal, I moved it towards my field of vision. It was a silver chain, but I could also feel a weight on it. sliding my hand further down, my hand met a silver cross, with a smaller cross embedded inside the silver, and a silver loop attached to the center of it. The smaller cross was made of a navy blue gem, and was mostly in the middle of the loop.
I stared at it in wonder. If I gave this to the man, he might help me. My eye flickered to the man in question. He looked smug, knowing that I would give it up. He even had his hand outstretched. Waiting. But I hugged the cross closer to my chest, as I took a step back. For whatever reason, even with the prospect of being fed, I was not willing to part with the silver cross. I started to limp away, needing to find someone willing to help me. I managed three feet before I heard a soft thump behind me. I turned to see what it was, and received a fist to the gut for the action. "Alright, guess I'll just have to take it from your corpse."
The blow knocked the wind out of me. I was gasping for breath, but the man was unforgiving in his assault. He punched me three more times in the chest, before knocking me over. I was starting to catch my breath, when he jumped on me, trying to get the cross from my hand. But I refused to release it. He struggled with it for all of two seconds, before he started to punch my face. It was hard to stay awake, but I could not afford to fall asleep here, to lose to this man. Getting as much air as I could, my right hand grabbed his robe, and with a surprising amount of strength, I pulled him towards me, while my head flew up, causing our skulls to collide.
The man flew back, but I refused let go of him, and pulled him down for another headbutt. I heard something crack, but ignored it, pulling the now unconscious man off me. I tried to get to my feet, but there was so much pain. The groan that came out of my mouth sounded gravelly. My stomach rumbled loudly. This was it. I was not even able to get to my feet. Now what could I do? "That was impressive boy." I heard the creaking voice of an old woman call out to me. I managed to turn my head towards the voice. There was a woman in orange, surrounded by at least five grizzled men. It was hard to focus my vision. "I can help you. For a price." There was danger in that offer, but I could only nod my head in response, before losing consciousness.
I should have told her no.
The group arrived into the land of the living after a journey though an odd purple tunnel. The students took in the scenery like a sponge. We are in a large grassy field that stretched on for what must have been miles. In the day it must have been quite the sight to take in. Unfortunately, it was not day, and the moonlit night gave it an almost haunting appearance. I would have loved to build a home here if I had been given the chance. Away from all the noise, it was peaceful. That would all change very soon, and the reapers gave us two minutes to gather our wits about us.
I could feel the cross around my neck. It felt like a million pounds right now. The weight of taking a life, of actively trying to slay something was a heavy burden. I had to remind myself that I would be passing them on, that I would be sending them off to heaven.... but then I remember the kind of 'heaven' the soul society really was. I remember when one of the teachers had caught sight of it once. They claimed it was a Quincy cross because of the blue jewel in the center of it. Luckily for me, they quickly reminded them that Quincy Crosses had five sides.
I returned the cross to my 'shirt', and placed a hand on my blade. Yep, still there. It was a nasty weapon. I have yet to learn the name of it, but I can hear it speak, so that must mean I am close. Sadly, it speaks in insults and demands blood whenever it does talk to me. I have yet to use the bade in a fight, sparing or otherwise. Meditating with the angry weapon have gotten me mixed results. Sometimes it works, but most of the time it ignores me, and berates me afterwards. I have yet to make heads or tails of the sword.
My classmates got into groups of five, bunching together to ensure survival. I remained alone. It was a foolish decision, of that I have no doubt. But that is just how I wanted it. To remain alone. If I were to fight, I did not want to become an unnecessary burden to them. Those people who earned the right to be here. "Alright, time to show us what you've got punks. Prepare for battle!" The man yelled out to us one last time. I drew my sword, along with everyone else, the shinigami included. They wanted to be ready for anything. Time to do or die. I have to wonder though, which outcome I would prefer to happen?
"While ya eat, you'd better be listening newbie, cause I don't like repeating myself." I simply nodded my head, eating the stew they had prepared. My skin was still red from the walk yesterday, but at least they had given me a few meals, though their reasons were still unexplained. Until now that is. A man had woken me up ten minutes ago, telling me that I needed to know some things about where I was. The man was built like a bear, looking like he could lift a tree. He was dressed in a red robe-thing, made of decent quality materials. He had a face that was hard as stone, and a long jagged scar under his left eye. His hair was black and short, and looked very greasy.
And now here I sit across from this man, at a table with no chairs, eating as he speaks. To say it was unnerving would be an understatement. "You are dead." I wanted to be shocked, I really did, but from everything I have seen so far, I lacked the will to be so. He caught on immediately. "Good, you already know, that'll make this quicker." He nodded in slight approval. "Once a human dies, their soul doesn't simply pass on to the next life. In order to pass on, a Shinigami must send them here." That got my attention.
"If a soul is not passed on, then they start to decay. It doesn't happen instantly, but over the course of many months, to even years. Once it happens though, those poor saps turn into something nasty." He shook his head in disgust. "The souls turn into monsters known as hollows, beasts that prey on other souls. Souls like us." His tone was grim, making sure I understood the point. I most certainly did. "Every hollow is different, but they all share two traits. One, the have a big hole in the center of their chests, representing their heartless nature. The second is that they all wear bone masks."
That part confused me. Did they wear skull masks? Again, the man caught onto my confusion. "You're a silent brat, aintcha? I call them bone masks, because they sure don't look like skulls, and I don't care to find out more. The point is, they hunt souls, eat souls, and are attracted to strong souls." He leveled a glare at me. "And you have a strong soul." I felt my eye widen in both surprise, and fear. Was he telling me that these hollow things were going to be trying to kill me? With how my luck was going, more than likely.
"I know you're a strong one because you feel hunger." I felt myself blink in surprise, as my head tilted to the left. The man only sighed. "Normal souls like me and most of the other people don't need to eat, never feel hunger, only thirst." That was... odd, to say the least. Those who were weak never felt the pain of going hungry? I wonder if there was a deeper meaning to that? "You were saved for that reason alone. She saw that you had potential, that your soul wasn't as weak as the others. Your growling stomach saved you." As rude as it was, I did not feel very grateful. Perhaps in time, that might change.
Even after after months passed, it did not. Sitting at the end of a long, but short table, there was a small, aged woman sitting there. In spite of her stature, she was no less fierce for it. The face of the woman was covered in wrinkles, making her scowling face all the more intimidating. Her skin was a darker tone, tanned, giving her skin a leathery appearance to it. She wore a Kimono, much like almost everyone I have met so far, but the ones she had was different. The clothing she wore was long, elegant, made of something expensive. I should know, I was the one tasked with making them. It had vibrant oranges, with deep purple highlights contrasting it. Her hair was a grayed white, different to my own, yet similar. She was wearing her locks in a bun, with two sticks running through it. No doubt one of the servants did it for her.
She had a bowl of... something in front her, clearly enjoying the finer things in the afterlife. I looked towards her with a bit of apprehension. She had called for me, and that rarely went well. Even with my growing apprehension, I walked over as calmly as I could towards her. I stood, waiting for her to let me sit. She did not grant me that permission. I was sick to my stomach, nervous of her. I always would be. She was a bad person, I could see it through the actions and orders she gave out to the people below her on a daily basis.
She took a bite of whatever it was she had before her. Even after all my time here, I was no expert on the dishes they served. Her eyes shone with a serious glint, letting me know that I had better tell her something good. "The next model is almost ready. As soon as the parts arrive, I will be able to get you at least ten automatics." My voice was a dull monotone, as if dead and used to betraying my morals. And I had. Her eyes twinkled with wicked delight at my words. I had told her what she wanted to hear. My stomach tied itself into knots at the expression.
"Good, you're finally making yourself useful. Now hurry up go, the shipment should be here early in the evening. With this, we should have enough to take over those rats in the ninety eighth district." That got me to flinch, quite violently I might add. I was well known in the community, because I have one job in this nightmare of a town. I live the ninety seventh district. There are lots of unsavory individuals over here. This place is changing me, warping me and my talents into something they approve of.
It scares me.
I did not respond to her order verbally, only nodding my head as I left is silence. She humphed in response, but otherwise said nothing, happy with her plans of grandeur. I was stuck here, a servant to that woman, trapped in a debt that I could never pay off, never be allowed to pay off. There was a crushing weight in my chest, two choices threatening to swallow me whole. I could either sit back and continue working for this evil woman, throwing away my heart to evil... or I could end it all. With choices like that, it is a wonder how this world has the audacity to claim itself as heaven. I laughed at the irony.
Because all I see is Hell.
]
The hollows were starting to appear, crawling out of their shadowy gateways, making for a truly frightening sight. And all I needed to do was kill one or more of them. Other shinigami did this all the time, and I was an average shinigami, so I should be able to do the same, right? I steadied my blade, still not comfortable with wielding a bladed weapon. I was able to do so, but I found myself better with... other weapons. I waited, watching the fallen spirits making their way towards us. I would have preferred not having to do this, but do this I must.
There was one approaching me, thankfully enough. It felt odd thinking it good that danger was coming my way. Regardless, with both hands on my blade, I met the beast half way, with my own cautious steps. Whatever the spirit had once been, it had become something less than savory to look at. I pitted it, knowing how tragic a fate it had. But Hopefully I could free it from its cursed existence. The hollow took the form of a large spider, with a mask that would make children cry from a single glance, worse than any boogieman hiding in their closets or under their beds.
And it swung a limb at me, aiming to cut me in two. I raised my unnamed blade to try and block the sharpened leg. It worked... mostly. I was thrown back from the staggering strength the beast possessed, nearly knocking the blade from my hand. I landed on my butt, before falling to my back. My arms were trembling, my hands were struggling to hold the blasted sword, and I could swear that I could hear eerily familiar laughing from somewhere. So this is why everyone else got into groups, huh? Made sense. I guess I was weaker than I expecting.
A blade came down, trying to impale me through the chest. I only barely managed to roll out of the way. The blade was the hollow, trying to kill me before eating me. It grew impatient, as it snapped its fangs at me. It was all I could to to to block with my katana, making a gash in its face. It refused to stop though, bearing teeth at me, pressing down with strength I could not hope to match. It was only a matter of time before it broke through my pitiful defenses, and I left this world for another one. I could not help but remember that night those years ago...
It had taken me too long to free myself from that evil woman and her mob. Too long to muster up the courage to fight the evil I helped fuel. I was as guilty as the rest of them, supporting evil though my cowardice. But tonight was the night to end all others. Come tomorrow, either I died, or they did. And to be honest, I really did not care which of us was left standing. I was the personal supplier of that woman and her goons. I made all of the armor, the weapons, even certain vehicles that could be made from the basic materials I had to work with.
I had made her the strongest mob boss of the back thirty districts, by giving them the one thing that no one else had. I had given them the gun. I was sure that I had been something amazing when I had been alive, because I had made so many different rifles for them. I gave them simple ones, barely a few steps above the flintlock. I needed to stay useful to that witch, so I did the minim to keep her and her forces happy, to make them lazy and dependent on the marvel that was the gun. I had made something better for myself, going with a modern pistol to give myself the edge. Along with a few surprises to finish the night.
I stood in front of the mansion that she lived in. The one where most of her operations took place in. I had been running around all night, setting up the finishing touches for my departure from this horrid place. I felt a pit in my gut, realizing that I was almost enjoying this, to finally see the evil my hands have created, to see them do what they were made to do. I was dressed in pieces of armor, knowing the fight that was about to take place. It was too late to turn back now though. It was too late for any of us. I kicked down the door to the building. I wanted to personally see her off.
There were two guards inside, clearly not expecting anyone to try anything here. They both had rifles that I had made for them, currently moving them to a firing position. It was a shame that I was faster with my pistol. Two loud bangs were heard, and they dropped. I could feel the blood splatter on my face. It took all my might to keep moving on. A frightened maid came in to see what had happened. She screamed at the sight of me. "If you value your life, run, and do not look back." I told her, passing by. My resolve shaken, but unbroken.
As I walked through the halls, I could hear explosions outside, quickly followed my screaming. My heart hardened, as I continued on my path. An explosion rocked the mansion, and I knew this was the end. Stood in front of her room, taking on final breath, steeling my resolve, before opening the door, gun in hand. I heard a bang, followed by a scream of pain. The funny thing was though... I had yet to shoot her. The side of my face was torn open by a bullet, destroying my left eye. Blood poured out of the wound, as I held my hand to it in shock.
"I should've known you'd try something like this, but you seemed so content in that little workshop I gave you." She said, holding a rifle. How had I been so stupid as to think she would not take one for herself. "What made you finally snap, huh? One too many hot days with those ovens of yours? So why?" She demanded, knowing that she lost. The two of them could smell the smoke, and she had missed her only chance to kill him by a hair. Even if she managed to beat him, she was far too old to escape the building before the flames caught up to her.
I glared at her with my remaining eye, only the strength of my will keeping me going. I aimed my own gun, unbound by a single shot. I stood tall, as tall as I could anyway. "You saved my from a pitiful death. For that, you have my thanks, and had my loyalty." I told her honestly. "But I would throw away my pride, my honor, and even my life, to save even one life. You and your group were not going to stop, and I had thrown away my morals for too long."
This only angered her. "Your MORALS!? What morals!? You armed us, you're just as much a killer as the rest of us! You think you'll survive out there with that attitude!? Hollows aren't the only thing that'll kill you! The reapers are going to hear about this, they'll-" A loud yell was heard outside, catching both of our
attentions. The yell was otherworldly, and not in the good way. She started laughing. "I guess I was wrong then! At least you die with me tonight! Enjoy rotting in the bottom of a hollow's stomach, boy! YAHAHAHAHA!" I decided to end her before the flames reached us. I made it painless, with a single shot to the head.
I ran out of the flaming building, nearly getting caught in the fire I had started. Explosives experts were to be feared. As was the scene outside. All the buildings of the town had caught fire, and screaming was all that could be heard. But it was not the fire causing the screams, or at least not the fire alone. Giant beasts, with features I cared not to describe, ravaged the burning buildings, ignoring the flames, and plucking people from their burning homes... and eating them. I stood there in horror, unable to believe my eyes... eye.
I quickly took aim at the closet beast, and fired away at it till my clip emptied. This only gained its attention, facing me now. I was scared, frightened, unable to move, at the creature descended, slamming on top of me. It took a sick satisfaction in what must have been my horrified expression. "Well, well, what do we have here?" It spoke in a distorted tone, making me fear for my life even more. "I honestly can't tell what you are. You feel like an especially powerful soul, but, for some reason, you feel like one of us. Care to... enlighten me before you die? Hehehehe."
"CONNOR!" I heard a voice call out my name. Suddenly, the hollow over me started fading away. I looked around, and saw four of my classmates had come to my aid. I was... surprised, to say the least. To think they knew my name, let alone cared enough to help me. One of the men in the group offered his hand. I took it with only a little hesitation. "Alright, how about you stick with us. All we need to do is kill one, right?" I stared at him for a half a second in shock, before nodding my head in conformation. For the next hour, the five of us stuck together, killing those cursed beasts. And in the end, we all managed to pass.
The graduation ceremony was quite lovely, I had to admit. There might not have been anyone too important there, but there was a happy tone in the air. It was like the dawn that came after the darkest night, and it left you with the warmth of knowing that you had managed to survive, that the world was done attacking you for now. Everyone, even myself, had managed to relax after that stressful night in the human world. I had thanked each of my group members after it was all said and done. The good mood was infectious, knowing that no one died.
The teachers had given a speech to us, something they had probably given a thousand times considering how long we spirits lived, and the former students celebrated in their own ways. Friends had gone off to do their own thing, mostly bars and women in the higher districts, ignoring teachers warnings that they should go light. They ignored them. We all did. We had two days before we were to move into our new barracks, so there was more than enough time. For once in my life, I was unable to keep the smile off my face, even if it was hidden behind a mask.
I myself left for a bar, unwilling to let myself not enjoy this day. It was a new start to a new life. One where I was free to help the people. I could become a hero that saved everyone. I would help those who were unable to save themselves... finally, I could show everyone that I am someone that just wants to save lives, who- 'murdered an entire district to avenge his shattered moral code.' His eye shot open, as his smile fell from his face in an instant. He looked around, trying to fine where that voice came from.
It continued. 'You, who ran away like a coward, leaving them all behind to suffer for your crimes against humanity.' His breathing quickened, mildly realizing that he was starting to hyperventilate. The voice was hauntingly familiar. I knew that voice, why did I know that voice!? 'And yet, hehe, here you, living this life to the fullest, becoming one of those FILTHY HERETICS! And for what!? To SAVE people? You make me laugh! As if you could save anyone with all those blood on those hands!' The voice told me, cutting through me like a knife, bringing me back to that night.
My mouth refused to move, my tongue felt like metal in my mouth, refusing to move. I was scared, my instincts were failing me. This monster had me pinned, with its face hovering inches above my own. "No? Nothing? Heh, your loss. TIME TO DIE!" He screamed. I lacked even the nerve to scream in terror. Just as the teeth came down to crush me to death, something slammed into the giant. It was another one of those beasts, attacking my captor for some reason. "Back off weakling, I want the freak!" It cried, with a voice less warped than the other.
Finally managing to find the courage I had at the start of this horrible night. I quickly got up, and ran for it. There were stables somewhere around here, I just needed to find them then- "Hey, get back here you!" Oh no. I tripped, not quite having my bearings about me thanks to the head wound and the madness of the whole situation. It was a good thing I did, or those claws that passed overhead would have left me dead. I rolled to the side, as another set slammed down at where I was. The two began fighting again, now more concerned on eating one another than me.
I saw the building for the stables, one of the only ones not on fire, and burst into it with as much force as I could muster. The horses were going crazy, and I could hardly blame them. There was only five horses there, so I opened all their pens, freeing them. As the last one started to run off though, I quickly climbed atop of it, riding it to safety, away from this nightmare that I started. I watched, as I fled the burning district. I could see the smoke in the sky, the light of the moon illuminating the destruction, even in the dead of night. The screaming slowly faded away, as I passed out.