Post by Yoshinori Okamoto on Jun 4, 2022 18:56:54 GMT -5
Flashback Sequence.
One Week Prior, Yoshinori's Living Room, Soul Society. Yoshinori's House.
"You're transferring again, Yoshi? Why this time? I thought you liked Captain Kinizuru."
He could always trust Azula Hijikata to call him out on something. Choosing to visit Yoshinori on a random evening during his final few days of his temporary vacaion leave following the Hogyoku incident, the purple haired Shinigami had brought food as her "bribe" for Yoshinori to let her in. And let her in he did. After all, she was one of his oldest friends. One of his first friends after his entrance into the Shino Academy, the two of them were just children then, bound by a mutual respect for each other and an acknowledgement of each other's layers, the likes of which weren't so easily observable in their actions. Azula's confidence and perceptiveness complimented Yoshinori, but most of all she didn't judge him. She knew him before the jewels that hid away his uglier side. She knew of his past, back when it was raw and uncovered, yet still approached him. Even though their duties kept them from coming together as often as they would both like, Azula still found time every now and then to force her way back into Yoshinori's life. Thankfully, she didn't have to try too hard.
"I need a change of pace. It's nothing personal." The response was unusually subdued, at least when considering who he was talking to.
Azula pursued her lips, remaining silent for several seconds as she sipped her cup of tea. Yoshinori had prepared it for the both of them. Chamomile Tea, one of Yoshinori's favored types. Savoring the mild sweetness of the drink, the purple haired First Division officer closed her eyes for a period of three seconds before opening them once more, her eyes settling upon her dinner partner.
"It's not your fault. You don't have to blame yourself.
To Yoshinori, he felt as if it was his fault. He had violated his promise to Maria. While his actions had saved countless lives from untold levels of destruction, not to mention the dimensions as he knew it, he had contributed to ruining another's life. In the end, Valentina perished with hatred in her heart, bitter and angry at the world. And what had he done? Blindly opposed her, and turned a blind eye to the root of the problem. What made him any better than any of the Shinigami that he spent so much time ridiculing? Condemning. Weren't they also afflicted by the same blindness? The same apathy? It didn't do to simply wallow in regret after the fact. Regret doesn't fix Valentina's fate.
So, he had made a decision. Perhaps in time, he would be able to evaluate as to whether his newest chapter was worthwhile or not.
"Who will it be this time?" Azula asked, her tone gentle as she stared at her friend. He had entertained her as well as any host could, but she was no fool. She could sense the difference in the air, the shift in Yoshinori from what he was even several weeks ago, to what she was staring at now. Long gone was the fellow who she had visited in the Maggot's Nest to inform him of his demotion to Second Division Eighth Seat, mere hours before his transfer to the Eighth Division. The aura around this arrangement was different.
This was deeply personal. A level of which he was not ready to share with her. Not yet, at least.
But he would share one thing.
"Shishio." Yoshinori replied calmly.
Thirteenth Division Headquarters, Ugendō Quarters Courtyard. Soul Society.
It wasn't uncommon for Shinigami to bounce from one Division to the next. In fact, it was quite normal. Different divisions had different personnel needs, and in an ever-fluctuating work field with needs that changed by the day in different parts of the world, it wasn't uncommon for Unseated Shinigami to find themselves shuffled from division to division. Even as one hit the Junior Officer levels, such fates only diminished slightly. Yet for Senior Officers it was a rarer occasion. Very much still a thing, but it was within this community of Shinigami that some particular fellows could very well find themselves nestled in the same space for centuries at a time, perhaps even for their entire careers. Yoshinori had never once considered the thought of remaining as someone's Third Seat without a change of scenery for centuries at a time. But then again, the way his career went, he was never afforded the luxury of being able to toy with the idea.
But this time was his choice. The audience with Captain Aritaka Shishio of the Thirteenth Division was his choice. A difficult choice, and one born from multiple meditation sessions and perhaps one too many smoking sessions in silence. But it was his choice. To Yoshinori, a Vice-Captain-ship was part of his vow to Hyakuji. Part one of their multi-step plan to eventually create a better Soul Society, and a harmonious world. But the Thirteenth Division, and the choice of Captain Shishio was part of his own personal journey. Yoshinori was damaged. No longer physically, but spiritually and mentally shot. Recent conflicts had broken past the man's tough exterior, and pierced his very soul. He found no joy in the hedonistic haven that was the Eighth Division. The parties, the drinking, the gambling. One time it held a safety net for the man, a place for him to hide away from his own insecurities. Now, to go through the motions of what were once highly sought after pleasures was now robotic obligation. It wasn't that he no longer wanted to serve Captain Kinizuru.
He couldn't serve Captain Kinizuru any longer.
He needed healing. A spiritual remedy for a malady that struck far deeper than an ailment of the flesh could ever accomplish. He never met the sickly Shishio before, but he had heard rumors of the Captain. A man counting his days, but possessing an appreciation for life, viewing it as sacred. A man who extends his kindness to all, no matter their position. The Thirteenth Division had never appealed to the silver haired Reaper before, but now...he needed an environment where he could begin to focus on himself. To steer his life on track.
To navigate his unexpected chapter in his life.
Tendrils of smoke wafting from his pipe, Yoshinori sat on his knees before the Captain's Quarters, his eyes closed as he awaited his audience. In reality, he half expected his Vice-Captain application to be rejected. Sure, he had helped defeat Valentina...but what would a man such as Shishio do with someone such as Yoshinori? A killer, a former assassin for the Onmitsukidō. The pair could be no more different. Yoshinori was a monster, and he acknowledged it. He was just waiting for everyone else to acknowledge it too.
Post Count: 1 | Momoshiro
One Week Prior, Yoshinori's Living Room, Soul Society. Yoshinori's House.
"You're transferring again, Yoshi? Why this time? I thought you liked Captain Kinizuru."
He could always trust Azula Hijikata to call him out on something. Choosing to visit Yoshinori on a random evening during his final few days of his temporary vacaion leave following the Hogyoku incident, the purple haired Shinigami had brought food as her "bribe" for Yoshinori to let her in. And let her in he did. After all, she was one of his oldest friends. One of his first friends after his entrance into the Shino Academy, the two of them were just children then, bound by a mutual respect for each other and an acknowledgement of each other's layers, the likes of which weren't so easily observable in their actions. Azula's confidence and perceptiveness complimented Yoshinori, but most of all she didn't judge him. She knew him before the jewels that hid away his uglier side. She knew of his past, back when it was raw and uncovered, yet still approached him. Even though their duties kept them from coming together as often as they would both like, Azula still found time every now and then to force her way back into Yoshinori's life. Thankfully, she didn't have to try too hard.
"I need a change of pace. It's nothing personal." The response was unusually subdued, at least when considering who he was talking to.
Azula pursued her lips, remaining silent for several seconds as she sipped her cup of tea. Yoshinori had prepared it for the both of them. Chamomile Tea, one of Yoshinori's favored types. Savoring the mild sweetness of the drink, the purple haired First Division officer closed her eyes for a period of three seconds before opening them once more, her eyes settling upon her dinner partner.
"It's not your fault. You don't have to blame yourself.
To Yoshinori, he felt as if it was his fault. He had violated his promise to Maria. While his actions had saved countless lives from untold levels of destruction, not to mention the dimensions as he knew it, he had contributed to ruining another's life. In the end, Valentina perished with hatred in her heart, bitter and angry at the world. And what had he done? Blindly opposed her, and turned a blind eye to the root of the problem. What made him any better than any of the Shinigami that he spent so much time ridiculing? Condemning. Weren't they also afflicted by the same blindness? The same apathy? It didn't do to simply wallow in regret after the fact. Regret doesn't fix Valentina's fate.
So, he had made a decision. Perhaps in time, he would be able to evaluate as to whether his newest chapter was worthwhile or not.
"Who will it be this time?" Azula asked, her tone gentle as she stared at her friend. He had entertained her as well as any host could, but she was no fool. She could sense the difference in the air, the shift in Yoshinori from what he was even several weeks ago, to what she was staring at now. Long gone was the fellow who she had visited in the Maggot's Nest to inform him of his demotion to Second Division Eighth Seat, mere hours before his transfer to the Eighth Division. The aura around this arrangement was different.
This was deeply personal. A level of which he was not ready to share with her. Not yet, at least.
But he would share one thing.
"Shishio." Yoshinori replied calmly.
Thirteenth Division Headquarters, Ugendō Quarters Courtyard. Soul Society.
It wasn't uncommon for Shinigami to bounce from one Division to the next. In fact, it was quite normal. Different divisions had different personnel needs, and in an ever-fluctuating work field with needs that changed by the day in different parts of the world, it wasn't uncommon for Unseated Shinigami to find themselves shuffled from division to division. Even as one hit the Junior Officer levels, such fates only diminished slightly. Yet for Senior Officers it was a rarer occasion. Very much still a thing, but it was within this community of Shinigami that some particular fellows could very well find themselves nestled in the same space for centuries at a time, perhaps even for their entire careers. Yoshinori had never once considered the thought of remaining as someone's Third Seat without a change of scenery for centuries at a time. But then again, the way his career went, he was never afforded the luxury of being able to toy with the idea.
But this time was his choice. The audience with Captain Aritaka Shishio of the Thirteenth Division was his choice. A difficult choice, and one born from multiple meditation sessions and perhaps one too many smoking sessions in silence. But it was his choice. To Yoshinori, a Vice-Captain-ship was part of his vow to Hyakuji. Part one of their multi-step plan to eventually create a better Soul Society, and a harmonious world. But the Thirteenth Division, and the choice of Captain Shishio was part of his own personal journey. Yoshinori was damaged. No longer physically, but spiritually and mentally shot. Recent conflicts had broken past the man's tough exterior, and pierced his very soul. He found no joy in the hedonistic haven that was the Eighth Division. The parties, the drinking, the gambling. One time it held a safety net for the man, a place for him to hide away from his own insecurities. Now, to go through the motions of what were once highly sought after pleasures was now robotic obligation. It wasn't that he no longer wanted to serve Captain Kinizuru.
He couldn't serve Captain Kinizuru any longer.
He needed healing. A spiritual remedy for a malady that struck far deeper than an ailment of the flesh could ever accomplish. He never met the sickly Shishio before, but he had heard rumors of the Captain. A man counting his days, but possessing an appreciation for life, viewing it as sacred. A man who extends his kindness to all, no matter their position. The Thirteenth Division had never appealed to the silver haired Reaper before, but now...he needed an environment where he could begin to focus on himself. To steer his life on track.
To navigate his unexpected chapter in his life.
Tendrils of smoke wafting from his pipe, Yoshinori sat on his knees before the Captain's Quarters, his eyes closed as he awaited his audience. In reality, he half expected his Vice-Captain application to be rejected. Sure, he had helped defeat Valentina...but what would a man such as Shishio do with someone such as Yoshinori? A killer, a former assassin for the Onmitsukidō. The pair could be no more different. Yoshinori was a monster, and he acknowledged it. He was just waiting for everyone else to acknowledge it too.
Post Count: 1 | Momoshiro
Last Edit: Jun 11, 2022 8:41:57 GMT -5 by Momoshiro
