Post by Knowledge on Feb 20, 2011 21:03:00 GMT -5
Name: Kyousuke Tsukimiya
Division: Exiled
Current Rank: Lieutenant-level
Desired Rank: Captain-level
Holder of desired rank: N/A
Hueco Mundo fascinated Kyousuke. It was as simple as that, the stark beauty of it all was captivating in a strange way. The desert sands served as an excellent backdrop to his conversations with Kannaduki, conversations that he was having more and more often with the turmoil that was rocking his soul ever so gently. Her hints were subtle, but they had become more and more desperate since coming to this desert wasteland. Was the white sand and eternal night sky changing him? Was it the mask he always carried close to his heart? He couldn't say for sure, but Chisame Konishi had clearly not done enough research. Something about the mask was affecting him; he just didn't know how.
His outings to Earth were not as regularly occurring as they had been when he was a part of the Fourth Division, and that was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it gave him more time for personal reflection, on the other, he didn't feel like he was doing enough footwork. He managed to stay sharp by sparring intermittently with the Espada, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were actually trying to kill him. Kyousuke remained defensive as he always had, tiring them out and striking when an opportunity presented itself, but even he had to admit that his defense wasn't absolute and the cero was a formidable weapon to face.
His usage of the mask had become an almost addiction-like habit on earth, he kept his face hidden whenever he visited Karakura. He had encountered the odd shinigami, and they had all either died to his sword or never figured out who he was and been left confused as he disappeared. He wasn't going out of his way to kill them or even engage them, but sometimes it became a necessity. They were collateral damage, like the people that had died when Urufu and he had destroyed that block—faceless entities, people without identities. Figures, not people. Numbers. Statistics.
Kyousuke found himself oddly close to his companions in a way he had never been in Soul Society, but the detachment flowed back like an incoming tide whenever he left their company. It was a reassuring feeling, being disconnected from his surroundings, and the easy smile and superficial charm came back with it, hiding the void where his emotions should have been. He felt more like himself the less he cared, and it was bliss. The conveniences he had been afforded at the Fourth's headquarters were a regrettable loss, but he was able to make do with what he had. The companionship, he wasn't so sure if he missed. Haruna Kotegawa's affection was technically one-sided, but it didn't exactly hurt to have someone infatuated with you around. Chisame Konishi was an intellectual equal, but her craftsmanship was hard to match. He was still thankful to this day for the mask he always carried, and that was an emotion that was difficult to shake off.
He had spent a day in quiet contemplation when he decided to go to Earth on one of his outings. He donned his mask and drew his blade, muttering the release phrase and cutting open the fabric of reality. The familiar static filled his ears and the smell of exhaust fumes and heat welled over him like a wave. They were good smells; they smelled like civilization, and the decay that so often accompanied it. It was midday in Karakura, and he stepped out into the air high above the city, sunlight warming his back as he peered down at the teeming masses below. He had no specific purpose, he was there to watch, as he always did. He had yet to meet a foe that posed a significant threat, but he still suppressed his reiatsu as a precaution. He didn't want to attract attention. As the portal closed behind him, he jetted off toward the city center, his uniform rippling in the wind.
The crowds thronged all around him as he alighted in the middle of an intersection, and he let himself be swept away by the current of pedestrians. Out of nowhere, an arm snatched his wrist and he turned to come face to face with a light-haired shinigami. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in the middle of my operation?" he demanded gruffly. He stank of a fresh junior officer, the attitude written all over his face. He probably wasn't anything higher than a fourth seat, and the smugness in the word "operation" brought back memories.
Kyousuke surmised he was a member of the Second Division, which meant there were two more of them close by. Only the Second referred to kill missions as "operations", and they often worked in teams of three; Kyousuke himself had taken part in numerous such assignments in his days as an assassin.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was interrupting someth—" he broke off mid-sentence as he delivered a hefty knee to the other man's stomach, and he stooped to catch him as he doubled over, gripping him by the neck. "Where are the other two?" he asked softly as the man gasped for breath. Kyousuke scanned the air above, remembering the standard procedure: one on the ground, two above for backup. He asked again, tightening his grip and returning his gaze to the man he was holding down. He was trying to speak, his voice coming out in hoarse whispers.
"One on the glass building, on one the theater." He gestured at the two buildings vaguely and Kyousuke muttered his thanks before drawing Kannaduki and slashing the man's throat in one fluid motion. He fell to the ground as Kyousuke stood up, and his life flowed out onto the pavement, unseen by the people around them.
Staying in the crowd, Kyousuke moved toward the glass building the shinigami had pointed at. He slipped into a service alley and launched himself straight up, stepping onto the lip of the roof lightly. Sure enough, there was one more shinigami waiting there, his back turned to Kyousuke as he looked down at where the first assassin had died. He was gesticulating wildly in the direction of the theater, and Kyousuke flash stepped behind him and ran him through, pulling Kannaduki out sideways leaving his torso only half-joined to his lower body. As he fell, he twisted in the air, a look of complete surprise on his face. There was blood everywhere. Across the intersection, on top of the theater, Kyousuke could make out the last shinigami, who was staring in horror at his comrade's falling corpse.
Not wasting a second, Kyousuke flash stepped again, but the last shinigami got his blade up just in time to block the incoming downwards cut. He counterattacked with a wide swing, but Kyousuke parried it almost lazily, kicking the man square in the chest, sending him sprawling. He let him get up before closing the distance once more, and they exchanged blows, none of them gaining any purchase until they met in a sword lock. Kyousuke's mask was only inches from the other man's face, and although he couldn't feel his breath, Kyousuke could see him panting heavily.
"Who are you?" he asked breathlessly, fear tinging his voice. Kyousuke pushed away, sliding backwards, and hurled the mask at the other man, who blocked frantically, cleaving the mask in two.
It was the opening Kyousuke wanted, and he followed swiftly, zipping past his opponent's blade, exposing his face for an instant before plunging Kannaduki hilt-deep into the man's chest. A look of horror mixed with pain was written all over the other man's face, and he gasped his dying words.
"You're supposed to be..." He trailed off with a gurgle, and Kyousuke finished his sentence for him.
"Dead, yes, I know. Appearances can be deceiving." He pulled Kannaduki free and the man fell over noiselessly. He checked his pulse, and sure enough, he was dead. Couldn't be too careful, this one had seen his face. He retrieved what was left of his mask and reshaped it, putting it back on and then stooping to clean Kannaduki off on the dead man's uniform. Sticking around would be a mistake, his visit would have to be cut short. He sighed to himself, opened a portal home, and listened regretfully as it closed behind him.
Division: Exiled
Current Rank: Lieutenant-level
Desired Rank: Captain-level
Holder of desired rank: N/A
Hueco Mundo fascinated Kyousuke. It was as simple as that, the stark beauty of it all was captivating in a strange way. The desert sands served as an excellent backdrop to his conversations with Kannaduki, conversations that he was having more and more often with the turmoil that was rocking his soul ever so gently. Her hints were subtle, but they had become more and more desperate since coming to this desert wasteland. Was the white sand and eternal night sky changing him? Was it the mask he always carried close to his heart? He couldn't say for sure, but Chisame Konishi had clearly not done enough research. Something about the mask was affecting him; he just didn't know how.
His outings to Earth were not as regularly occurring as they had been when he was a part of the Fourth Division, and that was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it gave him more time for personal reflection, on the other, he didn't feel like he was doing enough footwork. He managed to stay sharp by sparring intermittently with the Espada, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were actually trying to kill him. Kyousuke remained defensive as he always had, tiring them out and striking when an opportunity presented itself, but even he had to admit that his defense wasn't absolute and the cero was a formidable weapon to face.
His usage of the mask had become an almost addiction-like habit on earth, he kept his face hidden whenever he visited Karakura. He had encountered the odd shinigami, and they had all either died to his sword or never figured out who he was and been left confused as he disappeared. He wasn't going out of his way to kill them or even engage them, but sometimes it became a necessity. They were collateral damage, like the people that had died when Urufu and he had destroyed that block—faceless entities, people without identities. Figures, not people. Numbers. Statistics.
Kyousuke found himself oddly close to his companions in a way he had never been in Soul Society, but the detachment flowed back like an incoming tide whenever he left their company. It was a reassuring feeling, being disconnected from his surroundings, and the easy smile and superficial charm came back with it, hiding the void where his emotions should have been. He felt more like himself the less he cared, and it was bliss. The conveniences he had been afforded at the Fourth's headquarters were a regrettable loss, but he was able to make do with what he had. The companionship, he wasn't so sure if he missed. Haruna Kotegawa's affection was technically one-sided, but it didn't exactly hurt to have someone infatuated with you around. Chisame Konishi was an intellectual equal, but her craftsmanship was hard to match. He was still thankful to this day for the mask he always carried, and that was an emotion that was difficult to shake off.
He had spent a day in quiet contemplation when he decided to go to Earth on one of his outings. He donned his mask and drew his blade, muttering the release phrase and cutting open the fabric of reality. The familiar static filled his ears and the smell of exhaust fumes and heat welled over him like a wave. They were good smells; they smelled like civilization, and the decay that so often accompanied it. It was midday in Karakura, and he stepped out into the air high above the city, sunlight warming his back as he peered down at the teeming masses below. He had no specific purpose, he was there to watch, as he always did. He had yet to meet a foe that posed a significant threat, but he still suppressed his reiatsu as a precaution. He didn't want to attract attention. As the portal closed behind him, he jetted off toward the city center, his uniform rippling in the wind.
The crowds thronged all around him as he alighted in the middle of an intersection, and he let himself be swept away by the current of pedestrians. Out of nowhere, an arm snatched his wrist and he turned to come face to face with a light-haired shinigami. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in the middle of my operation?" he demanded gruffly. He stank of a fresh junior officer, the attitude written all over his face. He probably wasn't anything higher than a fourth seat, and the smugness in the word "operation" brought back memories.
Kyousuke surmised he was a member of the Second Division, which meant there were two more of them close by. Only the Second referred to kill missions as "operations", and they often worked in teams of three; Kyousuke himself had taken part in numerous such assignments in his days as an assassin.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was interrupting someth—" he broke off mid-sentence as he delivered a hefty knee to the other man's stomach, and he stooped to catch him as he doubled over, gripping him by the neck. "Where are the other two?" he asked softly as the man gasped for breath. Kyousuke scanned the air above, remembering the standard procedure: one on the ground, two above for backup. He asked again, tightening his grip and returning his gaze to the man he was holding down. He was trying to speak, his voice coming out in hoarse whispers.
"One on the glass building, on one the theater." He gestured at the two buildings vaguely and Kyousuke muttered his thanks before drawing Kannaduki and slashing the man's throat in one fluid motion. He fell to the ground as Kyousuke stood up, and his life flowed out onto the pavement, unseen by the people around them.
Staying in the crowd, Kyousuke moved toward the glass building the shinigami had pointed at. He slipped into a service alley and launched himself straight up, stepping onto the lip of the roof lightly. Sure enough, there was one more shinigami waiting there, his back turned to Kyousuke as he looked down at where the first assassin had died. He was gesticulating wildly in the direction of the theater, and Kyousuke flash stepped behind him and ran him through, pulling Kannaduki out sideways leaving his torso only half-joined to his lower body. As he fell, he twisted in the air, a look of complete surprise on his face. There was blood everywhere. Across the intersection, on top of the theater, Kyousuke could make out the last shinigami, who was staring in horror at his comrade's falling corpse.
Not wasting a second, Kyousuke flash stepped again, but the last shinigami got his blade up just in time to block the incoming downwards cut. He counterattacked with a wide swing, but Kyousuke parried it almost lazily, kicking the man square in the chest, sending him sprawling. He let him get up before closing the distance once more, and they exchanged blows, none of them gaining any purchase until they met in a sword lock. Kyousuke's mask was only inches from the other man's face, and although he couldn't feel his breath, Kyousuke could see him panting heavily.
"Who are you?" he asked breathlessly, fear tinging his voice. Kyousuke pushed away, sliding backwards, and hurled the mask at the other man, who blocked frantically, cleaving the mask in two.
It was the opening Kyousuke wanted, and he followed swiftly, zipping past his opponent's blade, exposing his face for an instant before plunging Kannaduki hilt-deep into the man's chest. A look of horror mixed with pain was written all over the other man's face, and he gasped his dying words.
"You're supposed to be..." He trailed off with a gurgle, and Kyousuke finished his sentence for him.
"Dead, yes, I know. Appearances can be deceiving." He pulled Kannaduki free and the man fell over noiselessly. He checked his pulse, and sure enough, he was dead. Couldn't be too careful, this one had seen his face. He retrieved what was left of his mask and reshaped it, putting it back on and then stooping to clean Kannaduki off on the dead man's uniform. Sticking around would be a mistake, his visit would have to be cut short. He sighed to himself, opened a portal home, and listened regretfully as it closed behind him.
