Post by Sŏng-min on Jan 24, 2017 19:10:10 GMT -5
Sŏmun, Sŏng-min
Quincy
He Who Runs From Death
Name: Sŏng-min Sŏmun
Age: 24
Birthday: May 21st, 1993 | Juche Year 81
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Korean
Positive Traits: Protective, Inquisitive, Skilled & Hardworking
Negative Traits: Emotionally Unavailable, Detached, Reclusive & Somber
Loyalties: None as of yet.
Snapshots: Born in Hamhŭng, North Korea (1993), Sold into the Obsidian Mirage Mercenary Group (1998), First Confirmed Kill in Caracas, Venezuela (1998), Quincy Powers Awaken (2000), Death of Father Figure (2012), Released From Contract (2016), Moved to Japan (2016)
A Body Born From Running
Height and Weight: 5'8"/172cm & 162lbs/73kg
Hair: Roughly cut, this raven black hair shows clear signs of treatment by inadequate hand. Something akin to a streak of white lightning sketches spottily down the longest portion of hair at the back of the head, contrasting against the all consuming black with a bright shade of red.
Eyes: Notably sad amber eyes reside behind slanted lids, their focus on something otherworldly.
General Appearance: Physically speaking, Sŏng-min appears exactly as expected from a Korean soldier of fortune turned civilian. Structurally, Sŏng-min's body is one developed through necessity and hardship. Bulky and heavy muscles have formed along his arms, shoulders and legs. Even his core shows clear signs of forced development, displaying a very taut solid slab of hard muscle rather than individual bumps typically seen on those that work out. Across this marbling is tautly stretched, scar-riddled skin that has been permanently stained bronze from a lifetime spent enduring the elements.
Focusing strictly on his face, Sŏng-min is quite unremarkable in terms of the ordinary. Despite having clearly once been sharp and striking, his eyes pathetically peer out into the world through lightly slanted lids and over relatively high sitting cheek bones. His jaw line is significantly softer than those from West, and his chin ends in a smooth point. Lightly peach toned lips are often pressed into forming a thin line that gives him the appearance of being unamused or uninspired.
Everything that is his left arm has been inked in the image of an Oriental Dragon. From the back of his hand the Dragon coils, loosely wrapping around his arm as it steadily tightens into a coil the closer it gets to his shoulder. At its apex resides the head of this whiskered Dragon, just over his shoulder blade it's eyes appear to be staring behind him in vigilance. Like a silent sentry is seems to be watching, with an air of anxiety hovering around it.
Habits formed from his entire upbringing in a miliarty-esque are still present in his choices of attire. While not as singular as they once were, Sŏng-min still prefers the function and comfort of clothing over aesthetically pleasing attire. Because of this he chooses to wear a simple unbranded t-shirt that's usually a solid color and well fitted, but flexible, pants that are always black.
There's a notable air of anxiety and alertness that looms over and around Sŏng-min. He constantly appears to be looking and listening for something, eyes never staying in one place for long. On top of this, his perpetually moving hands and feet give him the image of someone ready to step into action at a moments notice.
Spiritual Description: Cold. Dark. Repugnant. These are words often used to describe Sŏng-min's smokey Reiatsu, and are more than accurate. If the Quincy truly are the Destroyers of Souls, then his Reiatsu is the embodiment of this reputation. It seems to passively choke the life out of lesser beings, while instilling a sense of dread and an impending visit from Death itself.
A Mind Numbed by Death
Psychological Overview
Sŏng-min is a seemingly calm guy that wants nothing more than to live out the rest of his life in peace. Externally he displays a clear pacifist lifestyle with no desire to partake any further in the ruthless endeavors of the world, let alone those of the Quincy. Instead he works diligently to see his own business, The Garden, come to fruition and enable him to carryout the peaceful he so desperately desires.
When it comes to people, Sŏng-min is clearly ill-equipped to deal with them. From his inability to relate with people and their emotions, to his painfully obvious disconnect from anything resembling emotion, he's easily the type people tend to just ignore so they avoid the very awkward moments that are bound to occur. The worst of it is Sŏng-min seems to be perfectly okay with this, allowing the sideways whispers and behind-the-back comments to pass in one ear and out the other.
In truth, Sŏng-min just can't bring himself to accept he'd ever amount to anything anyone would ever acknowledge. Since the beginning he'd always been viewed as a tool. An implement of death loosed from leash to do the jobs no one else was willing to do. For the lives he's saved and the personal, invisible losses he's suffered, he'd never been the recipient of a thank you. Never been congratulated for his accomplishments, or even so much as recognized. With his belief this will always be the case, he simply chooses to remain disconnected from the rest of the world.
The acquisition of new information has always been something Sŏng-min has yearned for. Books were one of the few things he was allowed as a child, and through them he was able to learn about the world outside his own. Eventually the knowledge and information these books provided wasn't enough, so he began searching for other venues. Even now, at the ripening age of twenty-four, he still shows this eagerness to learn and mentally grow. Be it through attending night classes, secretly of course, at the local community college or from frequent trips to the library or even several days long worth of surfing the internet.
A deep fear grips Sŏng-min at his very core, and has since the tender age of six; worsening after the awakening of his power. It was once said to him, while they sat around a fire eating their nights meager dinner, that no one from the Obsidian Mirage Company dies peacefully because Death himself chases them. The point was further driven by the detailed descriptions of various comrades deaths, all of which being horrific. This myth became quite real for Sŏng-min throughout his career, its existence made real by the death of one “friend” after another; eventually even befalling the man that would have been considered his father figure. However, unlike the countless others, Sŏng-min managed to serve out his contract and be released; leading him believing that he has somehow cheated Death out of a soul. Now he fears Death is seeking him out, desiring nothing more than to balance the scales Sŏng-min has set atilt.
Extra Information
Immediately following the fulfillment of his contract, Sŏng-min set out to achieve but a single goal: Live out the remainder of his life in peace. With such a daunting foe as Death chasing him, the last thing Sŏng-min wants is to accrue additional enemies. This, however, doesn't mean he's unwilling to unleash his very specific skill set upon anyone if the need arises.
Sŏng-min owns and solely operates a small business on the outer edges of Karakura aptly named The Garden. The Garden has enabled Sŏng-min to incorporate his two favorite things; Gardening and Animals. Located on the western side of the building resides a petting zoo that houses a small array of animals; ranging from creatures as small as chinchillas and other rodents, to larger animals such as llamas. The building itself houses the gardening side of his business, and specializes in the sales of all things gardening related.
Since the young age of fifteen, Sŏng-min has had one specific animal that he holds quite dear: Hye, the red panda. It's a rare occurrence to see Sŏng-min without his Hye close-by.
Located roughly seventy-five kilometers outside Karakura, on a small but comfortable plot of land, is Sŏng-min's home. The structure itself is very quaint, housing two small bedrooms and a single bath and only the bare essentials. The land, however, is specifically why he bought the place. Out of the five total acres, four are near prime farm land and he's adequately covered every available inch in a variety of fruits and vegetables.
Death Incarnate
Quincy Cross
Sŏng-min inherited his cross from a relative he'd never met, and received it on the day his Quincy training began. The cross itself is called a Geunguljang and symbolizes Chondoism. The relic supposedly belonged to the previous Sŏmun child sold into the Company, and the one before him. A supposedly ancient artifact, this Geunguljang is worn around Sŏng-min's wrist. For Sŏng-min it's more than just his cross, it's his burden and the burden of all those that wore it before him.
Spirit Weapon
Molded by a fear that reaches into the very depths of his being, Sŏng-min's spirit weapon takes on the shape of a two meter tall scythe with two crescent shaped blades that jut out from either end; giving it no discernible top or bottom. The only thing preventing a completely symmetrical appearance are the two drastically different mantle pieces appearing at each end. On one end is a human skull from whose mouth the blade seems to protrude, while on the other—in an identical display—is a dragons head.
Given the strong curve of the blades, they appear to be no longer than the shaft itself however when measured they're nearly a half meter longer. The blades themselves appear to be made of a brilliant black metal. Over the course of his life, Sŏng-min has molded the broad side of the blades to display the faces of those he regrets killing. These faces are by no means accurate depictions of the victims themselves, instead appearing as though they'd been taken from some grotesque painting depicting the unsaved in Hell; empty sockets twisted to represent agony and mouths agape to visually display their wailing.
Sŏng-min's fear of Death stretches back almost two decade, having first gripped the depths of his soul when he was just five years old. With such a fear holding him tight it comes at no surprise that his spirit weapon takes the shape it does.
Power
Sŏng-min's power directly reflects a number of the darker blotches of his soul, taking on the form of a thick black smog that rapidly decays everything that it touches.
Why He Flees
Origins
Sŏng-min is the ninth born son of the Sŏmun; branch family to the more prominent Pak family. Like every son before him, Sŏng-min's birth was viewed as a blessing; one that would be used to further support the more important Pak family. Though he doesn't remember it, his earliest years were spent being tailored to the life he'd be sold into on his fifth birthday. What he does remember is having no one to call mother or father, instead having only “temporary caretakers” that were as varied as the days of the week.
Truthfully the only static in his life was introduced on the very day of his fifth birthday, in the earliest hours of the morning before the sun had even truly revealed itself to the world for the day. He was a tough and stout looking gentlemen, with thick long black hair and dark eyes. It was he the Obsidian Mirage Company had assigned to be the newest boys mentor and caretaker; for who better than the man that had looked over the previous eight to tend to the ninth? A part of him had accepted the coming day, having heard it practically on a daily basis since before he could even remember. Perhaps that was why he didn't cry or look back.
The mans name was Black Horse, as Sŏng-min had been told to call him, and was a near full-blooded Comanche and had served the Company for more than twenty years.
From Namp'o the duo set out by boat towards South America. Aboard the boat Black Horse immediately set to the task of familiarizing the boy with an array of tools, weapons and phrases; the very basics and essentials the boy would need to learn if he hoped to live through his first tour. Sleep had been a rarity, coming in short spurts of no more than ten or twenty minutes at a time with many long hours between them. The rigors of training made it worse, being forced to run the deck of the ship until his legs felt like they'd gone numb and then being tossed into the harsh open waters of the ocean to swim alongside the slow-moving boat until his arms went unresponsive.
The physical training wasn't the worst of it. In the dark bowels of the ship he was forced to stare at a television set to show the horrors mankind was capable of, and when he couldn't or refused to keep his eyes open? They were pried open, and his head strapped to perpetually face forward.
Eventually land came within sight, and the boy still inside of him reared its head. For those few short hours happiness enveloped him, wrapping him in a warmth and restored vigor. If he closes his eyes, he can still clearly see Black Horse's dark eyes pitifully looking down at a foolish, naive little boy.
The air alone in Caracas Venezuela choked at the joy inside of him. What the air didn't wrench the life out of, the sights the dreadful city had to show did. It was a very different experience, to physically witness the horrors of mankind rather than watch them from the safety of a ships lower decks. The thundering crack of gunfire rattled his childish cage. The sickening, guttural cries cracked the bars. What finally did him in was the job he was to perform.
They say you never forget the first person you kill. What they don't say is that you never forget a single detail. You don't forget the heaviness of the gun, or how the trigger seems to refuse to budge. They don't tell you how you can still feel the kick of the gun as it discharges, or how the ringing in your ears never really goes away.
Black Horse had expected the boy to be broken by the act he'd been told to carry out. He could accept that, especially from a child barely out of the toddler phase. What he hadn't expected was the boy to be smiling when he came back, or the deadened weight so obvious in his eyes.
What Sŏng-min remembers most of that day? The steady and heavy hand that Black Horse had placed on his head, comforting and congratulating him.
Rise To Power
After Caracas, Sŏng-min had shown to be a changed boy. He worked twice as hard until it stopped being enough, and when it did he worked twice as hard as that. He pushed himself, through the pain and fear of death, to be better. To become a better tool worthy of Black Horses hand.
By age six, Black Horse began incorporating a different sort of training than the typical soldier went through. Unlike most of the humans in the world, they were Quincy; Monks of Destruction capable of inhuman abilities. Sŏng-min learned of the existence of something called Reishi, a unique particle their kind was capable of manipulating and controlling. Through it's liberal use and application, nothing was out of reach.
Alongside the missions Obsidian Mirage assigned them, Black Horse occasionally tasked Sŏng-min with jobs involving the spiritual. The objectives of these missions varied and sometimes were to be executed simultaneously with their orders from the Company. This quickly altered Sŏng-min at the very core, erasing the child inside of him entirely. In its place he had only one thing left; the need to perform in a way that would make Black Horse proud.
Sŏng-min's potential was realized during a co-op mission in San Pedro Sula, Honduras, The Company had ordered them to see to a would-be Drug Lord while Black Horse wanted the boy to execute a newly born Hollow by himself for the first time. The high demand and expectation of his performance left Sŏng-min anxious to appease his mentor. Any doubt in his ability was non existent, as his faith was fully placed in the training he'd been through.
Even at the age of eight, Sŏng-min had no fear of normal humans. Through his kinds Blut the majority of weapons they employed were ineffective or outright useless, while anything that could have harmed him was easily avoided thanks to his increasing proficiency in Hirenkyaku; a skill alongside the use of a blade he showed exceptional potential in. The souls of the men he killed were used as bait for the Hollow he sought, and the Hollow he intended to use to kill his target.
Despite being quite mature for an eight year old, his mind still hadn't fully achieved the point in development needed to completely think his actions through. When the Hollow had finally arrived, slithering across the ground like a snake while its white-masked face weaved side to side, he grew cocky and gave the beast what he called its final meal; the dozens of souls he'd been dragging along as bait. The dessert? The wanna-be drug lord.
What he hadn't expected was his liberal use of spiritual energy and the continuing stench of freshly mutilated corpses to draw the attention of even more Hollow. Soon their numbers reached six, some of them potentially being far stronger than he. When they realized there wasn't any remaining Pluses in the immediate vicinity for them to eat, they set their eyes on the boy.
In the beginning he felt his fear sink deep, molding into hopelessness. Was this the Curse? Had Death come for him so soon? A part of him wanted to give-up and throw himself into their gnashing teeth and open mouths. Yet still he fought, the need to survive and his training kicking in.
He resorted to skirmish tactics, ducking in and out of the proclaimed kill-zone while employing small and quick strikes. All he had to do was hold out long enough for Black Horse to arrive, and he'd live. Death couldn't get him with Black Horse there.
Black Horse was strong. Black Horse was invincible.
He remembers the sensation he felt in the moment he experienced his first broken bone. The sudden hair-ripping inducement of pain that erupted in his hand as his wrist shattered beneath the weight of the snake-like Hollows tail. Each subsequent bone that broke after that was lost in the haze.
Black Horse wasn't coming. Black Horse didn't care about him.
Beneath their weight he laid, mind no longer caring to try and order his body to move. There wasn't any point. He'd die here, and be replaced just as all the others before him. Or so he thought, until everything in front of him went black. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be another unclaimed body that wouldn't have a funeral, or wouldn't be missed.
Many claim to experience a bright light during their moments of near-death. For him, however, those moments were only darker. The air was filled with a foul scent that he thought was coming from the Hollows that were now producing bone-shattering wails. Through the thick smog he could see only the masks of the Hollows, its bone white surface visibly shriveling and cracking.
Through the pain he tried to smile, to grin at the sweet justice being dispensed but even the muscles in his face had gone numb and unresponsive. And soon he lost consciousness.
Over the next twelve years, Sŏng-min's life remained in a constant state of being somewhere between life and death; with an ever present fear of slipping beyond that boundary. In many cases training proved just as potentially fatal as the missions he was assigned. During this time Sŏng-min continued to vie for Black Horses attention and appreciation; he hadn't received any semblance of these things since Caracas.
It was in the year 2012 that he'd forever lose any chance of this happening.
Cape Town, South Africa. The town would remain the most memorable location he'd ever been. It was a mostly routine mission; locate and eliminate a series of targets while retrieving sensitive documents. Neither of the pair thought much of it, and separated the task between them. Sŏng-min would handle exterminating the targets while Black Horse retrieved the documents. Simple. Easy.
After completing his end of the mission, Sŏng-min attempted to reach Black Horse over the coms. Several tries into reaching out sent the young boy rushing to his partner and mentors location. On the floor, in an expansive pool of his own blood, Black Horse laid motionless until Sŏng-min perched beside him.
The man's final words would forever haunt him.
Rise To Power
Some years later Sŏng-min served out the remainder of his contract, finally being released into the world as a free man at the age of twenty-four. With his desire to flee from his past and the entity known as Death, Sŏng-min moved to Karakura and opened a small business. While the town has many things that go bump in the night, he's thus far managed to remain under the radar.
But for how long?
Quincy
He Who Runs From Death
Name: Sŏng-min Sŏmun
Age: 24
Birthday: May 21st, 1993 | Juche Year 81
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Korean
Positive Traits: Protective, Inquisitive, Skilled & Hardworking
Negative Traits: Emotionally Unavailable, Detached, Reclusive & Somber
Loyalties: None as of yet.
Snapshots: Born in Hamhŭng, North Korea (1993), Sold into the Obsidian Mirage Mercenary Group (1998), First Confirmed Kill in Caracas, Venezuela (1998), Quincy Powers Awaken (2000), Death of Father Figure (2012), Released From Contract (2016), Moved to Japan (2016)
A Body Born From Running
Height and Weight: 5'8"/172cm & 162lbs/73kg
Hair: Roughly cut, this raven black hair shows clear signs of treatment by inadequate hand. Something akin to a streak of white lightning sketches spottily down the longest portion of hair at the back of the head, contrasting against the all consuming black with a bright shade of red.
Eyes: Notably sad amber eyes reside behind slanted lids, their focus on something otherworldly.
General Appearance: Physically speaking, Sŏng-min appears exactly as expected from a Korean soldier of fortune turned civilian. Structurally, Sŏng-min's body is one developed through necessity and hardship. Bulky and heavy muscles have formed along his arms, shoulders and legs. Even his core shows clear signs of forced development, displaying a very taut solid slab of hard muscle rather than individual bumps typically seen on those that work out. Across this marbling is tautly stretched, scar-riddled skin that has been permanently stained bronze from a lifetime spent enduring the elements.
Focusing strictly on his face, Sŏng-min is quite unremarkable in terms of the ordinary. Despite having clearly once been sharp and striking, his eyes pathetically peer out into the world through lightly slanted lids and over relatively high sitting cheek bones. His jaw line is significantly softer than those from West, and his chin ends in a smooth point. Lightly peach toned lips are often pressed into forming a thin line that gives him the appearance of being unamused or uninspired.
Everything that is his left arm has been inked in the image of an Oriental Dragon. From the back of his hand the Dragon coils, loosely wrapping around his arm as it steadily tightens into a coil the closer it gets to his shoulder. At its apex resides the head of this whiskered Dragon, just over his shoulder blade it's eyes appear to be staring behind him in vigilance. Like a silent sentry is seems to be watching, with an air of anxiety hovering around it.
Habits formed from his entire upbringing in a miliarty-esque are still present in his choices of attire. While not as singular as they once were, Sŏng-min still prefers the function and comfort of clothing over aesthetically pleasing attire. Because of this he chooses to wear a simple unbranded t-shirt that's usually a solid color and well fitted, but flexible, pants that are always black.
There's a notable air of anxiety and alertness that looms over and around Sŏng-min. He constantly appears to be looking and listening for something, eyes never staying in one place for long. On top of this, his perpetually moving hands and feet give him the image of someone ready to step into action at a moments notice.
Spiritual Description: Cold. Dark. Repugnant. These are words often used to describe Sŏng-min's smokey Reiatsu, and are more than accurate. If the Quincy truly are the Destroyers of Souls, then his Reiatsu is the embodiment of this reputation. It seems to passively choke the life out of lesser beings, while instilling a sense of dread and an impending visit from Death itself.
A Mind Numbed by Death
Psychological Overview
Sŏng-min is a seemingly calm guy that wants nothing more than to live out the rest of his life in peace. Externally he displays a clear pacifist lifestyle with no desire to partake any further in the ruthless endeavors of the world, let alone those of the Quincy. Instead he works diligently to see his own business, The Garden, come to fruition and enable him to carryout the peaceful he so desperately desires.
When it comes to people, Sŏng-min is clearly ill-equipped to deal with them. From his inability to relate with people and their emotions, to his painfully obvious disconnect from anything resembling emotion, he's easily the type people tend to just ignore so they avoid the very awkward moments that are bound to occur. The worst of it is Sŏng-min seems to be perfectly okay with this, allowing the sideways whispers and behind-the-back comments to pass in one ear and out the other.
In truth, Sŏng-min just can't bring himself to accept he'd ever amount to anything anyone would ever acknowledge. Since the beginning he'd always been viewed as a tool. An implement of death loosed from leash to do the jobs no one else was willing to do. For the lives he's saved and the personal, invisible losses he's suffered, he'd never been the recipient of a thank you. Never been congratulated for his accomplishments, or even so much as recognized. With his belief this will always be the case, he simply chooses to remain disconnected from the rest of the world.
The acquisition of new information has always been something Sŏng-min has yearned for. Books were one of the few things he was allowed as a child, and through them he was able to learn about the world outside his own. Eventually the knowledge and information these books provided wasn't enough, so he began searching for other venues. Even now, at the ripening age of twenty-four, he still shows this eagerness to learn and mentally grow. Be it through attending night classes, secretly of course, at the local community college or from frequent trips to the library or even several days long worth of surfing the internet.
A deep fear grips Sŏng-min at his very core, and has since the tender age of six; worsening after the awakening of his power. It was once said to him, while they sat around a fire eating their nights meager dinner, that no one from the Obsidian Mirage Company dies peacefully because Death himself chases them. The point was further driven by the detailed descriptions of various comrades deaths, all of which being horrific. This myth became quite real for Sŏng-min throughout his career, its existence made real by the death of one “friend” after another; eventually even befalling the man that would have been considered his father figure. However, unlike the countless others, Sŏng-min managed to serve out his contract and be released; leading him believing that he has somehow cheated Death out of a soul. Now he fears Death is seeking him out, desiring nothing more than to balance the scales Sŏng-min has set atilt.
Extra Information
Immediately following the fulfillment of his contract, Sŏng-min set out to achieve but a single goal: Live out the remainder of his life in peace. With such a daunting foe as Death chasing him, the last thing Sŏng-min wants is to accrue additional enemies. This, however, doesn't mean he's unwilling to unleash his very specific skill set upon anyone if the need arises.
Sŏng-min owns and solely operates a small business on the outer edges of Karakura aptly named The Garden. The Garden has enabled Sŏng-min to incorporate his two favorite things; Gardening and Animals. Located on the western side of the building resides a petting zoo that houses a small array of animals; ranging from creatures as small as chinchillas and other rodents, to larger animals such as llamas. The building itself houses the gardening side of his business, and specializes in the sales of all things gardening related.
Since the young age of fifteen, Sŏng-min has had one specific animal that he holds quite dear: Hye, the red panda. It's a rare occurrence to see Sŏng-min without his Hye close-by.
Located roughly seventy-five kilometers outside Karakura, on a small but comfortable plot of land, is Sŏng-min's home. The structure itself is very quaint, housing two small bedrooms and a single bath and only the bare essentials. The land, however, is specifically why he bought the place. Out of the five total acres, four are near prime farm land and he's adequately covered every available inch in a variety of fruits and vegetables.
Death Incarnate
Quincy Cross
Sŏng-min inherited his cross from a relative he'd never met, and received it on the day his Quincy training began. The cross itself is called a Geunguljang and symbolizes Chondoism. The relic supposedly belonged to the previous Sŏmun child sold into the Company, and the one before him. A supposedly ancient artifact, this Geunguljang is worn around Sŏng-min's wrist. For Sŏng-min it's more than just his cross, it's his burden and the burden of all those that wore it before him.
Spirit Weapon
Molded by a fear that reaches into the very depths of his being, Sŏng-min's spirit weapon takes on the shape of a two meter tall scythe with two crescent shaped blades that jut out from either end; giving it no discernible top or bottom. The only thing preventing a completely symmetrical appearance are the two drastically different mantle pieces appearing at each end. On one end is a human skull from whose mouth the blade seems to protrude, while on the other—in an identical display—is a dragons head.
Given the strong curve of the blades, they appear to be no longer than the shaft itself however when measured they're nearly a half meter longer. The blades themselves appear to be made of a brilliant black metal. Over the course of his life, Sŏng-min has molded the broad side of the blades to display the faces of those he regrets killing. These faces are by no means accurate depictions of the victims themselves, instead appearing as though they'd been taken from some grotesque painting depicting the unsaved in Hell; empty sockets twisted to represent agony and mouths agape to visually display their wailing.
Sŏng-min's fear of Death stretches back almost two decade, having first gripped the depths of his soul when he was just five years old. With such a fear holding him tight it comes at no surprise that his spirit weapon takes the shape it does.
Power
Sŏng-min's power directly reflects a number of the darker blotches of his soul, taking on the form of a thick black smog that rapidly decays everything that it touches.
Why He Flees
Origins
Sŏng-min is the ninth born son of the Sŏmun; branch family to the more prominent Pak family. Like every son before him, Sŏng-min's birth was viewed as a blessing; one that would be used to further support the more important Pak family. Though he doesn't remember it, his earliest years were spent being tailored to the life he'd be sold into on his fifth birthday. What he does remember is having no one to call mother or father, instead having only “temporary caretakers” that were as varied as the days of the week.
Truthfully the only static in his life was introduced on the very day of his fifth birthday, in the earliest hours of the morning before the sun had even truly revealed itself to the world for the day. He was a tough and stout looking gentlemen, with thick long black hair and dark eyes. It was he the Obsidian Mirage Company had assigned to be the newest boys mentor and caretaker; for who better than the man that had looked over the previous eight to tend to the ninth? A part of him had accepted the coming day, having heard it practically on a daily basis since before he could even remember. Perhaps that was why he didn't cry or look back.
The mans name was Black Horse, as Sŏng-min had been told to call him, and was a near full-blooded Comanche and had served the Company for more than twenty years.
From Namp'o the duo set out by boat towards South America. Aboard the boat Black Horse immediately set to the task of familiarizing the boy with an array of tools, weapons and phrases; the very basics and essentials the boy would need to learn if he hoped to live through his first tour. Sleep had been a rarity, coming in short spurts of no more than ten or twenty minutes at a time with many long hours between them. The rigors of training made it worse, being forced to run the deck of the ship until his legs felt like they'd gone numb and then being tossed into the harsh open waters of the ocean to swim alongside the slow-moving boat until his arms went unresponsive.
The physical training wasn't the worst of it. In the dark bowels of the ship he was forced to stare at a television set to show the horrors mankind was capable of, and when he couldn't or refused to keep his eyes open? They were pried open, and his head strapped to perpetually face forward.
Eventually land came within sight, and the boy still inside of him reared its head. For those few short hours happiness enveloped him, wrapping him in a warmth and restored vigor. If he closes his eyes, he can still clearly see Black Horse's dark eyes pitifully looking down at a foolish, naive little boy.
The air alone in Caracas Venezuela choked at the joy inside of him. What the air didn't wrench the life out of, the sights the dreadful city had to show did. It was a very different experience, to physically witness the horrors of mankind rather than watch them from the safety of a ships lower decks. The thundering crack of gunfire rattled his childish cage. The sickening, guttural cries cracked the bars. What finally did him in was the job he was to perform.
They say you never forget the first person you kill. What they don't say is that you never forget a single detail. You don't forget the heaviness of the gun, or how the trigger seems to refuse to budge. They don't tell you how you can still feel the kick of the gun as it discharges, or how the ringing in your ears never really goes away.
Black Horse had expected the boy to be broken by the act he'd been told to carry out. He could accept that, especially from a child barely out of the toddler phase. What he hadn't expected was the boy to be smiling when he came back, or the deadened weight so obvious in his eyes.
What Sŏng-min remembers most of that day? The steady and heavy hand that Black Horse had placed on his head, comforting and congratulating him.
Rise To Power
After Caracas, Sŏng-min had shown to be a changed boy. He worked twice as hard until it stopped being enough, and when it did he worked twice as hard as that. He pushed himself, through the pain and fear of death, to be better. To become a better tool worthy of Black Horses hand.
By age six, Black Horse began incorporating a different sort of training than the typical soldier went through. Unlike most of the humans in the world, they were Quincy; Monks of Destruction capable of inhuman abilities. Sŏng-min learned of the existence of something called Reishi, a unique particle their kind was capable of manipulating and controlling. Through it's liberal use and application, nothing was out of reach.
Alongside the missions Obsidian Mirage assigned them, Black Horse occasionally tasked Sŏng-min with jobs involving the spiritual. The objectives of these missions varied and sometimes were to be executed simultaneously with their orders from the Company. This quickly altered Sŏng-min at the very core, erasing the child inside of him entirely. In its place he had only one thing left; the need to perform in a way that would make Black Horse proud.
Sŏng-min's potential was realized during a co-op mission in San Pedro Sula, Honduras, The Company had ordered them to see to a would-be Drug Lord while Black Horse wanted the boy to execute a newly born Hollow by himself for the first time. The high demand and expectation of his performance left Sŏng-min anxious to appease his mentor. Any doubt in his ability was non existent, as his faith was fully placed in the training he'd been through.
Even at the age of eight, Sŏng-min had no fear of normal humans. Through his kinds Blut the majority of weapons they employed were ineffective or outright useless, while anything that could have harmed him was easily avoided thanks to his increasing proficiency in Hirenkyaku; a skill alongside the use of a blade he showed exceptional potential in. The souls of the men he killed were used as bait for the Hollow he sought, and the Hollow he intended to use to kill his target.
Despite being quite mature for an eight year old, his mind still hadn't fully achieved the point in development needed to completely think his actions through. When the Hollow had finally arrived, slithering across the ground like a snake while its white-masked face weaved side to side, he grew cocky and gave the beast what he called its final meal; the dozens of souls he'd been dragging along as bait. The dessert? The wanna-be drug lord.
What he hadn't expected was his liberal use of spiritual energy and the continuing stench of freshly mutilated corpses to draw the attention of even more Hollow. Soon their numbers reached six, some of them potentially being far stronger than he. When they realized there wasn't any remaining Pluses in the immediate vicinity for them to eat, they set their eyes on the boy.
In the beginning he felt his fear sink deep, molding into hopelessness. Was this the Curse? Had Death come for him so soon? A part of him wanted to give-up and throw himself into their gnashing teeth and open mouths. Yet still he fought, the need to survive and his training kicking in.
He resorted to skirmish tactics, ducking in and out of the proclaimed kill-zone while employing small and quick strikes. All he had to do was hold out long enough for Black Horse to arrive, and he'd live. Death couldn't get him with Black Horse there.
Black Horse was strong. Black Horse was invincible.
He remembers the sensation he felt in the moment he experienced his first broken bone. The sudden hair-ripping inducement of pain that erupted in his hand as his wrist shattered beneath the weight of the snake-like Hollows tail. Each subsequent bone that broke after that was lost in the haze.
Black Horse wasn't coming. Black Horse didn't care about him.
Beneath their weight he laid, mind no longer caring to try and order his body to move. There wasn't any point. He'd die here, and be replaced just as all the others before him. Or so he thought, until everything in front of him went black. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be another unclaimed body that wouldn't have a funeral, or wouldn't be missed.
Many claim to experience a bright light during their moments of near-death. For him, however, those moments were only darker. The air was filled with a foul scent that he thought was coming from the Hollows that were now producing bone-shattering wails. Through the thick smog he could see only the masks of the Hollows, its bone white surface visibly shriveling and cracking.
Through the pain he tried to smile, to grin at the sweet justice being dispensed but even the muscles in his face had gone numb and unresponsive. And soon he lost consciousness.
Over the next twelve years, Sŏng-min's life remained in a constant state of being somewhere between life and death; with an ever present fear of slipping beyond that boundary. In many cases training proved just as potentially fatal as the missions he was assigned. During this time Sŏng-min continued to vie for Black Horses attention and appreciation; he hadn't received any semblance of these things since Caracas.
It was in the year 2012 that he'd forever lose any chance of this happening.
Cape Town, South Africa. The town would remain the most memorable location he'd ever been. It was a mostly routine mission; locate and eliminate a series of targets while retrieving sensitive documents. Neither of the pair thought much of it, and separated the task between them. Sŏng-min would handle exterminating the targets while Black Horse retrieved the documents. Simple. Easy.
After completing his end of the mission, Sŏng-min attempted to reach Black Horse over the coms. Several tries into reaching out sent the young boy rushing to his partner and mentors location. On the floor, in an expansive pool of his own blood, Black Horse laid motionless until Sŏng-min perched beside him.
The man's final words would forever haunt him.
Rise To Power
Some years later Sŏng-min served out the remainder of his contract, finally being released into the world as a free man at the age of twenty-four. With his desire to flee from his past and the entity known as Death, Sŏng-min moved to Karakura and opened a small business. While the town has many things that go bump in the night, he's thus far managed to remain under the radar.
But for how long?
