The Birth of a Shooting Star

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Hanabi

I believe I can even yet remember when I saw the stars for the first time.

370 Posts

Reiatsu155 Defense20 Strength20 Speed55 Spirit60 ApplicationLink

The Birth of a Shooting Star Jun 5, 2015 22:47:34 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Jun 5, 2015 22:47:34 GMT -5

She had been meditating when the thought had come to her. Sitting curled up in the bath as scalding water seared into her flesh, hands dangling over the edge of the ofuro as her fingertips trailed through the clear liquid. Her thoughts had been circling in time with the ripples, a silver edged blade dancing through the dark matter of her brain, cutting and excising all the niggling emotional responses she had had throughout the day. Frustration and failure dogged Hanabi's daily schedule. Nothing she did was ever enough, and that very feeling of an eternal legacy was a weakness she couldn't shed. According to the monster who ruled both under her bed and in her mind, cold white fingers wrapped around the base of her spine and insinuating themselves into her very veins until Hanabi wasn't even her own creature, she was nothing. A nothing full of fatal flaws.

But the harder she struggled to fight against this fate. The harder Hanabi battled her fears, standing to her feet after toppling again and again, the more entrenched the monster's hatred became. There could never be satisfaction, and in that truth she was sinking, falling deep deep deep into the inky blackness of despair. What was life if you couldn't ever succeed? If she had to be nothing, is she really was fated to exist as a puppet at the end of another's strings, then why couldn't she be honestly nothing?

Gone, a whisper in the dark, a ghost tiptoeing through hallways. As a ghost maybe she would be good for something. The plunge as Hanabi ducked under the broiling heat of the water was enough to make her ears pop, her skull pounding from the temperature even as she pressed her body further towards the bottom of the bath. She could drown in here if she wanted to.

It would be the kind of silly death that Kiriko would never live down. A broken toy of hers so inept it had drowned in four feet of water. How the fact would irk that woman. It was almost worth it. The idea tantalizing enough that Hanabi pushed her hands into the walls of the bath, intent on holding herself as far down into its depths as possible as the darkness swirled around her and the world thundered through the bones of her skull.

Like all of her attempts at escape, she was thwarted by her own ill luck, a rapid knock at the door as Yunokawa-sempai's voice bled through. Gargled by water it was still audible, and Hanabi knew that the older girl was about ready to break down the door if Hanabi didn't give up her coveted secrecy. Perhaps she shouldn't have locked the door to the bathing room, it was against regulations after all to lock out the other girls, but she had wanted this moment of privacy even if it came with a demerit later that night.

Popping to the top of the heated pool, hair slick over her shoulders, Hanabi felt her skin steam in the cooler air as she stumbled from the bath. Calling out to reassure Yunokawa-sempai, or at least belay that homicidal rage, what was it some party tonight that the girl needed to primp for? Whatever it was, she would have been caught before she could truly expire if she had stayed in the water – and wouldn't that make things all the worse? It was one thing to shove her stupid death on Kiriko if she actually succeeded in dying in an embarrassing way. It was another to shove her stupid attempt at death on Kiriko when she was still around to face the repercussions of a raging monster.

Slipping on a thin yukata, barely pausing to squeeze the water from her hair, she ducked her head and scurried out the door and down the hall before Yunokawa-sempai could curse her out directly to her face. A blast of jasmine perfume wrapped around her like a scarf but Hanabi only ducked her head further into her chest, ignoring Hinata-shishou's gentle reminder of solidarity.

What did solidarity mean anyway? That there were two of them to suffer together? Hinata-shishou was nice and all, but she couldn't truly take Hanabi's place. There might be two of them in this one body, but it was Hanabi that had to deal with life. Hinata-shishou just got to come along for the ride.

Her feet carried her down hidden hallways, avoiding the areas that would be clogged with the banal banter of actual students. Students still flush with life and cheer and all the hallmarks of the beginnings of their stories. She hated them sometimes, a horrible burning resentment that she knew was horrible of her. It wasn't their fault they could be happy so easily and she was so far behind, that it took so much to make her smile or lift her heart. It wasn't their fault she was a poor excuse for a Shinigami or a puppet, or that her “master” had decided today of all days to rub it in Hanabi's face that she was just an object. A tool that moved only when told to.

Pressing into shadows, she found herself atop the roof without any conscious desire to be there. But staring up at the starry expanse of velvet sky she found it was exactly where she wanted to be. Pressed against the metal railing that was all that stood between her and the rocky path seven stories of dormitory below, Hinata tilted her head back and drank in the sight of all that darkness. Little twinkles of light were all that stood out tonight, the moon lost to its own shadows and all nearby planets in flux.

There was something utterly peaceful about that sight. Standing all alone on the rooftop, wrapped as she was in her damp yukata that allowed the chilled air to encase her in ice. She was aloof, full of an empty void that sucked away all feeling. She was nothing. Just as Kiriko wanted. She was the nothing between the stars. She was the nothing of death, her body cool as interned flesh. The nothing of the promise of snow in a white-white sky. The nothing that stretched and curved around an infinity sign. She was the nothing of matter as small as an atom, the nothing of fire crackling and sending sparks upward to fade into thin air.

Chilled to the bone, she could feel the nothingness spread inward, absorbing all that existed until she was little more than a shell of her former self. Her innards scooped away to reveal skin stretched over emptiness, she was a doll in the shape of a human. And in nothingness there could be no emotions, no regret or pain or fear. No terrible open neediness. No tear stained weaknesses. She was the sky itself, a concave existence. And in that peace Hanabi felt emboldened for the first time that day.

If she was truly nothing, then there was nothing to fear. And Kiriko had to learn some day that you couldn't break your toys without them hitting back. A smile flickered across her frozen face, hair whipping at her cheeks and shoulders like tendrils of ice. One fluid motion and she was gracefully perched atop the railing. Sitting atop the world.

She turned her eyes back upward towards heaven, a delirious laugh clogging in her throat as Hanabi felt the railing slip beneath her feet and she fell into freedom.

WC: 1253 | GP: 25 | Total GP: 25

Kionchi

What's your mask?

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The Birth of a Shooting Star Jun 21, 2015 21:25:54 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Jun 21, 2015 21:25:54 GMT -5

You keep holding the door open for people and then being angry when they don't thank you.

The silver lighter sized capsule rest half-heartily in his lithe sinewy hand. Strands of his long silken black hair slipped over his vision like long black cracks in the window of his vision. The words echoed in his mind again and again and again. Quotes from a dream vivid enough to have fooled the merry idiot into believing he was someone entirely different. Into believing the lies of his dreams over the truth of the world. Into believing he could be allowed the luxury of anger.

They never asked for your help.

Gripping the tube tighter and tighter he clenched his teeth and seethed. The words shouldn't have hit him so hard. That voice from some woman he had never met. That scolding kind of lecture that rang too reminiscent of a nagging wife or lover. The kind of words meant to critique and yet given in such a way that it almost feels like a compliment to the kind of trait that would have made the other fall for you in the first place. The kind of words that causes a pit deep in your stomach that makes you wish they had been spoken to you and you weren't merely the musings of some specter long forgotten.

Some voyeur in some dream to some imaginary couple.

He threw the thing across the courtyard. The darkness always seemed to make the echoing clatter of the rejected device all the more ominous as it bounced off the wall and rolled across the tile. It sounded so hollow. So empty. Like such a useless crutch. And yet how pathetic was he that before he could realized what he was doing he had his hand out-stretched and had begun to stand.

Tch.

It was light. Cold. Durable, at least. Barely scratched. And yet Robert's words had left a sinking impression on the recruit. It wasn't that he was the first to question Kionchi's methods. On the contrary the stupid fox was hard pressed to find many who thought his use of the memory wiping device anything short of insane. And yet there was such an offended determination from the man in the fourth who was himself so desperate to keep his memories his own. To maintain all that Kionchi so frequently discarded. To cling to all his experiences no matter how filthy or impure.

And yet for all the vital knowledge Kionchi had sacrificed for the sake of perfection, why did he find these stupid dreams sometimes the hardest thing to get rid of? These stupid illusions without any basis in reality. Those stupid fantasies that should be the least memorable of all. Since becoming a shinigami there was not a night he didn't remember having a dream. And while he knew how unusual it was to have to rely on artificial means to forget one's nightmares, he never once bothered asking for any further help. After all we all need an escape. And when one has such an opportunity to indulge in such illusions so easily wiped from the face of the earth what right does one have to complain?

But not everyone had been gifted with such a convenience.

An unexpectedly chilly breeze brought to his attention a spec of white in that polished metal lighter. Just a tiny dot in a sea of blackness. A hazy blur far above the rest of the skyline. At one point he thought maybe it was a star. But on closer inspection he realized it was situated atop the roof of the academy dorms behind him. And yet before he could even expand his selfishly restrained perception and try to figure out from spiritual senses alone just who she might be...

Shit.

A sound like bells chiming overwhelmed his senses. The rush of that bitter cold air sliced against his skin. His body felt light. Far too light. His head and hands and legs were numb as he soared toward that light like a meteor

That star. That precious falling star. His body moved on instinct. His mind just went blank. Had he his senses he might have felt the burst of reiryoku under his sandals. In the palms of his hands. The danger of launching oneself backwards. The arrogance and fool-heartiness and impulsiveness of just presuming it was his place to catch. His place to help.

The explosion of reishi was so perfect and precise. Even the thinnest layer of dust on the tile beneath his sandals remained settled and undisturbed by the otherwise violent explosion of energy that burst from his shoes. All of the energy directed at and away from his body. Only a single thin layer of the energy shooting from his hands like he had practiced with Seryu. All of the force directed with such perfect precision that had anyone sensed the flash-step they would never believe it was not calculated and scrutinized down to the very last particle of reiryoku that seemed to carry alongside its owner like a fumes of jet.

Like the tail of a meteor soaring across the night-sky.

His place to shatter that illusion. To catch that falling star. To hold it tight against his body, falling down to earth with her in his arms. Their obsidian hair billowing in the wind as her snow white yukata mingled timidly with the midnight black of his shikakusho. He looked down with a panicked frown, still blissfully unaware that he was holding his own charge even when his sandals finally reached the ground far below the imposing tower.

Back in the courtyard the abandoned kikanshinki clattered against the tile.

His mind still as empty as his senses dulled, the clueless bodyguard blinked twice in shock as he felt the spiritual energy of the young student in his arms. It couldn't be her, could it? She was in the academy, right? A student without fear living in the protection of Kiriko. A soul with all the padding of the captain's protective embrace. Or maybe the security of her servitude was itself just another illusion.

”A-are you..?”

WC: 1000; GP: 20; TGP; 20

Hanabi

I believe I can even yet remember when I saw the stars for the first time.

370 Posts

Reiatsu155 Defense20 Strength20 Speed55 Spirit60 ApplicationLink

The Birth of a Shooting Star Jul 10, 2015 22:10:42 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Jul 10, 2015 22:10:42 GMT -5

She dropped like a stone, letting the air embrace her in a way that life never had. Chilled spears of ice thrust through her body, hair lashing her face with vitriolic abandon. These were the last few minutes of her life, and all Hanabi could think about was that wide sky above her. The emptiness of the night, the way that soon, oh so soon, she too would be just a part of that dark expanse. Clean cold nothingness, a purity that in life she could never quite achieve.

Smiling, lips curved like razor blades, she wrapped her arms around herself to tighten the fall, plummeting faster and harder as her brain began to predict the impact. She hoped it wouldn't hurt. Some small part of her wished it would.

And yet, when the bone-jarring collision finally occurred, it was a split second too early. A harsh colliding thud as her bones rose up even as her flesh continued to fall, a disconnect forged by gravity. The pain that blossomed then and there was bruising, enough to thrust what little air remained from her lungs, and yet it was not the bright red flower she had been searching for. She felt nothing shatter, nothing rupture, nothing even properly bruise as vice-like arms wrapped around her and gently floated them to the ground together.

Eyes open towards the sky, she felt a moment of panicked blindness, wrapped in white static so loud that she couldn't even hear her own heartbeat. Staring unseeingly into that emptiness, she felt her eyes clench shut, the rapid pitter-patter of her racing heart the only sound other than the whipping wind that could pierce the fog of defeat.

That sound meant she was still alive. And those arms so tight around her, the body pressed up against hers, the dull thud of another's measured heartbeat, all that indicated she was not only alive but found out.

There was no reason to open her eyes. No reason to face a reality that would only seek to abuse her emotions. She wished merely to fade into the earth, to jump from those arms and drown herself in the nearest pond. Maybe if she ran to her room before this got reported she could grab her zanpakutou without anyone stopping her. Maybe if she begged Hanabi-shishou the sword wouldn't intervene with her end.

The grip around her eased, holding her aloft like a treasured parcel, delicate but strong as the heart so close to her ear began to beat in earnest. Following along with that rhythmic thrum she tried to lose herself in the pattern, tried to immerse herself in the savage drumbeat. Anything, anything at all not to have to wake from this moment and accept that she had been found out.

She felt the interloper shift, her cradled form nestled against soft padding as they gentled their hold on her. The voice, when it spoke, was so full of emotion that she almost didn't place it. A whisper-thread of wonder, glittering all askew with shock.

Eyes snapping open, staring up into the softened face of Tsukiyo Kionchi, she nearly threw herself out of his arms as her body went rigid. Soul King's Beard! She wasn't just not-dead, she had been saved by the very guard Kiriko had handed her off to so carelessly earlier that day! Fuck, this was so clearly the end that there was nothing but a rigid click as her brain shuddered to a halt, unable to process anything beyond the litany of the harshest swears she had ever heard before in her life but never dared to utter.

Tsukiyo Kionchi, Chinda Kiriko's blank-eyed little soldier! Locked so tight that her muscles felt as if they would pop, Hanabi blinked, and then blinked again as if that would change what she was looking at. The night sky shimmered, the darkness of the trees seeping around them, and yet it failed to converge and shift this vision of Hell into anything more divine.

She had honestly just tried to kill herself only to be caught by the man the monster had ordered to basically spy on her...

Did some god truly hate her that much? Maybe he would believe her if she said she'd fallen?

Heart lurching, Hanabi shot up, struggling as she wriggled enough to slip from his grasp. At the very least, she wouldn't let him tote her like a sack of potatoes to face Kiriko's wrath. Straightening, spreading her hands across the bathing yukata as if that would make her more presentable, Hanabi tried to turn her eyes to ruby stone, tried to banish the queer gleam of her nighttime flight. As she looked up, back into that oddly emotive face, she knew she had failed to press the emotions from her features entirely, unable to lock up the dark and grasping desire for escape.

“Tsukiyo-dono...” she whispered, voice trickling out like a broken and scratchy record, before Hanabi cleared her throat and tried again at full force. “A-h, thank you for saving me, Tsukiyo-dono.” Here she bowed, perfunctory and perfect, hoping that the formality would put more distance between the two of them. Tsukiyo was her captor's tool, she had seen him in all his robotic glory earlier that day even, and yet somehow this moment felt alive with the tingle of emotions. She couldn't slide away from that worried gaze, or those glimmer-bright eyes.

Who was she kidding though, this was Tsukiyo of the Fourth. She'd gotten her hands on his file after their meeting earlier only because Kiriko probably found some amusement in the horror of Hanabi's realization that her new guard and “protector” had been a convicted criminal and was very likely insane. Well, who wasn't insane when it came to Kiriko's underlings? Some days even Hanabi felt like she was slipping, being thrown off the cliff without any handholds to cling to. Some days she was even certain Kiriko wanted it that way, wanted the rest of the world to fracture as badly as she had herself. But that hadn't removed the deadly fear at the core of her being when she'd finished reading that highly classified report, that and the dull android-like man she had seen in their first meeting had left a strong imprint.

So why was the very same man looking at her now with such strong emotions? As if he wasn't aware that he was basically here to make sure she followed orders and didn't do anything stupid. Like, for example, jumping off the roof of the Academy of her own free will. Was it truly impossible to play that off as a mistake? A slip? It was cold out, maybe she had only lost her footing? ...with a rail in the way though? If she tried to come up with a really stupid excuse, maybe Kiriko would believe it simply because it would be in line with her horrible view of Hanabi's capabilities. But what was so stupid it would make that woman launch into lecture mode without actually realizing it was a lie?

WC: 1182 | GP: 23 | Total GP: 48

Kionchi

What's your mask?

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The Birth of a Shooting Star Jul 11, 2015 0:24:21 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Jul 11, 2015 0:24:21 GMT -5

Hanabi

His sandals hit the ground with the lightest tap. Layer upon layer of spirit cushioned his landing as he looked down at her face in continued shock. Not so much at the suicide itself. Or even that it'd be her he'd have the good fortune to catch. But rather that his body had moved the way it had without a second of hesitation. That he'd risk barging in on the life of another with neither glory nor honor on the line. It wasn't that he wasn't altruistic. It wasn't even that he wouldn't normally save someone looking for help. But rather that his pragmatism had still yet to kick in. That even now he had enough of his wits to notice his own thoughts and was shocked that he hadn't already compiled a hundred and one lists as to why what he did was or wasn't the right thing to do.

It wasn't a matter of right or wrong. It wasn't a matter of what was best for him or best for her or best even for the Gotei as a whole. This wasn't about Bushido or Shourido or any other silly code of honor or ethics or any such mess. It wasn't about Kiriko or even Tokiyo or Hi-To or Seryu or Shun. It wasn't about his need to prove something to himself. Or even Tsukuyomi. His soul had merely reacted the same way it would to a tragedy. Moved of its own accord before the mind could properly react. Those deep eyes and that fighting little body. That nervous expression and those lithe pale arms. What was it about her that made him so desperate to save her? What was it about that night that made him so desperate to understand?

Was it any surprise she'd squirm out of his arms like that? There's really almost no graceful way to let someone down, after all. Of course it was a position made all the more awkward given the positions the pair had been assigned. Should he just set her down and walk away? Call Kiriko and beg her to assign Hi-To or Rufio or anyone else better suited for the job? The idea caused his chest to ache, but he'd dismiss it as readily as the prospect of admitting such a failure.

She took a step back and gave a formal bow. The distance was like another needle in his heart. He didn't expect her to thank him. But there was something about the emptiness of her praise that left him so much more pained that had she merely walked away without saying a word. Like he had made her life all the more miserable and yet would make it ten times worse if he thought her ungrateful. An obligation. A thought very human given the source. Flawed and informal and the kind of thing Kionchi would never say or even think had he been in his right mind.

Of course had he been in his right mind Hanabi would be nothing but a splatter and a name.

He opened his lips and stuttered. He knew there was the right thing to say. Heck, perhaps the best thing he could do at that point was silently escort her to the Second? Or maybe just grab her wrist with one hand and his cellphone with the other? And yet the idea itself made him second guess whatever it was he wanted to say. His hand was still warm from the fall. The smell of her recent bath still lingering on his palette. Hot air met cold as a noiseless breath slipped between his teeth. The first time the pair met she was like a princess behind a veil. A goddess, even. Protected by that ideal of a woman he dared not even touch and yet he could still feel that weight of her falling into his arms.

”I'm sorry.”

The words surprised him. And yet they felt so sincere. He had been assigned to protect her. And yet he let her roam free without him all this time. He had just assumed the academy would keep her safe. That she would have everything she needed and he wouldn't be needed until her first trip to earth. And yet here she was suffering in ways he could never imagine...and as he gripped his kimono he realized he had left his kikanshinki off in the courtyard a good fifth of a mile away. The damned thing that meant to keep him stable. No. The thing that kept him from becoming like her. And yet for all the good its done him, the idea of letting her use it to escape whatever her problem seemed too sad an option to even consider. And while he wanted more than anything to accept her gratitude...so long as she was her own worst enemy he was afraid that he had only delayed the inevitable.

”I'm afraid I can't accept your gratitude, Hanabi-hime.”

He watched her adjust her yukata and sighed. He wanted to hear her thanks. He wanted to be the one who saved her. And maybe it just was a selfish desire. Maybe a longing to use her to prove to himself that it was possible to confront those anxieties. Maybe he was just wondering what would lead someone so close to perfection to such a drastic measure. Silently he removed the black outermost layer of his uniform. And taking a step forward he flapped the black garment clear over the her head and wrapped it firmly over her arms and around her waist. He kept his hands oh her shoulders and looked for signs of shock. Signs of anything he could use to help him understand.

”I haven't saved you yet,” He smiled and tilted his head, pulling back his hands from the timid creature before him. He had to save her. ”But when I do, you can thank me.”

And maybe if the stupid fox had understood what was troubling her he might have known not to have worded it in such a way as to make it so easy to misconstrue and assume he was merely trying to prove himself to the captain of the Second. Had he the ability to see Kiriko as more than this paragon and ideal maybe the prospect of having her watch over you would be as disturbing to him as it was to her. And yet there was something to be said for his tenacity. And perhaps it would overcome his overwhelming ignorance and insensitivity.

”So please help me understand what just happened."

WC: 1100; GP: 22; TGP: 42

Hanabi

I believe I can even yet remember when I saw the stars for the first time.

370 Posts

Reiatsu155 Defense20 Strength20 Speed55 Spirit60 ApplicationLink

The Birth of a Shooting Star Aug 21, 2015 19:59:35 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Aug 21, 2015 19:59:35 GMT -5

What just happened? What just happened? What just happened? Her mind rang with the question, steel echoing in her thoughts as she felt the ground beneath her feet shift and slide. Everything about this night was wrong. Like waking up to a sky colored green and grass made from glass. Her fingers curled around the sleeves of Kionchi's gi, grasping tightly as the heat of the uniform pressed against her. Arms wrapped around her body, a futile attempt to ward off the future, she let the fabric between her fingertips ground her. Rubbing the pad of her thumb in small circles, letting that smooth ply catch on her calluses. This was here, this was in her hands, and this was real. As much as her life felt like a dream, as much as she often worried none of it was even happening, that it was some nightmarish dreamscape and she herself in an unending coma, for all of that, this grounded her. The soft repetition of thread against her thumb and Tsukiyo's scent like lemongrass rising up from his jacket.

Moonlight a sliver shining down from behind a cloud, she shivered not from cold but from the very thought of illumination in all its form. Eyes cutting the ground between them, Hanabi forced her muscles to stillness, standing tall and stout as if she was the only soldier opposing an entire army. She wasn't a coward, she honestly wasn't... Kiriko could kill her, and it wasn't that that she was afraid of. Kiriko could hurt her all she wanted to, and it wasn't even pain that scared Hanabi. She was familiar with suffering, even before all of this she had been familiar.

It was the threat of losing herself once more, of being tossed into the unknown and tumbled straight through one reality into the next that terrified her. She couldn't stand to become another person. To lose Enyo Hanabi just as she had lost Chinda Kiriko. She couldn't stand to have her world torn up for a new one, all the rules changed, all the truths turned on their head. She was only just starting to make sense of things, to find her quiet place in this ruthless place, and she knew that the moment she stepped too far out of line it would all be gone. The real Kiriko held all the power here, and she was free to do anything she wanted to her. That woman was a Captain of immense power and connections, but beyond that she held the truth to Hanabi's soul. She and she alone knew who Hanabi was, and she and she alone could steal that away from the girl.

She could survive being punished. She was even ready to beg for the chance at death. But she couldn't live through this again. She couldn't become another person so soon. She couldn't lose what little power she held over her life, trading it in for another dark cell and an endless expanse of time alone. She wanted the chance to be Enyo Hanabi, now that the skin felt so natural, now that her mind was abuzz with this child's dreams. She wanted this life, and she was terrified that Kiriko would take it all away.

Flinching as Tsukiyo apologized, her shoulders hunching as if to protect from a physical blow that only she could see, Hanabi quietly straightened her spine and lifted her gaze. If she was going to be destroyed, she would look the monsters of her life in the eyes. She would stare into the abyss and make them all recognize what they were doing. She wouldn't go silently, she wouldn't let them rewrite her world just because. Not again. Never again.

So she let her eyes dart upward, flickering and shrouded with the certainty of pain as she looked into her jailer's own. Those eyes that had been so blank and unfeeling earlier today seemed to belong to another soul, for they peered as if through her very skin and into her heart. The tiny lines near his mouth and the crease in his forehead an indication of something she knew she should realize with her training. It was just so foreign to her understanding though, and it wasn't until he had spoken up again that Hanabi realized what she was watching was worry. Honest to goodness worry, and somehow she couldn't quite convince herself he was just worried about his job if she succeeded in killing herself.

There was a stab in her chest, the cavity filled with breaking force as the enormity of what she'd just done finally hit her. The finality of it all. She just wanted to go home! She just wanted to be with her family! For this all to be over, a bad dream. She didn't want to wake up to this world one more time, that was all. And yet, in wishing for release she had nearly resigned herself to eternal darkness. Was that really so much better? What would her Oneesama have said if she knew she was giving up? That she was so content to die instead of doing her best to find a way home to those who loved her? Was she really that depraved? That weak?

Tears clotted the edge of her eyes, droplets sparkling in the moonlight as she blinked furiously in an attempt to keep them in. To hide the raw ache of her soul, the sheer homesickness that coated her skin like a poison. She just wanted to go home! Wavering in an unseen wind, Hanabi's hands clenched tightly together, nails digging white furrows into her palms.

“What just happened? You want to know? Do you really?” her voice rose up, too hoarse to be a wail but too emotional to be contained, “I don't want to do this anymore! Can't you understand that? Can't any of you understand that? I never wanted to do any of this! I just want to see my family! I just want to be happy! I never wanted any of this!” The secrets of her heart broke free, emotions flailing their way through the crisp night air as she tore her heart open without regard for secrecy.

And then, as she was standing there in the cold gasping for breath, trying to contain the beating of her jack-rabbit heart, she continued mutinously. Her words slim and slender like a blade, “I hate her.”

WC: 1073 | GP: 21 | Total GP: 69

Kionchi

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The Birth of a Shooting Star Sept 2, 2015 0:29:01 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Sept 2, 2015 0:29:01 GMT -5

His arm shivered, as though licked by a silent breeze. The air was still. Chilly, but calm. She must have been twice as cold. Even with his jacket, he felt the shiver as she stepped away. His arms grew heavy as her shoulders slipped out from under his fingers. A tinge of remorse as she looked at him with those sad, carmine eyes. They looked right into his, the look of worry on his face giving away his true intentions. His stoic mask of duty long since abandoned, the situation calling for something outside his expertise. Given the complication of the situation, it wasn't surprising that he would have preferred to have fought off even an army of hollow. After all, where do you point your sword when your charge is ready to disembowel herself?

His hands shook at his side, but he wasn't sure when it was they finally fell. He tried to take her in. To take in everything she was. Was she armed? Did her arm just move a little? Did she just step back? His gaze meandering unsuccessfully; Barely moving an inch before they locked back into place with those ruby-red eyes. He couldn't even tell if she was getting closer or further away. Even as she breathed his eyes couldn't look down as far as her lips, her answer taking him off-guard, even though he was the one asking the question.

His heart clenched, as though squeezed by her own hands. His mouth opened, just slightly, as what little color flushed from his now pale cheeks. This was not the kind of thing he was suited for. Not the kind of thing he could stop. He had been long since taught the dangers of exposing your emotions. The lack of control a risk only rarely worth any real reward. As such he had such little experience with outbursts like this and yet...it felt so natural take a step forward and hold out his arm. Even as Tsukuyomi called out, warning her master of getting too close to Kiriko's precious toy – of some trap or test or something he could just barely make out in the back of his mind – he found himself completely unconcerned with his presentation.

He couldn't just abandon her. Leave her behind and return to the safety of his stoicism. This wasn't an act. Her feelings were real. Even now, he could feel his soul reaching out to hers as he kept his hand fully extended. She had given him a gift: Showing him something more honest, more real, than anything he had the courage to show anyone else. And even as she spewed her hatred, vivid enough that even he oblivious Kionchi could read between the lines, there was only response he could give the dewy eyed cardinal.

”I don't understand.”

Even as the truth left his lips, he questioned the authenticity of the seemingly callous words. Could she tell that it was a lie? Could he? He had long since forgotten why he became a shinigami. A pain, Tokiyo promised, he had long since felt was too much to bear. Family was as foreign and fleeting to him as happiness. Both a distraction he felt he didn't deserve, at least not until he could fix a world so heinous that it could know a girl as broken as this.

”And yet I'm more familiar with that pain than anyone.”

That hatred was real. That unrestrained and potentially treasonous animosity spewing from her lips cut Kionchi's heart as deep as any zanpakutou. It was the same hatred he felt for that hollow – the one he had hunted for so many decades. And yet, not directed at the source of so much evil and suffering, but rather the scion of perfection who embodied so much hope for a better Gotei. The purity of her strike not like that of a malice filled explosion, but rather the swift and purifying blade of vengeance Kionchi knew so intimately.

”If you want to run away,” Kionchi whispered, his eyes breaking her gaze just long enough to dart in either direction. ”Maybe we can answer some of our questions together?”

He kept his hand held out for hers, a very thin smile growing across his face. He wondered just how tight the captain's grip was on Seireitei. Just how perfect her hold. His initial reaction would have been to offer her his kikanshinki. To placate her pain with the same anesthetic he had relied on for so many forgotten years. And while it would have been a far safer option, Kionchi half expecting Kiriko or Kohara's sword to come straight through his heart then and there, he hoped whoever might be watching would understand what it was Kionchi was after. Would understand that sometimes even the most pragmatic among us had to fight passion with passion. Or maybe the thought of that shooting star being snuffed was just too painful for him to accept.

WC: 833; GP: 16; TGP: 58

Hanabi

I believe I can even yet remember when I saw the stars for the first time.

370 Posts

Reiatsu155 Defense20 Strength20 Speed55 Spirit60 ApplicationLink

The Birth of a Shooting Star Nov 27, 2015 19:06:46 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Nov 27, 2015 19:06:46 GMT -5

She watched him like a hawk, tiny fists curled tight at her sides as if the moment he came for her she would be able to do something about it. Hanabi liked to pretend that she had control in all of these situations, it was the only way to stay sane. And yet with her real feelings surging through her veins she felt the tears break free and trickle down her cheeks, traitors to the cause. The hands at her sides began to shake, her shoulders rolling and shuddering as the young student tried to suck in breath after breath so as not to cry aloud.

She just wanted this all to be over.

And in the end she had never had a day of control in her short life. It just hadn’t been so obvious, before.

As her vision blurred, lashes matted with tears, she saw Tsukiyo lift his arms towards her as he glanced around the darkened courtyard. She flinched back from his touch, chest heaving under the force of her attempts to keep the wails inside. It was all just too much. Too much. She’d reached her limit.

But then her captor turned those earnest eyes back towards her, his voice soft and probing as if even he didn’t know what he was saying. She wavered in the cold night air, his words sinking like metal through a haze as she tried to process them. Hanabi straightened once she was sure she had heard him right, dashing the tears from her cheeks with one angry fist as she leaned forward.

“You fool! I don’t want to run away! I’m not a coward. And besides, I… I want to be a Shinigami. I want to finish what I started. She can’t take this away from me too. I will become a Shinigami. And I will find Severance and make her help me.” She had reached for him unawares, grasping fingers digging into the air in front of him as if she was almost about to shake him. Instead those glassy eyes softened, glowing like coals around the curve of her lips. “I won’t run away, Tsukiyo-dono. You don’t have to worry about that. I’m… I’m Enyo Hanabi, and Enyo Hanabi doesn’t give up.”

She twisted away, amazed that the pain that jostled her heart at those words came paired with determination. She had forgotten that there was a way out of all of this. Maybe it was far off. Maybe it was impossible. But she didn’t have to let the monster win. She knew how to fold, how to bend and twist without breaking. This was just another storm, and Hanabi was uniquely skilled at weathering those things. Her fingers bunched up around the sleeves of Tsukiyo’s gi as she rubbed at her eyes once again, a bashful glance through thick eyelashes confirming that he was still staring at her.

“I, uhm, thank you though… For the offer.”

Maybe… Maybe Tsukiyo wasn’t Kiriko’s robot. Maybe she had been looking in all of the wrong places, expecting the world to be twisted and broken when everyone was just trying to resist like she was.

WC: 526 | GP: 10 | Total GP: 79

Kionchi

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The Birth of a Shooting Star Dec 11, 2015 23:41:24 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Dec 11, 2015 23:41:24 GMT -5

”Thank you.”

He wasn't sure how else to react. To be honest even the words seemed involuntary at the time. It was a new sensation to him. One second he pitied her and the next he found her admirable. Perhaps he was even jealous that she was able to refuse his offer of help. After all he had long since erased whatever awful things lead him to sell his soul to the Gotei. Family and friends and acquaintances alike; He wasn't so stupid as to imagine his life before his first erasure was nothing but a dream. Then again, the little girl had just flung herself off a building. And if that wasn't running away, then what was?

“You know when I first saw you falling I wasn't quite sure what you were,” He spoke calmly to the back of her head, giving her the space she needed no matter how desperate he was to reach out and touch her. ”I saw something falling in the corner of my eye. And maybe my body was just reacting before my head could catch up. But before I knew it I was already in the air and...”

He turned his hips and took a single step back. He felt the anxiety seething from his zanpaktou. Every fiber of his being was telling him to just shut up. To just leave her there and report this to Kiriko. He had every reason to follow his better judgment and drag the girl to his captain. But there was something about her words that made his chest heave in pain. Something that made him realize he was just running away from his own heart dumping the girl off with the monster who'd lead her to want to take her own life. And after a hundred years of loyalty so unyielding that he'd even incriminate himself for some politicians he'd never even met, Kionchi couldn't fathom what it was about her tears that made him stop dead in his tracks after only a single step.

“Pardon me, Hanabi-hime,” Kionchi stopped his own story, perhaps a little afraid of what might come next. “What I meant to say is that I'm relieved to hear you've changed your mind, because I know what its like to slip.”

Alarms went off in the back of his mind, Tsukuyomi practically shouting from deep within his soul. He didn't care what she had to say. He didn't care how much this violated his vows. This Hanabi Enyo had become the kind of mirror he'd been looking for. Not the obsidian darkness of his blade, sucking away the darkest of his memories. Nor the blinding light of the kikanshinki, wiping away the thoughts that lead him astray. Rather in her he saw himself, that stubborn and determined victim, as hopelessly flawed as he was unwilling to admit. And entirely and completely desperate for salvation.

“Before I saw you I just on the verge of erasing my own memories...”

He intentionally left out that he was going to offer her the same kind of escape, the idea seeming so pathetic given the determination and resolution she was able to summon up so quickly after taking that leap. Why he even told her he couldn't exactly say. Perhaps a small part of him hoped she'd understand, his conditioning the kind that'd always drawn criticism in the past. Or perhaps he was looking for that same angry scowl, that same resentment and rejection he'd seen in so many of his companions before upon learning that his memories meant so little to him. Maybe he wanted that strong-willed young lady to just walk away right then and there, unable to comprehend what kind of coward would take such measures to run away from their past.

He closed his eyes and looked away from the small girl once again, a writhing in the pit of his stomach making its up way up past his chest and right into his throat. What was he doing with her? Why was the idea of erasing this from his mind so difficult? All he had to do was drop her off and erase this too...

“...But now I'm afraid I'd have to give up way more than just my memories.”

WC: 710; GP: 14; TGP: 72

Hanabi

I believe I can even yet remember when I saw the stars for the first time.

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The Birth of a Shooting Star Dec 12, 2015 0:08:00 GMT -5 Kionchi likes this

Post by Hanabi on Dec 12, 2015 0:08:00 GMT -5

The shudders slowed, her shoulders growing still as Hanabi’s anger washed away the panicky fear from earlier. Once more her grief was tamped down tight, but the momentary release had softened something within her all the same. Hanabi knew what it meant to be the prey staring up at the predator, the rabbit looking at the foxes jaws descending, and yet Tsukiyo hadn’t scolded her for her fears. He hadn’t even struck her for speaking so forwardly to him, something that she had half been expected when she had yelled out earlier.

Tears would get her nowhere, but they had helped ease a bit of the burden that had been building up like pressure inside her gut. Crinkling the sleeves in her hands, she slowly smoothed them back out before glancing up at her captor and savior alike. Standing here on the hard ground, the cold air whipping at her legs and the warmth of his coat pressing in all around her, she really didn’t want to die. Maybe she had never wanted to die. Maybe it had only seemed as if death was her one true escape.

But running away was the coward’s way out. And she didn’t want to be a coward, if she could help it. This girl who had had everything taken from her, at the very least she had this. She could chose who she was when it came down to the line. She could chose to be afraid of everything, or to take a stand and try to push back against the monsters in her life.

If that was all she had, it wasn’t nothing. It might just save her life.

Tsukiyo stepped back and her eyes darted to his, scared all of the sudden by the distant look in his gaze. She reached up hesitantly, wanting to take a step forward, but then his words stopped her and Hanabi shook her head quizzically. “Your memories… But… Why would you want to do that, Tsukiyo-dono?” If… if your memories were gone, could you ever get them back? Maybe he meant he was storing them somewhere? That would be a neat trick for getting out of trouble, even if Kiriko was a mind-reader she could never know what you yourself didn’t remember. Was that why he was so different now then he had been the first time they met?

But the swollen ache around his eyes belied that idea and Hanabi felt her own heartbeat pang softly at the sight of his pain. Here she was all wrapped up in her own suffering and she had never considered what it would be like to be one of Kiriko’s unnamed blades. How much choice did he even have in this life? If she was forced to commit true atrocities under Kiriko’s command, wouldn’t she want to wipe her mind clean as well? Or would she be strong enough to bear it all, knowing what she had done just to save her own skin? Maybe by that time she would even be strong enough to say no. To square her shoulders and welcome the sort of death that made you a hero.

Tsukiyo had paused as if to collect his thoughts, but the tail end of his comments struck her out of the blue and Hanabi blushed red-hot at the unsubtle implications. Hinata-shishou fluttered like a butterfly out of the darkness, coy lips pressed against her ear as the geisha let out a laugh like silver bells and murmured some “tips” in Hanabi’s inner ear.

Struggling to understand the shift in the situation, Hanabi came down to the practicals first like always, “But why, Tsukiyo-dono? I… I won’t pretend I don’t know why you’re here. I heard what she said to you. You have your orders just like I have mine, so I know what’s at risk if you disobey them. So why wouldn’t you want to erase your memories of this meeting! Then you could be safe from her.” Safety seemed worth any midnight meeting, any fleeting connection.

She tugged at a strand of still wet hair, pulling the end tight as her thoughts swirled. “Is erasing your memories so bad then? That you would want to avoid it now?”

WC: 704 | GP: 14 | Total GP: 93

Last Edit: Dec 12, 2015 0:19:50 GMT -5 by Hanabi

Kionchi

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The Birth of a Shooting Star Dec 20, 2015 21:29:57 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Dec 20, 2015 21:29:57 GMT -5

A breath of stale air left his lungs as he took in more of the chilly night. He'd gotten use the miasma of the Nest, but he'd never felt this way about the surface before. The shield around Seireitei had always been the kind of protection he'd taken for granted. And yet the longer he talked to Hanabi, the more and more he began to feel all the more like it was strangling the life out of him. Maybe he was so used to the choking winds that his body was just used to the confines of that ever tightening metaphorical collar around his neck.

Every cell in his body told him she was in the right. Maybe it was just the concern he felt for her as a victim? But could someone as perfect as Kiriko really make such a fatal error in judgment and victimize such a promising student? A growling noise came from Tsukuyomi as Kionchi began to question his own judgment, but he couldn't rectify the fact that he had to have been wrong about one of them. One a goddess who'd saved Seireitei from the threat of his own experiment. The other an angel whose wings had been plucked and torn so ruthlessly that she could only fall. It wasn't like Kionchi to even consider taking her side, and yet here he was second guessing someone he'd sworn to follow even if it meant losing everything.

He'd never considered losing something this precious.

”Safe?” Kionchi tilted his head at the woman's choice of words. It was quite something for him to second guess erasing his own memories, ”Munin once calculated, given the number of kikanshinki I run through every week, that I probably erase upwards of sixteen percent of my memories every day. That's not including the times I've simply let entire weeks just fade away into that warmth...” He'd never been so open about his habit before. He never really hid it before, but he'd never bothered going past the most rudimentary explanation. ”The only thing I have to fear is my own imperfection. The idea that sometime in the future I'll face some overwhelming obstacle and fail, not because it was too much for me, but because something held me back...”

He stopped and froze, overwhelmed by his own hypocrisy. Here he was considering betraying his own captain, the savior who'd freed him from bondage, and yet he found himself unwilling to free himself from this irrationality. And yet the more he thought about it, the more he found that irrational beating in his chest all the more appealing. Even with Tsukuyomi holding in profanities from deep inside his soul neither sword nor wielder could pinpoint which of Kionchi's vows he was breaking giving into his instincts. Of course, the zanpaktou knew firsthand that he'd yet actually crossed any kind of line. All these distracting ideas were, after all, easily dealt with after the fact.

”Tch,” a smile crossed his lips as he heard the girl's explanation. It would wrap things up nicely if he were acting on Kiriko's orders, wouldn't it? Rationalize and simplify and tidy up all this mess. But as long as he could erase his memories, why not explore the idea a little further and see where it went? ”I've never hesitated before. But I guess I wouldn't remember if I had. And no matter how much I wish I could say I was following you on her orders...”

Turning once again he pointed with his thumb back toward the courtyard he came from.

”If you don't believe me you can go check it out yourself. I doubt the kikanshinki I dropped has been picked up already, and it still has a full charge. I may lie to myself now and again, but I'd never lie and say I was following orders when I just got lucky. And no matter how crazy it sounds, something deep inside me is telling me that I need more time to process this. And what's unsafe about that? I can keep a secret if you can, right? How would she ever find out?”

She seemed just as on the fence about the whole idea as he was, unable to choose between what feels right and what makes the most sense. It was a line he'd avoided walking for decades, his zanpaktou and his kikanshinki his first line of defense against such a pointless battle. And maybe it was just to remind himself to pay closer attention to her for the sake of his mission, but he couldn't help but shake the feeling that he had to remember this. That he'd lose far more than this meeting if he took the cowards way out and ran.

”You might say, I don't want to run either."

WC: 800; GP 16; TGP: 88

Hanabi

I believe I can even yet remember when I saw the stars for the first time.

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The Birth of a Shooting Star Dec 28, 2015 18:05:39 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Dec 28, 2015 18:05:39 GMT -5

She didn't really understand him, but something inside of her ached as he spoke so naturally of erasing so much of his life. Like it was something you could throw away and never need again. How many people had he forgotten? How many smiles? How many kind words? Maybe she was thinking of this all backwards, maybe Tsukiyo only removed the negative experiences. But even those were important, a reminder of why you were fighting and of what you were risking. Life was a tightrope like that, you couldn't have the truly good without the truly bad. Perhaps she had always been naïve, Kiriko seemed to think so, but something about the idea of deleting memories seemed far more tragic than death itself. It was erasing a life, and even if you lost your life you couldn't be removed from the picture itself. But if you got rid of those memories... How much was Tsukiyo missing? And how could he find happiness if he had chunks of himself that were gone never to come back?

Twisting her fingers in anxious knots, Hanabi opened her mouth with a swirl of impassioned words on the tip of her tongue. She closed her lips before anything could escape, jaw snapping shut as she listened to the rest of his story. It was sad, true, but maybe it was also sort of brave. What had he gone through that this seemed his only escape? And couldn't she understand that when the pressure built you might take any chance of relief, even if it meant losing parts of yourself? It would be hypocritical to say otherwise, considering what she had just tried to do.

“How... How can you become perfect though, if you don't confront the bad parts of yourself, Tsukiyo-dono?” the words slipped out, an eager entreaty, though in retrospect the student realized how rude they were and she ducked her head apologetically. It just didn't make sense to her, that you could strive to become better without actually resolving the things that had made you slip in the past. Wasn't that just covering up your problems? They could only resurface again, only this time you wouldn't have fair warning.

She was starting to think that it was Tsukiyo who needed to be protected, not herself. His heart seemed so fragile, to suffer such a great strain and shatter so deliberately like this. Someone needed to try to put those pieces back together, and Kiriko would never allow him the peace to find himself. If they were to be stuck together, maybe... maybe she could help him. Just a little bit. She might be weak and impossible, but this was something Hanabi could do. Something that couldn't easily be taken from the two of them. If he refused to erase this memory, and she kept his secrets... maybe together they could heal the broken parts of themselves.

“I... thank you, Tsukiyo-dono. I know how hard it is to... to come to that conclusion. Maybe since we both reached it, we can help each other keep it,” she looked up then, her eyes clear and sincere, the burning desire to reach out and help him just as tangible as her own need to stay strong and not run away.

Who knew, together they might just protect one another from Kiriko.

WC: 555 | GP: 11 | Total GP: 104[/b]

Last Edit: Dec 28, 2015 18:06:13 GMT -5 by Hanabi

Kionchi

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The Birth of a Shooting Star Jan 24, 2016 15:36:45 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Jan 24, 2016 15:36:45 GMT -5

Perfect

He'd never really questioned the idea of what it meant to be perfect before. Or maybe he just erased all those times he doubted the crystal clear image of perfection he had burned into his mind's eye. A laughable joke of an image made obsolete in just an evening with the young student, her passionate plea melting away the gilded veneer of Kiriko's facade. The angel turned demon in just a few lines, the crying girl before him more powerful than the Captain Commander's dark aura. Even if Kionchi thought he could build a world in which no one would unduly suffer, how would he know if so many memories were sacrificed along the way? This girl was driven by her past to do something desperate to escape what she thought was a hopeless future. And yet her conviction was powerful enough to shatter Kionchi's worldview so quickly. Powerful enough to destroy his very idea of perfection.

”Hanabi-hime...” He looked away from her for a moment, ashamed for the first time of his twisted sacrifice. Here he stood before a soul as tarnished and worn as any other, and yet capable of confronting the same fears he'd spent his entire life running from. She had every right to reject him, to loathe him, to slap him right then and there and run away. And yet she'd rather reach out and help him. The idea alone caused a warmth in his heart he hadn't felt in decades.

”I wish I had your strength,” He turned to her, his eyes avoiding hers. ”I wish I could swear off using the Kikanshinki forever. And while I've had some success sealing the memories instead of outright erasing them...its a dangerous procedure and not very reliable. Perhaps if times were better, perhaps if we weren't living in the shadow of our demons, I could face the darkness alone without having to rely on my crutch...”

Looking upward toward the golden shield he reached out just enough to feel the Commander's spiritual signature. Perhaps he was hoping this time around he'd feel something different. Perhaps he wished that the entire idea was nothing more than a dream. But as that same shiver ran up his spine, he knew it was silly to think that way. He knew it wouldn't be that easy.

WC: 380; GP: 7; TGP: 95

Last Edit: Mar 29, 2016 17:03:14 GMT -5 by Kionchi

Hanabi

I believe I can even yet remember when I saw the stars for the first time.

370 Posts

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The Birth of a Shooting Star Feb 5, 2016 0:23:26 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Feb 5, 2016 0:23:26 GMT -5

She watched him, chewing on her bottom lip as he turned away from her. At first she assumed it was something she said, that she had spoken too brashly and that he was offended. But as he turned back to her, his eyes downturned and his face taunt, she realized that it was something deeper and far more human. It seemed like a far away memory now, her thoughts earlier that day that this person before her was only a robot or a tool to Kiriko. Hidden beneath that facade was a turmoil and humanity she had forgotten existed in her own anguish.

Hanabi stepped forward, tentatively at first but her second footfall came down strong. With a delicate touch she wrapped her hands around his own, pulling their entwined hands between them as the world's pulse began to slow. “It is not strength, Tsukiyo-dono.” She had whispered this, long lashes like smudges of soot as she glanced back towards the roof admitting to what she had done mere minutes before. “It is not strength, but a question of what else can be done. Sometimes we are forced by our own limitations, I think, to do the hard thing. I don't want to be at the bottom anymore, and so the only thing for it is to start climbing. Even if it hurts, even if it is painful, it has to be better than living like this.” She squeezed his hands, ducking her chin so that her soulful gaze had caught his own subverted eyes.

The silence that spread between them was clean and placid as she let the night's solemn touch pervade their circle of awareness. Nearly a minute passed in thought before Hanabi broke the charmed peace with her musings. “The Kikanshiki removes the memory entirely, correct? I... I am not an expert in bakudou, but I have pondered this question before. I did some research, a while back, and I believe that I could craft a functioning spell for you. If that would help, Tsukiyo-dono.” She gave him a painfully eager smile, “One that isolates the memory in question and returns it upon a vocal or physical trigger that would be implanted at the time of the spell's placement. I've already begun work on a similar spell, actually, uhm, as a project I am doing for Kiriko. It would not be difficult to shift the focus of the spell to memory, because I believe Jun has theorized about the four circles of containment when it comes to the mind which could easily map onto my previous work...” She trailed off, her eyes alight with the theoretical quandary that he had just handed her. Already she felt her fingers twitching, wishing for a pad of paper to draw some of her ideas down.

WC: 465 | GP: 9 | Total GP: 9

Kionchi

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The Birth of a Shooting Star Feb 18, 2016 16:14:59 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Feb 18, 2016 16:14:59 GMT -5

He didn't notice the first step, and by the second, it was too late. His hands flinched when she grabbed hold, his eyes opening wide as felt the chill of his pale fingers melting away in the warmth of her gentle embrace. He hated being the kind of person who jumped at such a kind gesture. He hated being the kind of coward whose initial reaction was laced with such bitter cynicism and doubt. And yet he found himself turning to face her, eyes slowly creeping from shoulder to shoulder, from forehead to neck. Unable to look straight into the windows of her soul, afraid perhaps of catching his own reflection in the eyes of his wizened young pupil. Afraid of seeing himself teetering on the same ledge upon which she'd been standing for years, too stupid to even notice how close he was to plunging into darkness.

He refused to break the silence, his gaze still wandering across her features as he slowly counted the number of seconds between each breath. He could feel the pulse in her hand, his own heart slowing down as his body gradually matched her rhythm. As far as physiological phenomena went it was a common enough occurrence that most people didn't even take notice. But even that comforting thought was only able to distract him for a second, his knees shaking under his hakama as his haphephobia came back in full swing.

Even now he could feel her hands getting colder. He could sense those tiny sparks of reishi intermingling with his own. His stomach churned as she gave him a tentative smile, that naive innocence as her purity was slowly twisted and marred by his presence. His eyes shot to the sky, then back to ground. His throat tightened as he tried to think of anything else, to distract himself from remembering where he was and who he was with. The wall? Her hair? Her ey-

Those eyes.

His shoulders dropped, muscles relaxing. A breath of stale air escaped his lungs, the hair on his arms standing down as he smiled. He wasn't sure why, not that it mattered. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, his mind lost to those wonderful black eyes. She stared right into his eyes, and hers into his. And in that moment he learned to forget himself, his nervousness and anxiety lost to those obsidian jewels, their soulful watch putting him more at ease than a hundred uses of his kikanshinki. There was a moment of hesitation, as though he was trying to say something but had forgotten how to speak.

Fortunately, she was able to pick up the slack.

He followed along as he watched a new energy emerge in her. That familiar spark of the muse eternal lighting up the darkest corners of her soul, her mind clearly lost in a field Kionchi had no idea she was so passionate about. The same field of study upon which he built his entire career. And even among his peers at the fourth, he had never before found another soul like hers so interested in researching the relationship between memory and soul: An impassioned ally in his pursuit of knowledge and truth.

”I may have just started climbing, but if you'd care to join me on this ladder of ours,” his cheeks reddened at his uncharacteristic boldness, a line coming to mind that he'd always wanted to say at least once. ”I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

WC: 585; GP: 11; TGP: 106

Last Edit: Mar 29, 2016 17:03:02 GMT -5 by Kionchi

Hanabi

I believe I can even yet remember when I saw the stars for the first time.

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The Birth of a Shooting Star May 21, 2016 22:29:04 GMT -5 Kionchi likes this

Post by Hanabi on May 21, 2016 22:29:04 GMT -5

Torn from her theorizing, Hanabi felt it the moment Tsukiyo-dono actually looked at her. His fingers, which had been limp in her grasp, suddenly tightened, a quiet pressure letting her know she had gotten through to him. Pausing to savor that moment, the cold refreshment of the wind at their backs, and the warmth of his body so close to hers, Hanabi smiled. This was unlike her earlier expressions, in that it was true and whole, a meltingly earnest smile.

A tendril of tenderness lit in her chest, a flicker of new flame. Kiriko would never approve, but if Hanabi could save even one soul from the monster's grasp, then maybe all of this would be worthwhile. This life, this journey, the pain. If she couldn't do it solely for herself, someone like Kionchi was an easy motivator. He had no one else in this crusade, and maybe all they could do was start climbing, but it had to be enough.

It was enough to remind her of the sun that would rise tomorrow, burning off the mists of darkness and heralding a new day. Ducking her head, a quirk to her lips as the older Shinigami pulled out a rather corny line, Hanabi giggled. Shocked by the laugh, by the fact that anything could be found funny anymore, she froze and looked up at him like a startled rabbit. But the light in his eyes, the hope there, suddenly she found herself throwing her head back and laughing for real. Clutching at his arms as the giggles rolled away from her.

When she had finally stopped, a clean sense of exhaustion filling her up, Hanabi glanced through her bangs at Kionchi. “I think... I think that settles it. We're friends, Kionchi-dono.” Shy elation coated the words, inhibition pushing her further as she gripped his arms and suddenly slid forward to wrap her arms around him. She hadn't noticed the flinch earlier, and tried to hold back her own at the feel of a muscled body pressed so close, but with her cheek turned against his chin, she whispered, “We will just take it one step at a time. One day at a time. And one day... One day we'll be free.”

WC: 372 | GP: 7 | Total GP: 16

Bleach Gotei

The Birth of a Shooting Star

Post by Hanabi on Jun 5, 2015 22:47:34 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Jun 21, 2015 21:25:54 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Jul 10, 2015 22:10:42 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Jul 11, 2015 0:24:21 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Aug 21, 2015 19:59:35 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Sept 2, 2015 0:29:01 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Nov 27, 2015 19:06:46 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Dec 11, 2015 23:41:24 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Dec 12, 2015 0:08:00 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Dec 20, 2015 21:29:57 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Dec 28, 2015 18:05:39 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Jan 24, 2016 15:36:45 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on Feb 5, 2016 0:23:26 GMT -5

Post by Kionchi on Feb 18, 2016 16:14:59 GMT -5

Post by Hanabi on May 21, 2016 22:29:04 GMT -5

Welcome!