Post by Shinpei Minamoto on Nov 24, 2016 1:14:16 GMT -5
Life sure is something, don't you think?
Shinpei sure thought so. He thought it was a wild ride and a whole ton of fun and a few other choice things that he kept to himself, mostly, unless he was drunk or alone or both. Not that he got drunk that often, mind you. No more than exactly once a year, like a perfectly dysfunctional clock. The kind that runs for hundreds of years even though the hands are just a little bit off no matter what.
Have you missed me? I've missed you, all of you, and I have so much to tell. As for why and where Shinpei was, that'll have to wait for a little later.
Right now he's here, walking along the slightly dusty cobblestone road that led to the Fifth. It was a beautifully engineered day (just like it almost always was in the Seireitei proper) and the sun, or what passed for it, was shining down on him.
Shinpei had been around long enough to remember a different kind of road on this path: by the standards of the long-lived Shinigami, you could even call it a recent change. Nothing around the Fifth Division lasted too long. They made bulls in a china shop look like elegant, conscientious customers. That was the way of the Fifth: everything in excess.
He'd really enjoyed his time as a member. No paperwork, or relatively little of it, and few enough demands on his time. Even when the job kept him away from the lovely ladies waiting for him at home, it hadn't been too much of a trial.
The benefits of having an inspirational Captain.
But she'd left for the Second, and he'd followed her, and now here he was once more Divisionless. The not-so-lurid details will come soon enough, but for now be satisfied that it was a really wonderful day and he was here because... well, just because. He'd been bored at home, his sister's garden didnt need anything urgently, and so he'd torn himself away from the soft hands and softer sighs and come here.
As always, he stuck out like a sore thumb. In a city where almost all Shinigami wore the same robes and half the citizens tried to imitate their style, he was one hundred percent the odd man out. He wore the robes, but they weren't black and they certainly weren't properly fastened. Instead, his robes were a kind of blue today and they had flower-print all over. From the sleeves to the very bottom, where a corner of the cloth dipped a little too low and caught a luff of dust here and there. His clothes seemed like they were half falling off: brief peeks of his toned chest and his legs were illuminated by the sun before fading back into shadow.
In other words, he looked as loose and as careless as he always did. Even his hair was a little messy, and the smile on his face was an easy one.
He was Shinpei Minamoto. He didn't have anyone to answer to unless you count his brother, and Shinpei certainly didn't.
All in all, only his eyes showed any kind of nuance that betrayed his playboy-like appearance and reputation. He hadn't been sleeping so well: maybe you could say he looked a little haunted. You wouldn't be so far off from the truth of the matter.
Shinpei walked lazily along as the central compound of the Fifth grew in size. He paused before the gate and leaned on the waist-high wooden walls. There were more than a few Shinigami training: a young pair sparred off with sticks in the courtyard while another several were practicing their sword strokes and Kumai. Their technique wasn't much to look at, but the strength behind each swing was nothing to make light of.
His eyes continued on, found nothing much else, and would have returned to the trainees but a brief flash of red caught his eye. He turned and spied a tall, well-built woman with a trailing red ponytail in the very corner of the training yard. As he watched she used a wooden sword to clumsily slash at a training dummy's neck, avoiding the scarred wooden structure by half an inch or so. Shinpei shook his head: the way she handled that sword probably looked fine to most, but a Shinigami of the Fifth should have known better. Shinpei didn't like to brag (he did), but his own sword work--
Instead of proceeding to cut the dummy into tiny bits, or pretending do, she returned the training sword to the dummy's hands. Then she expertly wrested it free. Then she put it back and did the same thing again. It was a hand-to-hand drill, not a cutting exercise, and Shinpei began to look at her with appreciation. Her swordsmanship was nothing much to look at, but she was very good with her hands. She reminded him of his most recent Captain, and another woman before her.
I've always said it; he had a one-track mind. He never could change gears without a whole lot of trouble. He was over that waist-high fence in a second.
"That drill is much better with a partner," he called to her as he approached. "I've got a sword and a pair of hands I could lend if you pretend to treat them humanely."
He grinned at her in his customary way. Up close he had more to say about how she looked, but that'll have to wait for next time.
Out of his own mouth but quite by accident, came the following:
"Besides, you should be using your wrists more."
Shinpei sure thought so. He thought it was a wild ride and a whole ton of fun and a few other choice things that he kept to himself, mostly, unless he was drunk or alone or both. Not that he got drunk that often, mind you. No more than exactly once a year, like a perfectly dysfunctional clock. The kind that runs for hundreds of years even though the hands are just a little bit off no matter what.
Have you missed me? I've missed you, all of you, and I have so much to tell. As for why and where Shinpei was, that'll have to wait for a little later.
Right now he's here, walking along the slightly dusty cobblestone road that led to the Fifth. It was a beautifully engineered day (just like it almost always was in the Seireitei proper) and the sun, or what passed for it, was shining down on him.
Shinpei had been around long enough to remember a different kind of road on this path: by the standards of the long-lived Shinigami, you could even call it a recent change. Nothing around the Fifth Division lasted too long. They made bulls in a china shop look like elegant, conscientious customers. That was the way of the Fifth: everything in excess.
He'd really enjoyed his time as a member. No paperwork, or relatively little of it, and few enough demands on his time. Even when the job kept him away from the lovely ladies waiting for him at home, it hadn't been too much of a trial.
The benefits of having an inspirational Captain.
But she'd left for the Second, and he'd followed her, and now here he was once more Divisionless. The not-so-lurid details will come soon enough, but for now be satisfied that it was a really wonderful day and he was here because... well, just because. He'd been bored at home, his sister's garden didnt need anything urgently, and so he'd torn himself away from the soft hands and softer sighs and come here.
As always, he stuck out like a sore thumb. In a city where almost all Shinigami wore the same robes and half the citizens tried to imitate their style, he was one hundred percent the odd man out. He wore the robes, but they weren't black and they certainly weren't properly fastened. Instead, his robes were a kind of blue today and they had flower-print all over. From the sleeves to the very bottom, where a corner of the cloth dipped a little too low and caught a luff of dust here and there. His clothes seemed like they were half falling off: brief peeks of his toned chest and his legs were illuminated by the sun before fading back into shadow.
In other words, he looked as loose and as careless as he always did. Even his hair was a little messy, and the smile on his face was an easy one.
He was Shinpei Minamoto. He didn't have anyone to answer to unless you count his brother, and Shinpei certainly didn't.
All in all, only his eyes showed any kind of nuance that betrayed his playboy-like appearance and reputation. He hadn't been sleeping so well: maybe you could say he looked a little haunted. You wouldn't be so far off from the truth of the matter.
Shinpei walked lazily along as the central compound of the Fifth grew in size. He paused before the gate and leaned on the waist-high wooden walls. There were more than a few Shinigami training: a young pair sparred off with sticks in the courtyard while another several were practicing their sword strokes and Kumai. Their technique wasn't much to look at, but the strength behind each swing was nothing to make light of.
His eyes continued on, found nothing much else, and would have returned to the trainees but a brief flash of red caught his eye. He turned and spied a tall, well-built woman with a trailing red ponytail in the very corner of the training yard. As he watched she used a wooden sword to clumsily slash at a training dummy's neck, avoiding the scarred wooden structure by half an inch or so. Shinpei shook his head: the way she handled that sword probably looked fine to most, but a Shinigami of the Fifth should have known better. Shinpei didn't like to brag (he did), but his own sword work--
Instead of proceeding to cut the dummy into tiny bits, or pretending do, she returned the training sword to the dummy's hands. Then she expertly wrested it free. Then she put it back and did the same thing again. It was a hand-to-hand drill, not a cutting exercise, and Shinpei began to look at her with appreciation. Her swordsmanship was nothing much to look at, but she was very good with her hands. She reminded him of his most recent Captain, and another woman before her.
I've always said it; he had a one-track mind. He never could change gears without a whole lot of trouble. He was over that waist-high fence in a second.
"That drill is much better with a partner," he called to her as he approached. "I've got a sword and a pair of hands I could lend if you pretend to treat them humanely."
He grinned at her in his customary way. Up close he had more to say about how she looked, but that'll have to wait for next time.
Out of his own mouth but quite by accident, came the following:
"Besides, you should be using your wrists more."
