Post by Caspar Berg on Sept 29, 2017 11:26:36 GMT -5
The sun had been shining since early morning and it was as warm as it had been the entire sunny season. Even though they had entered the time of year for the fall, not a single cloud obscured the sky. It was a spectacular day to spend outside, doing activities that would probably be off the table for the rest of the year.
For their final day in the Shin'ō Academy, their instructors had chosen a open field while some construction workers had made a staging area for the shinigami to perform, a grand stage at the front and hundreds of seats around them, all over the lawn that covered the concrete platform that made up most of their marching grounds. In each corner stood a banner representing the latter four divisions, along with a flag of the Seireitei Administration and High Command raised sky high over the stage.
--
It had been several years since he first set foot in the academy. Over two hundred years had passed since his coming to Rukongai for the first time, a soul who couldn’t even recall what had moved him between the worlds. That one strike to the head was all the memory he had before waking up in the seventh district, all alone without any means to defend himself or survive. He recalled the first time he had met a shinigami, a strawberry blonde female of russian descent. He would never forget the traumatic event he had survived nor everything he had lost that day. His urge to survive paired with the confidence he had gained after encountering her had led him to this day. At last, he thought to himself. The day he could don the robes of the Shinigami, the Shihakushō, was here.
He had excelled in the art of hand to hand combat which had become his strong suit along with his speed. Unlike most of his peers, he had never found love for the asauchi, even though he had the desire to get to know his blade and the soul he knew would one day reside in it. There were some parts of his training and education that had come easy to him; Caspar was a bright man, not as strong as a viking but many times more educated and quick witted.
Six years. Seventy-two months. Three-hundred-and-twelve weeks. Two-thousand-one-hundred-and-ninety-one days. He had counted every single one of them as he woke up each day.
And at last, he had found the place where he knew he wanted to, nay, needed to end up. From the first day he had heard about the division until the day he handed in his request to it, he made it his mission to succeed with this one ambition.
--
The atmosphere on the premise seemed joyous and most of the graduates were already with their respective classes. The golden-haired Scandinavian approached his fellow graduates, most of which had already arrived, gathered in groups of twenty-five, as large as every class in the academy. In each row, five shinigami, dressed in their newly acquired Shihakushō’s, stood poised and in attention.
Whatever the spectators seemed to expect, this was to become a graduation like no other. A couple of exercises to show the masses along with the presentation of a few exemplary students to impress them passed the time as the newly graduated shinigami sat between his classmates. Joanna, the woman on his left, an older woman who appeared to be in her fifties, smiled at all the people who went up to present their skill.
“I don’t think I’ve seen that one before.” In front stood a young woman, still a teenager it seemed, with long flowing hair and an asauchi in her hands. She unsheathed the sword and began her dance as they all watched. The academy students were impressed by her movements. The hair flowing around her as she spun while spinning the blade around her hand and at the same time almost it seemed as she was levitating over the floor as she moved her feet.
“Amazing,” she expressed, a grand smile plastered over her face from excitement. She looked at Caspar, who nodded in agreement.
Post words: 695
Total words: 695
For their final day in the Shin'ō Academy, their instructors had chosen a open field while some construction workers had made a staging area for the shinigami to perform, a grand stage at the front and hundreds of seats around them, all over the lawn that covered the concrete platform that made up most of their marching grounds. In each corner stood a banner representing the latter four divisions, along with a flag of the Seireitei Administration and High Command raised sky high over the stage.
--
It had been several years since he first set foot in the academy. Over two hundred years had passed since his coming to Rukongai for the first time, a soul who couldn’t even recall what had moved him between the worlds. That one strike to the head was all the memory he had before waking up in the seventh district, all alone without any means to defend himself or survive. He recalled the first time he had met a shinigami, a strawberry blonde female of russian descent. He would never forget the traumatic event he had survived nor everything he had lost that day. His urge to survive paired with the confidence he had gained after encountering her had led him to this day. At last, he thought to himself. The day he could don the robes of the Shinigami, the Shihakushō, was here.
He had excelled in the art of hand to hand combat which had become his strong suit along with his speed. Unlike most of his peers, he had never found love for the asauchi, even though he had the desire to get to know his blade and the soul he knew would one day reside in it. There were some parts of his training and education that had come easy to him; Caspar was a bright man, not as strong as a viking but many times more educated and quick witted.
Six years. Seventy-two months. Three-hundred-and-twelve weeks. Two-thousand-one-hundred-and-ninety-one days. He had counted every single one of them as he woke up each day.
And at last, he had found the place where he knew he wanted to, nay, needed to end up. From the first day he had heard about the division until the day he handed in his request to it, he made it his mission to succeed with this one ambition.
--
The atmosphere on the premise seemed joyous and most of the graduates were already with their respective classes. The golden-haired Scandinavian approached his fellow graduates, most of which had already arrived, gathered in groups of twenty-five, as large as every class in the academy. In each row, five shinigami, dressed in their newly acquired Shihakushō’s, stood poised and in attention.
Whatever the spectators seemed to expect, this was to become a graduation like no other. A couple of exercises to show the masses along with the presentation of a few exemplary students to impress them passed the time as the newly graduated shinigami sat between his classmates. Joanna, the woman on his left, an older woman who appeared to be in her fifties, smiled at all the people who went up to present their skill.
“I don’t think I’ve seen that one before.” In front stood a young woman, still a teenager it seemed, with long flowing hair and an asauchi in her hands. She unsheathed the sword and began her dance as they all watched. The academy students were impressed by her movements. The hair flowing around her as she spun while spinning the blade around her hand and at the same time almost it seemed as she was levitating over the floor as she moved her feet.
“Amazing,” she expressed, a grand smile plastered over her face from excitement. She looked at Caspar, who nodded in agreement.
Post words: 695
Total words: 695
