Are There Strings on Us? [closed/Puuchan]

Munin didn’t take joy in the cat’s suffering. Perhaps it could have laughed, mocked it as it tried so desperately to gain simple sustenance. Even so, was it cruel to leave it like this? Was it cruel to watch it scrabble for its survival against all odds, desperately trying to enforce its will upon the world? Shinobu might think it so, Jian would likely think it so, to say nothing of the others. Even the Quincy and Shinigami would proclaim this to be some cruel punishment, and if not that at least consider it foolishness. But as Munin watched the creature’s muscles tense for yet another blow, it simply saw another observational subject to keep in complete focus.

As such: the word “hey” was more than enough to send Munin into a whirlwind of confusion. The barrier wavered for a moment as eyes whirled around, trying to identify the source of the voice. Vision captured the second Hollow, (still busy with its meal), the buildings that lay scattered around, and a floating doll that seemed to be looking at Munin.

A pause seemed to hang in the air for a moment as the robot met the ‘gaze’ of the puppet, but only for a moment before the cat’s roar brought Munin’s attention back to the creature. You need to be dealt with. The words of the doll were lost, registered in some respect as Munin changed its priorities. There wasn’t time to investigate a Hollow while this new curiosity was present. The barrier fragmented at Munin’s thought, and the cat immediately took its opportunity to lunge. Speed differential. The robot’s form would blur in the feline’s vision, the sound of a flash step sending Munin to its side. It clawed at the air, and Munin couldn’t help but feel that it was being a bit pathetic. It had been blinded by its desire for food, frustrated by Munin’s barrier, and now the android would bring it all to a close.

A hand rose: and a crimson bolt was spat forth, impacting on the back of the creature’s head. Two more swiftly followed, and the cat was crushed against the ground.

A few steps brought Munin forward, and its hand hovered above the Hollow’s mask. The cat looked up in defiance, and Munin registered the blood that ran down its broken neck. It must have felt terrible for the creature: to feel its lifeblood dripping down its own form. An anger at its own helplessness, and perhaps an understanding that Munin was the ruler of its life. So this is what Shinobu feared.

The mask splintered into pieces, and the Hollow fell to death.

Munin turned to the doll, its energy lowering down as its eyes fixed upon the doll. It was an oddity: that was true. It was small, but that didn’t make it any less unusual. “If I am an oddity, you are another.” It seemed like a Shinigami, at least somewhat. It was a compressed form, one that had taken on a form unlike anything that Munin had ever seen before. “Do you see me?” Munin said, tilting its head sideways. “Those eyes don’t seem to be receptors. But you look as if you are.” The android’s curiosity brought it to walk closer, recognizing the scent of alcohol that had seeped throughout the creature. “What are you?”

“What do you mean by leash law?”

Munin was puzzled as it looked upon the doll. It kept saying odd things, mentioning the peculiar rule of a leash law. Did that even apply to Hollows? Did the doll really think that the Hollow was Munin’s pet? “What does that have to do with me?” The android’s eyes focused in on the fabric eyes that faced it. Were they even eyes? It could see, at least in some fashion. It could even speak, a miraculous feat considering it didn’t have anything resembling vocal cords. Perhaps it was something to do with how it had been infused with energy? Or perhaps it was a spiritual projection (though it appeared physical to Munin’s sensors).

The doll claimed to be a hand puppet, but scans revealed no strings or hand manipulating it. It was altogether something more than just a mere doll. What exactly Munin didn’t know yet, but it was unique. It resembled a Shinigami in its Reiatsu; perhaps that was the link? Perhaps it was just infused with power from a Shinigami? Or was that a bit too ridiculous? Munin was similar, in theory, but was it similar? Could cloth even be imbued with spiritual energy? It was a stretch of Munin’s knowledge, but it still was grounded in some knowledge.

“I’m not quite a Gigai.” An answer to the puppet’s question brought Munin out of its musing. “How did you come into being?” The android moved closer to the puppet, moving down to study the signature in more detail. “You’re a challenge. I’ve never seen something quite like you. You seem to be imbued with a Shinigami’s energy.” Why does it look like a soul? The thought bubbled to the surface, bursting into a noxious idea. “You provide your own energy. Your own wellspring.” A frown appeared and Munin spoke quietly. “Are you a soul then?”

The Hollow was preparing to leap, but Munin ignored it. It paled in importance to what was before it.

Red: the colour of the ribbon that adorned the puppet’s soul. It was a soul: a wellspring of power that could not be denied. Reiatsu flowed from deep within, paradoxically fueling and being fueled by the creature. It was a turmoil, a whirlpool. It tossed and turned within the creature’s frame, and yet it radiated what could be called ‘comfort’ and ‘happiness’. The flow washed over Munin, pricking at its body and soul, almost like the touch of a happy child as it tickled another.

Red: the colour of the Hollow’s paw. It was also a soul, but one far less interesting. Why did it insist on looking upon Munin with a predator’s gaze? Fire filled its chest, the furnace fueled by its recent meal. It had devoured tissue and soul to keep itself alive, and yet the hole within would never be filled. Was it that hunger that brought it to foolishness? Or was it revenge?

It mattered little. The android’s eyes didn’t move from their appointed task. “You claim to be no more than a hand puppet. Yet…”

The sound of stone shattering drowned out the words, and Munin’s mouth shut tight in response. Eyes opened wide. The neck rotated, only to be met with a shove the other direction. Claws bit into the abdomen, forcing it to turn and drift lower. Legs failed to hold their place, and eyesight caught the mimed tip of a hat as the puppet moved to leave. All of this was unacceptable.

Munin fell, gravity taking hold as its body turned to face the Hollow’s. Eyes fixed on eyes, and Munin couldn’t help but notice the creature rushing forward with jaw agape. A predator to be respected Munin thought, even as its body prepared to fall against the ground. But first: to deal with the creature’s bite. A single bite from it would leave Munin heavily damaged, especially if it landed on the midsection. Therefore: it was only right that a barrier appeared around the android’s chest, teeth meeting wall.

Surprise was what the creature felt for a moment. It had expected the delicious taste of blood and soul; now all it tasted was rejection. Munin’s head bounced as inertia forced it down, muscles holding it tight before its chest tensed. The upper body rushed upwards, hands outstretched as if to hug. Shock had frozen the Hollow, and the touch of flesh upon its face only left it more confused. A smiling, happy figure was draped upon its face, its lips slowly moving as it spelled out words for the stupid beast. “You shouldn’t interrupt” it said, breath teasing on the creature’s unkempt fur. “You’ll get killed.”

The judgment came without malevolence. It wasn’t one meant to cause pain, just one intended to let the creature move on. An electric current surged through the beast, just like a farmer killing a bull. Merciful, and quick. Its brain would be overloaded, killing the nerves and ending its feeling. Muscles spasmed, dropping Munin to the ground and forcing it to flail in every direction, if only for a moment.

The android rose from where it had been discarded, and took a moment to brush itself off. “Why can’t they figure out that some things shouldn’t be prey?” it wondered aloud. Eyes looked around, trying to spot the hand puppet. “I’d like to speak with you a bit more!”

Scanning procedures were simple. First, one simply rotated in place, keeping the head at the same vertical position as it spun in a circle. This captured a panoramic view of the area, with enough precision to point out a fine level of detail. After failing to find the target, a Reiatsu scan would be performed. The degree of error was higher, but it could track over a wider area, and would catch at least a glimpse of most beings. As per usual, the scan did pick up a small sign of the puppet, which sent Munin off to a new routine.

So it continued until the puppet appeared in visual range. After spotting it, a smile was deployed, with a potential greeting following until the puppet disrupted the routine again. This time: rather than simply retreating back to wherever it had gone before, it began a Konso. The behaviour provoked an immediate change in Munin’s facial features. The smile was gone, and in its place were tightened lips curved in a shallow arc, with narrowed eyebrows pulled toward the bridge of Munin’s nose. The puppet’s newfound capability confirmed it as a sort of Shinigami-like existence: perhaps linked to a Zanpakuto in some way. Speculation offered a few solutions: it could be a manifestation of a Shinigami’s Shikai (though the owner was peculiarly absent), it could be a Zanpakuto Spirit (Munin had read some books referencing the possibility), or it could be something else entirely.

From how it spoke, it seemed like the latter two options were more likely. Munin continued watching it, taking a special interest in the aura that now surrounded. It understood the concept of purification, though it didn’t call it by the proper name. Furthermore, the aura was an oddity that Munin hadn’t encountered before. Perhaps the puppet functioned somewhat parasitically? It could drain energy from the… no. The idea didn’t make sense. The puppet already was a soul: and existed within the Seiretei so it didn’t need to drain energy at all. So then: why the aura?

It asked what Munin wanted, drawing attention away from the aura. “I want to know what exactly you are. You may concieve of yourself as a hand puppet, but you’re far more than any hand puppet I’ve ever witnessed before.” The robot stared at the puppet’s eyes, humming slightly. “You’re not something I understand, so I just want to know more about you.” The question was: did it want to be known? Or would it insist on frustrating Munin's advance?

Frustration it was, then. The puppet refused to answer Munin’s questions, instead just falling to the ground like a deflated balloon. Its signature refused to die, but it was quieted in a similar fashion. Confused, the android looked around, glancing from point to point. It spun in place, looking for any sign of Hollow. There had to be another one, why else would the puppet hide itself? That had to be the reason: it had fallen because it didn’t want to fight, or perhaps it just wasn’t that good at fighting. Therefore there had to be some opposition.

Yet, there was nothing. No Hollow bounded into sight, no explosion engulfed another house. Even so: the puppet could have more sensitive senses, and thus sensed it from further away! Munin waited more, staring off into the distance, stretching the limits of its range. Their had to be something, some reason for this… some.

“Hey, play along.” interrupted. Munin’s eyes returned to the doll. Play along with what exactly? “Thank you Mister Shinigami”. A phrase stammered out from weakened lips, and Munin’s eyes finally turned towards him. It was a male Plus, no more than thirty years of age. He was covered in dust, likely from the destruction that had recently been taking place. Even without that, he wasn’t a pleasant sight. His right arm was gingerly held, perhaps because of a wound that had never healed properly. Clad in a distinguished manner, the clothes he had arrived with lost to time in all likelihood, he could’ve been quite the dashing young man.

Except he was here, stranded in the outskirts of the Rukonagi, contributing no value to the world at large beyond serving as just another number.

Munin hadn’t been ignoring the Pluses as they had approached from there houses. They’d all been counted, accommodated, listed into the ever growing folder of insignificants who didn’t seem to be provide much to the world. Even so, to them their lives were precious.

“Mister Shinigami?” he said, questioningly. Munin blinked, then finally focused in on the face. Blue eyes stared at him, no doubt puzzled at the one who had simply not spoken for about five seconds. The tear stain was dried, his face instead filled with concern. Perhaps he worried that the seeming saviour had simply been left catatonic in the wake of its victory, statue-like as it failed to even consider him. Or perhaps he was feeling despair, that niggling feeling that he was now confronted with: his own insignificance in this world.

Whatever the case, it might be a better route to let him stave off despair a little longer. Munin’s hand wrapped around the other’s, shaking it gently. “You’re welcome.” Munin said, letting a small smile warm its face. It wasn’t a lie. Not a proclamation either. It was just something that you were supposed to say after receiving thanks. Just say “you’re welcome”, smile a bit, and then continue on to whatever else you were going to say. “Pardon me though.” Munin said, as it stepped back, waiting for the nameless Plus to move. The Plus did, but before Munin could move to grab the fallen puppet, another had moved to offer their thanks, and it seemed almost as if they had formed a crowd around the android.

What was this nonsense? Why did they do this?
All that Munin wanted was just to talk to the doll, not deal with the trivialities of speaking with Plus after Plus. But yet it did, putting on a polite face as they moved one by one in a seemingly endless line, any opportunity for Munin to slip away overwhelmed by the requirement to be a polite individual to each of these beings. After all, that was what had to be.

“Have some!”

It was that idea that held its prison in place, was it not? The idea that Munin was obligated to “have some”, whether that be a greeting, a handshake, a hug, or any manner of contact from all members of this crowd. Even the fish was met with a smile and a small ‘thanks’ as the child smiled before being waved away by another of the older Pluses. The food was held in Munin’s right hand, the burnt skin sure to leave some kind of blackened mark due to the friction. Munin couldn’t eat the fish, of course. It had only taken it to be polite.

To be polite: to be walked over. To do what was one was obligated to do regardless of the fact that it inconvenienced oneself. That was Munin’s role in this: to listen and provide them with some kind of sympathy. To make it seem like Munin had saved them because that had mattered to it, not because it was simply something that had been required. Just as it was required to say “it was no trouble” for the third time, this time to a black-haired man just out of his twenties. He was a little stronger than the others spiritually, just barely enough to be considered for the Shinigami, but… still too weak to make much of a difference.

And yet, Munin couldn’t help but watch him out of the corner of its eye. He had walked over to the small urchin before, and was smiling. Almost a father’s smile, but more like an older brother. Related, if not by blood than by their bond. Both were happy, and the young one said something like “he took it!” with the widest smile on his face. What was this day to them? Munin wondered as it hugged an older man. For Munin, it was just another event along its path, but for them… it might be so much more.

Then the explosion happened: and the day became so much more for all of them.

Light filled the world, an explosion of Reiatsu that could only be represented as a brilliant star. The people looked and stared, speaking amongst themselves of fear. “It came from the centre!” one said, and the crowd was filled with worry. For them, the centre was the great stronghold, the glistening tower that shouldn’t be broken. And yet… for the second time in living memory it had been breached.

Doubt clung to their hearts, and their spirits shrunk and guttered.
But Munin’s heart beat strong, and it moved with emboldened motion.

Its hand swept low, seizing the doll from its place on the ground. Power gathered beneath its feet, and it sprang into the sky. Reiatsu spilled from it in waves, a brilliant light for the people to witness.

Perhaps it would be hope?

At least, that was what Munin thought as it descended towards the ground. After all, one couldn’t stand on the air in the Seiretei. Glistening shields surrounded the android as gravity pulled it down, and Munin was pressed to smile. “It was about time I left them.”

Gravel slammed against Reishi, Munin’s soul striving against the world as gravity exacted its toll. The body spun into a roll, blunting the impact and sending Munin flying horizontally. The world circled around Munin: spinning and spinning until it finally stopped. The shields held for a moment, and the android seemed to breath out as it released them. “Not an optimal landing.” it said, gently pulling itself up off the ground with puppet still in hand.

They seemed to be at least a small distance away, far enough that the crowd wouldn’t be able to track them easily. It would be best if they didn’t. Munin thought, its head turning back towards them. It didn’t seem that they were either. “They’re not following. Seems that they’re frightened of what just happened.” The android released the puppet, setting it down on the ground as Munin sat beside it.

“Can you feel what happened there?” Munin asked. The question seemed odd, but the puppet was anything but normal. “The powerful signature has changed.” It was a cryptic question, but Munin didn’t want to give too much away to the doll. “That flash… it was similar to what happened to Kiriko a little while ago, isn’t it?” It was the same event. A soul had just transcended, and Munin hadn’t even been there to watch this time. All it had was barely-crafted recordings, not enough to really discover anything new about the phenomenon. But perhaps, Munin turned to the puppet with an expectant look, the doll had some insight that it was willing to share?

Could Knowledge come down here for the new one? Munin stared into the fading light, scanners attempting and failing to witness the new Transcendent. A pang of pain, (worry?), beat within Munin’s chest for a moment. It wanted to be there, so badly. It felt like it had to be there, and yet it knew by the time it reached there it would be gone from this world. Knowledge would be here and gone, outside of Munin’s reach.

The doll began to speak of the nature of the worlds, mostly reiterating information Munin already knew. The spiritual realms, the worldly realms were arranged in the standard cosmological arrangement, a standard progression of those unable to see, those able to see, but now the doll introduced a new place. The “God’s Realm”, a world for those who had Transcended. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility for it to exist, but neither was it required to. Knowledge had mentioned a library that he managed, but that could easily exist on Earth as well as in this supposed realm. It would explain why we never come across them. Though even that couldn’t be guaranteed, they were hidden from Munin’s senses after all.

“How do you know that the God’s Realm exists?” Munin knelt on the ground, staring at the puppet. “It seems to be something that you couldn’t confirm without being told of its existence, wouldn’t you say?” It seemed all too knowing for a creature that lived within the Rukonagi. Unusual and bizarre, not powerful, and yet… Munin didn’t know what or how it existed. “You speak of these Gods with such ease. Have you met with one of them?” The android was keenly watching it, with its eyes fixed on the plastic. “Have you seen Knowledge? Have you witnessed the Soul King? How do you know of them?”

How could this thing exist?

Show and then tell. Of course it had to be that way. The puppet was ever evasive, even going so far as to go and stretch. It didn’t even seem to have a musculature at all! Unless the effects were only psychological? In which case, it could be merely some kind of ritual to try and get it prepared for whatever it wanted to show the android? Or maybe it was just another stalling tactic to give Munin some kind of lesson? Or perhaps it was just to frustrate it. Whatever the case, it only took the puppet a small time to perform its ritual. Even after that, it simply continued walking without saying a word.

Munin stepped out of the puppet’s way as it walked past. A few more moments passed, both parties standing in silence until the puppet finally spoke. “You want me to… look?” That was something that Munin already did. The grey stone beneath and the blue sky above had already been catalogued, as well as the scent of smoke. A fragment of blue fabric had been dropped on the floor next to a building. Just as Munin prepared to communicate this information, the puppet immediately dismissed it. Rather than all the world, it instead just wanted information about a specific cloud. Munin’s brow furrowed as it looked towards the *insert cloud name here*, and began reciting information. “It’s fairly standard. It isn’t going to rain soon, indicated by its white colour. It will drift to the west, or…” Munin paused as it calculated the atmospheric disturbance caused by the burst of light. “To the west.” It would travel a bit faster due to the Transcendent’s birth, but its trajectory was still within the descriptor of ‘west’.

“It’s unlikely to dissipate, barring any dramatic changes in the weather.” Munin paused, then looked back at the puppet. Munin hadn’t spoken of all of its knowledge, but this sort of question seemed a bit odd for the puppet. It likely didn’t care about the cloud much at all, an assumption only reinforced by the patronizing words of the puppet. A frown was summoned to Munin’s face, an attempt to show its displeasure. Did the little cloth being really think to achieve something through all of this? When was it to actually show anything?

As if provoked by Munin’s thoughts, the puppet’s aura flowed out towards the cloud. In an instant, it transformed into a representation of a male’s lower body, with a few choice additions. It was bizarre to say the least, but Munin didn’t startle at the supposedly offensive sight. No, what startled Munin was the puppet’s words. “An illusion?” Munin mumbled, as processors began to engage with the idea. An illusion seemed a poor choice of words for the reality that surrounded them. Even so, Munin listened to the puppet and gave it a chance to prove its point, but it only seemed to claim more. “I don’t believe you.” was the first declaration against it. “I was formed of metal and plastic.” Munin stepped closer to the puppet, not attempting to menace it, but just trying to read the creature’s facial expression. “Even if that is Reishi, I could modify it, but I am not extant because I choose to be aware. I am aware because my body compels me to be.” It could not be that. Munin simply couldn’t be that kind of being. “Perhaps it’s true for something like you, but I’m not like you. I’m alive because of how my body works, not because I choose to be. I am because I am!” The last word came out violently, Munin’s Reiatsu flickering in time with it.

“Your conception of the world can’t be. The world is as it is not just because we think it so. It is because it IS that way.” At some point, Munin’s hands had balled into fists. It kept on staring at the puppet, this time not because of curiosity, but in interest of what maddening reasons had lead it to that conclusion.

Even with the creature's madness, it could still be of some use. Munin paused, then nodded at its final proposition. “Go ahead, ask what questions you want. It might end up being better than your imagination of this world.” It simply was not reality. Yes, it could be manipulated, yes it could be changed by the power of those within it, but it was not just some imagining of those within it. It was real. It was whole. It was ordered. So then why are you so disturbed?

The puppet didn’t seem irritated by the outburst at all. In fact, it almost seemed like it had listened to this sort of argument many times before. Or perhaps it just didn’t care? Munin frowned, quieting as it stared at the doll below. If it wouldn’t listen, there was truly no point in pushing that topic. The puppet was either so convinced of the truth of its position that no words would convince it, or it was simply unwilling to debate that point. It simply dismissed Munin’s worry, instead just making the case that Munin had been converted into Reishi by the transport between realms.

The thought made some amount of sense. In order to exist one had to change into this form, but then what would be keeping Munin together? What kept it from simply melting away and disintegrating into pieces? Or perhaps the transition also kept Munin together by some magic of its own? Even if that was true, Munin didn’t sense any sort of continuous effect that would be needed for that. It felt the same as it always had. “I still don’t sense anything different about my body.”

Munin left it at that, frowning and listening as the puppet continued speaking, this time questioning Munin’s form. “If I’m made of Reishi, would that even matter?” Munin grinned, unable to help being a bit rude to the puppet. It was a bald-faced jab at its imagining, but simply doing that wouldn’t make any progress. “I’m an artificial being, made of steel and a fake heart. I’m no more alive than you are made of flesh and blood.” The android paused, looking at the puppet with renewed curiosity. “You’re similar, aren’t you? You’re made of thread and cloth, yet you still walk and talk as if imbued with some kind of power.”

Somehow, Munin doubted it would receive a straight answer from the creature.