Post by Shinpei Minamoto on Jan 17, 2018 21:43:51 GMT -5
People don't change, not really. You've heard that before, haven't you? Maybe you heard it when someone you loved hurt you. Maybe you thought it when someone asked you for a second chance. Maybe you even hoped it, in a moment of weakness, thinking about an old flame. I'm perhaps the very best person in the world to offer an opinion on that front, so let me tell you now: the only time people ever change is when their wishes do. You can take a small fish and put him in a very big pond, a tiny puddle, a river or the ocean--you can surround him with sharks, minnows or whales--you can feed him with muck or the finest fish food around--
Nothing will change. Not until he realizes he must. And as you might imagine, a fish that dreams of being the biggest thing around might flourish in a small pool and flounder in the ocean. He might make mistakes out there, in the big world. He might get himself killed before he even has a chance to think about what he really wants, and to transform it.
This is why Shinpei might not have looked quite like you remember him, if indeed you do. Gone was the boastful, self-confident smile. Gone was the flirtatious manner, and gone was the easy grace he carried himself with.
Well, mostly gone. There were hints that showed through every now and then. Little flashes, like light through an old and dusty window. You could see the playboy he was in the glitter of his eyes when he heard something clever or said it himself. You could see it when he stretched, long and languid, tousling his messy black hair. It was enough to show that the spark wasn't quite out, not really. Just fading.
Shinpei was looking at a flower. It was a bellflower, if you're curious: a little five-petaled thing of white and veined purple. It was one of several on the small bush it grew from in the Karakura park, and it meant something to him.
It might mean something to you too, if you've been listening.
He was looking at it a little sadly, a little forlornly. He had wisps of his customary smile playing at the very edges of his lips. To put it plainly, he looked like a very tired man. He looked like he hadn't had a night of decent sleep in a long while, and was just a little afraid if he stopped to close his eyes they might not open again.
Knowing Shinpei's reputation, you might expect that he'd lost that sleep in the arms of a mistress or two, and in fact his time away from home had been very fruitful on that front. Here on Earth, for a time, he'd built the same kind of sweet harem he'd once enjoyed in the Soul Society. It had several differences, of course: here in Karakura town, he didn't live in a mansion and he didn't have a garden. Here he didn't have days of endless sun and he didn't have the trappings of his station (they must have stripped him of his rank by now. Wouldn't they?). Here he didn't have half the memories (but instead, a different half) and he didn't have a large hanging scroll with the single word "Love" inscribed on it by some unknown calligrapher, her brush strokes beautiful and sharp.
I should say he'd had a harem here, once, even as recently as weeks ago. Even more so than in the Soul Society his policy here had been to sleep only once with every beautiful woman who entered his bed, and to enjoy a short chase when possible. In recent weeks the chase had been discarded. At the very last, even the harem had gone. Not because he didn't treat them well (he thought of himself as particularly generous, and did want to leave everyone a little more satisfied than when he met them), and not because he chased them away; instead, he'd simply stopped finding new women to grace his bed. Like all the desire had gone right out of him. Like he'd finally given up on whatever errand he believed he was running.
This little fish had never learned how to change his wish, and time was catching up with him.
Shinpei stood up, groaning slightly as he stretched the ache out of his muscles. He'd been lost in thought, staring at that flower, for quite some time. He didn't have an exact estimate.
And if he thought of anything in particular now, he didn't say it.
Shinpei walked slowly down the path through the park, new in many ways to him but still bearing hints of the park he'd known all those years ago, here with... he'd memorized this place in the little time he'd had to enjoy it, and often imagined walking through it when he was beset by worry or doubts.
There was a voice in his head, I suppose I should mention. Something that nagged at him now and then in his weaker moments.
Douji?
Oh, we haven't seen his sword spirit in a long while. I wonder what happened to the little tyke?
He walked along, his bright blue kimono startling and out-of-place among the few people he passed. Once it had hung over him carelessly, giving peeks of flesh here and there to tantalize and to draw attention. Good or bad, he didn't mind. Hadn't. Now, though, it seemed more like it had fallen or shifted here and there over the course of the day and he'd not had the energy to fix it. It didn't seem like he fully filled it out anymore, although it wasn't like he could get all that much thinner. A little hard to explain, I suppose.
It was only when he was pretty much right on top of her that he felt the briefest red sparks of her Reiatsu. He never was very good at that, was he?
A little bit of that smile came back onto his face. A little bit of sparkle in his eyes.
"Don't I know you from somewhere?"
Nothing will change. Not until he realizes he must. And as you might imagine, a fish that dreams of being the biggest thing around might flourish in a small pool and flounder in the ocean. He might make mistakes out there, in the big world. He might get himself killed before he even has a chance to think about what he really wants, and to transform it.
This is why Shinpei might not have looked quite like you remember him, if indeed you do. Gone was the boastful, self-confident smile. Gone was the flirtatious manner, and gone was the easy grace he carried himself with.
Well, mostly gone. There were hints that showed through every now and then. Little flashes, like light through an old and dusty window. You could see the playboy he was in the glitter of his eyes when he heard something clever or said it himself. You could see it when he stretched, long and languid, tousling his messy black hair. It was enough to show that the spark wasn't quite out, not really. Just fading.
Shinpei was looking at a flower. It was a bellflower, if you're curious: a little five-petaled thing of white and veined purple. It was one of several on the small bush it grew from in the Karakura park, and it meant something to him.
It might mean something to you too, if you've been listening.
He was looking at it a little sadly, a little forlornly. He had wisps of his customary smile playing at the very edges of his lips. To put it plainly, he looked like a very tired man. He looked like he hadn't had a night of decent sleep in a long while, and was just a little afraid if he stopped to close his eyes they might not open again.
Knowing Shinpei's reputation, you might expect that he'd lost that sleep in the arms of a mistress or two, and in fact his time away from home had been very fruitful on that front. Here on Earth, for a time, he'd built the same kind of sweet harem he'd once enjoyed in the Soul Society. It had several differences, of course: here in Karakura town, he didn't live in a mansion and he didn't have a garden. Here he didn't have days of endless sun and he didn't have the trappings of his station (they must have stripped him of his rank by now. Wouldn't they?). Here he didn't have half the memories (but instead, a different half) and he didn't have a large hanging scroll with the single word "Love" inscribed on it by some unknown calligrapher, her brush strokes beautiful and sharp.
I should say he'd had a harem here, once, even as recently as weeks ago. Even more so than in the Soul Society his policy here had been to sleep only once with every beautiful woman who entered his bed, and to enjoy a short chase when possible. In recent weeks the chase had been discarded. At the very last, even the harem had gone. Not because he didn't treat them well (he thought of himself as particularly generous, and did want to leave everyone a little more satisfied than when he met them), and not because he chased them away; instead, he'd simply stopped finding new women to grace his bed. Like all the desire had gone right out of him. Like he'd finally given up on whatever errand he believed he was running.
This little fish had never learned how to change his wish, and time was catching up with him.
Shinpei stood up, groaning slightly as he stretched the ache out of his muscles. He'd been lost in thought, staring at that flower, for quite some time. He didn't have an exact estimate.
And if he thought of anything in particular now, he didn't say it.
Shinpei walked slowly down the path through the park, new in many ways to him but still bearing hints of the park he'd known all those years ago, here with... he'd memorized this place in the little time he'd had to enjoy it, and often imagined walking through it when he was beset by worry or doubts.
There was a voice in his head, I suppose I should mention. Something that nagged at him now and then in his weaker moments.
Douji?
Oh, we haven't seen his sword spirit in a long while. I wonder what happened to the little tyke?
He walked along, his bright blue kimono startling and out-of-place among the few people he passed. Once it had hung over him carelessly, giving peeks of flesh here and there to tantalize and to draw attention. Good or bad, he didn't mind. Hadn't. Now, though, it seemed more like it had fallen or shifted here and there over the course of the day and he'd not had the energy to fix it. It didn't seem like he fully filled it out anymore, although it wasn't like he could get all that much thinner. A little hard to explain, I suppose.
It was only when he was pretty much right on top of her that he felt the briefest red sparks of her Reiatsu. He never was very good at that, was he?
A little bit of that smile came back onto his face. A little bit of sparkle in his eyes.
"Don't I know you from somewhere?"
