Post by Fulfillment on Sept 4, 2013 22:45:37 GMT -5
Kiriko stared down at the lacquered saya that say innocuously atop her desk. She had refused to move her materials into the Captain's office, instead staying in her small neatly oriented space in wait for Tsukimiya-taichou's return. But it had been some days now, months even, and she was beginning to get antsy. A Captain, even a Captain in name only such as herself, should really have the ability to utilize their Zanpakutou. That was the bread and water of a Shinigami after all, and it was only her younger self's foolishness that had stopped Kiriko from learning more from her Zanpakutou spirit earlier. That time of weakness and apprehension was long gone now, Kiriko understood that fact and yet something had held her back from probing deeper – some reluctance that she failed to suss out.
It was a task Kiriko had put off, again and again, until today. Aneue crooned in the background, always present now, always sounding off. There were no excuses anymore, they had been demolished and removed. Kiriko didn't make excuses anymore anyway. She had no need for them like before because now she had ascended to a level of perfection and arrogance that her old self could only dream of. It was all in the way you lived, and with that little twist of logic Kiriko grasped the sheathed sword in one hand. Yes... The way you lived. Her old self would have hidden and cowered at this strange task, an unknown venture. If she hadn't memorized the protocol she had only avoided new experiences. But now, now Kiriko ran head-forward without looking back. Because she was confident that no matter what happened she would make it right. It was a powerful feeling, even regret was no longer valuable. Kiriko realized the mistake of such hubris, but the energy she got from her new found way of life was too great to give it up. The surge of adrenaline when you refused to look back on your actions, it was the best! And that was because Kiriko was the best, but not without her Zanpakutou, not without Gaikotsu Aneue.
Closing her eyes, Kiriko slipped effortlessly into her Inner World, dropping like a stone through calm waters. Once she felt her body settle at the bottom she slowly opened her eyes, exhaling as if she had been holding her breath for a long time instead of merely seconds. The picture that assaulted her senses was achingly familiar despite her old self's intense reluctance to return to this place after her first foray. The ramshackle building was tiny, this particular room only three and a half tatami mats wide, and she sat with her arms curled around her knees, an old and problematic position. Standing, the wet moldy floorboards stared back up at her, here and there the remnants of tatami were stuck to the splintering ground. Even just standing still the floor creaked and groaned as if a massive weight was present, the noise almost drowning out the whine of the wind as it rushed straight through the holes in the rickety walls that were not patched despite the rare piece of parchment that tried valiantly to hold back the gales. A single candle flickered near the door and Kiriko stepped past the stains and into the hallway of the ancient house.
The last time she had come here, she had been terrified before even meeting Aneue. So many fears curled and writhed around this place. Was it a memory or a symbol? This rundown building that represented so many old homes she had stayed in for however many days or weeks her family could afford to pay for the shelter. She had felt, that last time, as if around any corner there would be the heavy footsteps of her Father or the sliding stoop of her Mother. The pulling and tugging of her many siblings or the short shove of an older relation. That life, the grimy, disgusting, needy life, it had felt so cloying last time she had been here. As if Kiriko could never really escape her past. She had felt suffocated, buried, embalmed in dread and history. The shadow of her past, of her family, of her destitution, it had enveloped her until she could no longer breath.
Today. Today things were different. Kiriko looked at the peeling wallpaper and sneered, sliding the screens aside and passing quickly through the assortment of rooms meant to terrify and remind her of a past that had haunted her just as easily as this house could have haunted children in the Human World. Today all she saw when she swept through the kitchen area with the burnt out pit in the middle was ashes, the edges of her vision alight with fire as if the entire scene was slowly burning away into nothingness.
This was her past. This little house, it contained everything painful about that ugly period in her life. All her desperate cries for strength, all her unheard desires, all of her weak and pitiful whining about food and warmth and love. This tiny room, it held within it a myriad of memories. An entire childhood represented by broken down furniture and old picture frames. That cursed family, that cursed history. This was her past, and today she was finally passing on through.
Today none of these old fears mattered, because Kiriko had finally remembered something that had never seemed to bother her before. That one door, off the main room, the old western wooden frame that had never seemed to budge without any apparent lock keeping her out. It had been a mystery long ago, one forgotten amidst the whirl of terrors, but today she recalled that peculiarity with a sort of giddy strength. Today Kiriko knew why that door was there, and finally, how to open it. She reached the precipice without delay, standing stock still in front of the ancient piece of wood. There had been no doorknob last time she had seen this place, but as Kiriko stood there glaring at the door a brass knob suddenly appeared above the discolored knot on the right hand side.
Kiriko smirked to herself, but instead of reaching out for the invitation she pulled back and kicked at the door with a twisting swing. Kiriko was her own person, she needed no invitation to make a claim on her own mind. Her foot smacked resoundingly into the weak wooden construct and it splintered into tiny shards under the force her her blow, the area around her suddenly catching fire as her vision became real. The line of flames fanned out and burned right through the vision of an old rickety building until it had all disappeared revealing a new landscape.
The true landscape.
Her real Inner World.
WC: 1135 | GP: 15 | Total GP: 15
