Post by Wishes on Feb 5, 2013 22:44:02 GMT -5
Sighing, Mitsutaka massaged his temples as he walked briskly to the Second Division, head still a bit groggy from the long night before; he’d had a lot to think about and sleep had not been easy to come by. The only fact lifting his spirits a bit at that moment was that he was traveling to see Kyousuke Tsukimiya, none other. He’d always admired the assassin, mostly for his near-unparalleled intelligence and razor-sharp cunning. No other man he’d ever met had been so quick with his biting humor and unmasked disdain; he’d been something like an idol to the Mitsutaka of a few years ago.
But that was then and this was now: once, a fool of a Fourth Seat had tried to mold himself into an uncaring and unfeeling automaton. It hadn’t worked so well. Instead, he’d been beset at all sides by betrayals—body, mind and soul. Somehow, Kyousuke had managed to remain intact. Mitsutaka intended to find out how he’d done it: that was why, at the strike of noon, he was walking towards the Second Compound at that very moment. Earlier that day he’d had some difficulty locating the place—frankly, he’d never been to the place before—but he never forgot something once he’d learnt it. The path he’d taken to the Division was burned into his brain, and his feet unerringly brought him to his destination. When he arrived the compound’s outside looked mostly empty, bereft of life but for a few training Shinigami. Where to from here? Mitsutaka closed his eyes momentarily, expanding his consciousness to spread over a mile’s radius. He needn’t have gone nearly so far; in the distance he could see a small, Japanese-style building in which the pressure of one Kyousuke Tsukimiya could be felt. Location set, he strode forward into the Second.
He walked with purpose, posture confident and thus there were few who actually looked him over; invariably they stopped what they were doing and stared; it was not every day that the Captain Commander came calling and it was even rarer to see him do so. If he hadn’t been so distinctive perhaps the recruits he passed might have convinced themselves he was someone else; as it was his messy white hair and aura of power were quite hard to miss.
The Captain Commander’s Haori he wore likely helped as well.
After a few turns, he found the relatively simple path to the building he’d felt Kyousuke in and took it. A short walk over a covered walkway—overlooking some decidedly beautiful landscaping—and he was at the end of his journey. Smiling wryly, he stood by the door and knocked quickly, almost nervously.
”Tsu—Tsukimiya-sama, it’s your biggest fan!” He couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the act.
But that was then and this was now: once, a fool of a Fourth Seat had tried to mold himself into an uncaring and unfeeling automaton. It hadn’t worked so well. Instead, he’d been beset at all sides by betrayals—body, mind and soul. Somehow, Kyousuke had managed to remain intact. Mitsutaka intended to find out how he’d done it: that was why, at the strike of noon, he was walking towards the Second Compound at that very moment. Earlier that day he’d had some difficulty locating the place—frankly, he’d never been to the place before—but he never forgot something once he’d learnt it. The path he’d taken to the Division was burned into his brain, and his feet unerringly brought him to his destination. When he arrived the compound’s outside looked mostly empty, bereft of life but for a few training Shinigami. Where to from here? Mitsutaka closed his eyes momentarily, expanding his consciousness to spread over a mile’s radius. He needn’t have gone nearly so far; in the distance he could see a small, Japanese-style building in which the pressure of one Kyousuke Tsukimiya could be felt. Location set, he strode forward into the Second.
He walked with purpose, posture confident and thus there were few who actually looked him over; invariably they stopped what they were doing and stared; it was not every day that the Captain Commander came calling and it was even rarer to see him do so. If he hadn’t been so distinctive perhaps the recruits he passed might have convinced themselves he was someone else; as it was his messy white hair and aura of power were quite hard to miss.
The Captain Commander’s Haori he wore likely helped as well.
After a few turns, he found the relatively simple path to the building he’d felt Kyousuke in and took it. A short walk over a covered walkway—overlooking some decidedly beautiful landscaping—and he was at the end of his journey. Smiling wryly, he stood by the door and knocked quickly, almost nervously.
”Tsu—Tsukimiya-sama, it’s your biggest fan!” He couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the act.