Bleach Hereafter RPG

"I'm glad to hear I won't be imposing much on sensibilities then." Itsuki said with all playful politeness and a pleasant smile. Outside, the last of the water sloughing free came as pure water trickling from leaf to leaf, escaping into the layers of drainage atop the soil.
    From the side Hibano had entered from there was storage space for coats, shoes and even some fresh tabi with a small polite notice encouraging visitors to take them. The room had a tatami floor and a tokonoma, in which dwelled a knee-height white pine bonsai and a hanging scroll from the most recent chaji, some company motto or another that the junior monks had failed to change out and a small, frehsly lit incense burner slowly filling the room with the scent of sandalwood.
    Already swift to work, Itsuki had somehow procured a steaming fresh cup of roasted barley tea for the impromptu guest and set it down upon the table in the centre of the room. The room itself was a 4.5 mat setup, the half-mat atop a hearth currently in need of repair in the centre of the room. The other four were arranged around it in circular fashion. The table itself was varnished darkwood, two circles joined at the middle with said middle positioned over the closed hearth. The attending monk offered an appropriate welcoming bow and turned to the mizuya. There upon the shelves of various utensils and appliances he reached for a switch in the side of the wall, an inelegant thunk of pipes under the floor coming to life to hear the venue. "Pretend you didn't hear that."
    In case Hibano was about to attempt any attempt at following the prestige ordered seating, Itsuki beckoned him closer, sliding a two-stack of bento boxes out from the lowest shelf and across the tatami to the side of the table. From there he rose up, sliding the door closed behind Hibano with an audible clack and taking his place on the server's side of the table.
    "Yes, Fullbringer. I believe my Professor said something about that term. And what about yourself?" Itsuki wrung his hands together through a small towel, offering up a smaller for his guest to do the same and a larger to sit upon. If not taken, Itsuki would set them down on the non-bento side of the table. Following this, he opened up the bento boxes. Ridiculous in proportion they seemed to be those 1kg ones that were popular lately. A square panda's face rendered from rice and dried seaweed, cheeks studded with blushing cherry tomatoes and surrounded by side dishes filled the top portion of the box. Depending how avid an eater Hibano was, he might even reach the secret second layer of white rice beneath the panda and side dishes if he really hurried. Hibano's was pushed a little closer by the monk, a pair of black fibreglass chopsticks provided. Admittedly they were a little weightier than one might expect from bamboo but it afforded more intricate designs inlaid upon them and more longevity.
    Offering the guest ample time to choose to begin eating and possibly answer their question Itsuki set about obon temae. Tea bowl, whisk, tea scoop, tea towel and two plain black tea caddies were set out atop the table appropriately. Internally, he judged himself for going straight to an easier thin tea preparation, doing his best to conceal it from showing in his expression. The adrenaline had at last begun to settle, worn away in the familiar ritual. Setting the teapot in a standing brazier, he turned a dial concealed on the host's side of the contraption. In reality, it was a fancy electric hot plate to prevent accidents. It even had an orange LED indicator to provide the appropriate illusion. Itsuki paused a moment longer as the LED came on, hesitation slightly curling a finger as the almost molten coloured glow reflected along his arm. He blinked, severing the thought and turned his smile up to the guest, plying his frozen shut eye with the small hand towel.
    "If I may, how is it you came across one of those weapons if not for being a Shinigami yourself? It was my limited understanding they are, essentially, military-issue weapons."
    Fake or not, the warmth slowly filling the room was beginning to thaw him out.
    Normally against such things but measuring it as due compensation, Itsuki set away the tea bowl and instead provided a black lacquered tabako bon inlaid with golden flowers, setting the small box with matching pipe atop it in the tea bowl's place for the guest's easy access. Out came two plain black cushions, comfortable for seiza with more of a typical type of pillow stacked where the bento boxes once were in case Hibano took to wanting to lean or incline in a more relaxed fashion.
    For a few moments, listening intently to the guest's response if any, the hosting monk took to his own meal with a small cup of hot water occasionally sipped at to aid digestion and his chilled insides. Thankfully this wasn't something rushed out at a store, these bento may have been hopping on a trend but were largely prepared here at the temple for the monks and the homeless. Love and care had gone into each serving, every bite a small delight for a weary body. Then again, maybe he was simply hungry and tired. Slow and quaint, a handful of minutes rolled by.
    As he stared at the steaming spout of the teapot between the two, Itsuki's brow furrowed. Lips pursed thin, a small shake of his head came. Raindrops slipped free of his clumped hair, painting bloody trails down the breast of his ruined robes. "I don't know what to do, really. I hope you don't mind if I share a little of my thoughts? The last few people I've met involved with all of this didn't really stick around." Cracks rang naked in the voice of the man staring intently at the kettle threatening to whistle.

Itsuki provided not only tea - to Hibano's light surprise, he even offered the teen a bento box, a large one, a whole kilogram of rice and seaweed in the shape of a smiling panda. After the intense fight with the dragons next to the temple, he was indeed famished, but he did not want to test the monk's patience by also asking for a meal. They were supposed to be ascetics, were they not, and they would presumably need to restore the area around the temple to cover the scars of the battle.

Hibano also just didn't really enjoy begging people for one thing or another, it simply did not resonate well with him.

"Oh, I'm a Fullbringer, like you!" he answered the monk's question after his suspicions were proven correct, with a warm smile - then briefly bowed in thanks for the bento box. "Thank you very much!"

Whether it was fortunate or not, Hibano ate a lot, and not in the most collected and restrained manner either. It was only natural for someone as physically active as him to have a large appetite, but even taking that into account he ate more and faster than average. It did not take long for him to get through the initial layer of rice and get to the secondary dishes below the panda.

While he was in the middle of... plowing through his meal, Itsuki asked again. This time, he was interested in the sword which Hibano used to fight during the battle - he correctly recognized it as a Shinigami's weapon and was interested how a mortal like himself got a hold of this weapon. The Shinigami which Hibano had encountered some time ago asked him the same question, but their conversation ended rather... poorly.

The teenager gulped and raised his head from the bento box.

"It's a family heirloom," he answered. "You're right, for me to have a Shinigami weapon is a... one of a kind occurrence, and I'm not exactly certain where my family got it from. But I remember that we've inherited it over the generations."

Which... was not much of an answer, in retrospect. Perhaps it would be satisfying to Itsuki, but if not, Hibano did not really have much more to offer than this story. Hibano did not get to continue eating his bento box, as the monk had more thoughts to share with the fellow Fullbringer.

For one reason or another, which were still uncertain, he was feeling melancholic, and he wanted to share his thoughts with Hibano. That got him to briefly pause, surprised. They've only just met, after all, he was not sure what to expect of this confession. Still, it never hurt to help someone, physically or emotionally.

"Sure, what's on your mind?"

The monk itched at the faint shadow of stubble, his elbow finding the table. Gaze dissolving off into the distance beyond the scroll a soft sigh left him. The drip of his robes marked the quiet air for a moment, softly pitter-patting onto the towel covered cushion under him.
    Chopticks rested idle on his own bento on the floor. The bitter taste of medicine still clung to the back of his teeth. Somewhat misty-eyed, the hosting Fullbringer smiled from his face's perch atop his palm.
    A guilty conscience writhed in the meat of his mind again. Had this really been the commitment he intended when he decided to find out the truth and track down the killer? Suddenly now he was confronted with actually killing things it was turning his stomach.
    "I've never met another Fullbringer, that I know of. I'm glad."
    Hateful dragon's roar rattled about the recesses of his mind, eyes drifting down to the misted flecks of red upon the small towel he'd used to wipe himself down. What was it he really committed to, justice? Hate and vengeance were unbecoming of pious men, a little feeling told him.
    His eyes drifted across the guest and his accoutrement. He didn't exactly seem to be an evil man, Hibano helped him defend the shrine, kill a dragon, stay alive and he's a fullbringer too. Itsuki's chewed the corner of his lip, smile deflating as at last his amber gaze drew to Hibano's own eyes.
    "Have you seen a bear-faced Hollow?" Spilled the most vital of questions ahead of the crowd. It even surprised the monk a little, at first.
Itsuki cleared his throat and turned to the table, slipping his elbow free and drawing up his own pleasingly cartoonish and excessive meal into his grasp, experimentally clacking the tips of his chopsticks together. "I'm sorry if that was a little sudden. I'm struggling with this whole ... killing ... thing."

By the way Itsuki formatted his question, Hibano expected something rather more philosophical. He was a monk, after all, and he asked whether he could share some of his thoughts, an abstract enough statement that nonetheless leaned more towards contemplation than objective fact. Then... Itsuki asked whether he had ever seen a specific type of Hollow. A bear faced one.

"Huh?" Hibano asked, blinking a few times in confusion. "No, no I haven't." He hadn't even paid much attention to the shape and appearance of the Hollows that he did come across. Most of them were just black creatures with masks, which seem to be able to take all kinds of shapes, presumably depending on what kind of soul was tormented and corrupted into taking this ravenous animalistic shape. For one reason or another, this was a really important question to Itsuki, and he appeared confused at himself for blurting it out.

Apologizing for the sudden question, Itsuki continued by explaining that he was... "new to killing". That was, presumably, a hint to the importance of the bear shaped Hollow to the monk, and why asking this question was so challenging to his mind, however, Hibano could not put a finger on what was going on yet.

So, he asked bluntly.

"What are you talking about? I don't understand you."

Itsuki cleared his throat, thumbing his nose in some attempt to conceal himself reaching deep to steady his feelings. Now was hardly the time for an emotional outpouring. Still, he had no intention of not searching for some answers of some sort.
    "Thank you." Came his moderate reply, voice still clogged with the strain of the weight about his heart.
    The kettle whistled faintly, the priest clearing his throat again returning the water bowl to the table. Using a long, thin bamboo scoop to take a portion of matcha from the vessel behind him on a shelf an empty it into the bowl, a tip-tap of it upon the edge of the bright and colourful vessel ensured none was wasted before being returned to the tray. Delicately taking the iron pot's handle through a cloth in hand, Itsuki stirred the matcha with the appropriate whisk. If Hibano knew much about tea ceremonies he might have guessed the tray was electrically heated too to prepare said bamboo utensil for use.
After a few moments of only stirring disturbing the air, two cups depicting wildflowers in full bloom were set down and the tea poured between the two. Another, similarly sized box came, opened with a rustle of paper lining to unveil rice flour confectionaries each made in different shape and sizes with different depictions of winter's aesthetics and aspects. One might be indented with depiction of a snow flake, another an icile laden view from a frozen forest.
    "I've never killed anything before. My skin and bones ache but not as much as my heart weeps for what we've just done. Such wonderful things, living myths right here in the centre of Tokyo!" He shook his head again, adjusting his posture with a shuffle upon the pillow. "Rampaging so bitterly and the thing that seemed to be done was deprive them of their lives. Was that okay, was it right? They weren't animals or insects. The way that last one spoke, I could feel its-- their, their voice shaking me to the core. I can't help but wonder when the last time dragons spoke to humans might have even been."
    Out of sight, his hands fisted in the towel laid out beneath him. A deep breath came. "I can't help but think what will come to pass if I come face to face with a Quincy, another Shinigami. Could I...?" His voice trails off, failing as an uncalloused heart strains against potential futures laid out by his suffering soul. "Is that what this world I've been let into is, Hibano?" Eyes brimming with tears, filled with questions. He realises he's leaning up now, hands on the table. The small puddles of water forming are beginning to drip onto the floor. Shoulders tense, Itsuki's throat spasmed. Through the half-blubbered choke the breath he was holding hostage was set free. His posture faltered with the stammer of his chest against the next painful gasp of air, leading him back to his knees and his elbows down onto the edge of the table. Slow, his eyes fell from the guest, down beyond the tea set. So many pinpricks littered the backs of his hands, disappearing down his arm.
    Even his actions himself had been violence.

Right. He wasn't sure what mental lapse had briefly caught him, but it should have been obvious that Itsuki was referring to the creatures they killed outside of the temple minutes ago. The act of killing two dragons horrified the monk - as a man of faith, he was not supposed to take away any life, and the dragons were a bit more than just cattle. They were intelligent, and they could hold grudges. Was it right for them to take away their life in the battle.

For a few seconds after Itsuki's confession, Hibano stayed silent, and stared into the soothing waves of the tea in his cup, that sat in his hands. After considering how he himself would answer this dilemma, to himself, the Fullbringer sighed and answered:

"I understand how you feel."

Few people ever willingly wanted to end someone's life, even if that someone isn't a human, like them. Hibano's silver eyes raised to meet Itsuki's, and he watched the monk intently.

"It's difficult, and nobody would have to do what we did in a more just and peaceful world. But even when there's peace, the last thing someone should do is... refuse to stand up for themselves," he explained. "The Dragons were fighting each other and ravaging the land, they were putting a lot of people in danger. We had a right to stand up to them - you had a right to defend the temple, I had a right to stop them before anyone got hurt. And they could not take the hint, and if they were intelligent, but refused to explain themselves and attacked regardless... they bear the responsibility for what happened."

Hibano took a sip from his cup of tea.

"Besides... if they were so violent and destructive, then perhaps they were never the divinities you are thinking of in the first place."

At last the dripping had stopped. A dull thunk of a boiler sensing the room had reached temperature and shutting off reverberated through hidden pipes.
    Itsuki's own gaze had risen enough to sit neatly in the rising steam from the spout the kettle dissipating into the air. Hibano's words drew a gentle squint to his expression, corners of his lips straining as tension marred his cheeks with stress lines. The coarseness of his breathing, even at rest, rasped lightly in the air.
    "I can agree they may not have been divinities. I have no way of knowing now if they were truly beings of legend or simply descendents of those myths.." Croaked his parched voice. Up to his lips came the reassuring warmth clasped in his hands, a quiet sip of his own following the guest's. Clearing his throat against the exhaustion permeating him, a small weary sigh whispered out into the air, steaming hot. "Perhaps neither."
    Slight shifting shimmied him into a more comfortable position upon the pillow before the monk took another sip and began to speak aloud once more. "I hope nobody else got wrapped up in this mess. I can scarcely believe I was." At last, amber eyes rose from the tiny green oceans in their cups. "Tell me, does it usually end in death? Theirs or ours. I don't want to begin to imagine the world I've stepped into is one without such a simple virtue as mercy."

Hibano was presented with a difficult question. Taking the teen's ideas into consideration, Itsuki then asked him on how common such duels to the death were in their world - and since he expressed that he was talking about "the world he just stepped into", Hibano assumed that he meant the spiritual world. The world of Fullbringers, Shinigami and Hollows. He must have only recently discovered his abilities, then.

"I, uh- it's difficult to explain, but... I am probably the worst possible option in giving you an answer to this question. But..."

What would be the right answer to this question? Which side does he himself believe? It was something that was easier asked than answered. Hibano paused for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts and considering what to say. It would be easy to just be optimistic and state that battles to the death like these were a freak occurrence, but from his experience of the past, and only few months of his life that he remembered, it would be a lie to say so without heavy clarification.

So, he stated exactly that.

"I'd... be wrong if I said that this was something unnatural. Rare. That someone who goes around fighting Hollows and other forms of evil usually never experiences death. No, that's not how the world works," Hibano began, with a somewhat pessimistic tone. "...but, you know, we don't live in the violent state of nature. We live in cities, a civilization, let's call it that. And such things would never be possible if every conflict ended with violence and death. So... perhaps it's not just death and lack of mercy that awaits you in this world."

After that thought, Hibano drew attention to something else. "So, does this means you only unlocked your abilities not too long ago?"

Itsuki's downcast gaze, having raised to meet Hibano's silvery own, fled now to the ceiling to stare at the waking dream of a concealed sky beyond it. A slight contortion of his lips pressed into his features as this companion spoke. Even in the relaxing warmth, a cold feeling filled his insides as knuckles turned white, clasping the hem of his torn robes.
    "A little over a week ago." He spoke in hushed tone. His voice cracked with the aching burden of the sorrows spilling over from an over-full heart. Streaks of warmth painted his cheeks as shame overcame him. "As a priest, a modern living human, I'm not sure I can say I'm ready for the rule of nature." These first few tears, disturbed by the movement of his jaw dripped free to a slow little pitter-patter into his lap. "I'm not sure I can keep calling myself a man of the kami if I'm to deal death..." Each word drew his throat tighter and tenser, the upset clogging his throat until at last he yielded a muddied cough and took a rattling breath in.
    Using his mostly unruined sleeve, the bloodied shrine attendant rubbed harshly at his eyes with his forearm. Another chest-rattling splutter escaped before he rose from the crumpled fabric with a smile pushed up. Still, his cheeks were streaked with the glistening paths of fresh teardrops like so much rain. "I think, whatever your reasons, you're the perfect person to ask. You seem honest and not resigned to just ... throwing lives away. It's a little bit like a sign of hope." Despite the muted sadness of the voice saying these words, a mote of buoyant brightness marked that last part, ever so faintly. Whatever he was saying, it seemed he was serious.

Unable to hold back the emotions pent up in his head, Itsuki began crying, while stating that he had only discovered his powers only a week ago and he did not see himself ready to enter this world. In another situation, Hibano might even commend him, for holding so much strength as a beginner - he could do his part in the battle against the dragons, in spite of his lack of experience, after all. This was not the time for such remarks, however.

"You don't have to be so dramatic. I told you, there is more than just the state of nature in this world," Hibano answered Itsuki. "Nobody is telling you that you have to deal death. There is a certain nobility in resisting what the world tries to impose on you and you'd be far from the only one who vows to bring peace rather than destruction and violence to this world."

Simone told him that.

Hibano took a sip from his mug of tea. "Thanks for the compliments, I'm not sure I deserve them, but... the reason why I said that I'm one of the worst people to ask this question is that I... only remember a few months of my life. I'm far from being as acquainted with what this world is like than I... should be."

A choked laugh welled up, pushing through a tense throat, curling tear-stained lips up into a strange smile. Itsuki sniffled.
    "You sound like my father, speaking like that about things like feelings. Whatever the rule of the wild and the rule of man are, we're in the unique position of potentially being able to carry these things forward forever. I can only hope when the time comes to count up my sins I'm not found wanting." Said the monk, tone dour and darkened with bitter pangs of harsh regret.
    He plucked up a napkin from his side of the table and food, heaving up the gooey mess his misery had availed him of with a damp cough and clearing of his throat. A dab at his nose came and went before he discarded the crumpled 'tissue' into a bin with a deft toss.
    "I'm so sorry to hear that." Came the reflexive answer to the declaration of memories lost. For a moment he sat, sinking in the sludge of his feelings. His expression creased faintly against tumultuous winds twisting within, his internal world whirling at the thought of forgetting the reasons and stories that carved his way here. "If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know. Perhaps you have some questions about this all, the world, maybe some other gaps? I can't promise I can answer all of it but I can do my best." By the end of his sentence the rasping tension of his mucus strewn throat urged another cough upwards.
    Itsuki fought it best he could, lips and nose twitching in resistance. In quite the breach of expected decorum in this room of ceremony, the host snatched up and drained his mug with a diminuitive sigh of relief escaping. Slow-drying glistening rivers upon his cheeks caught the light as he hoisted up the teapot and poured out another pleasingly green measure of tea for himself before leaning the pot slightly towards Hibano in offering.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. It happened, so I am trying to recover my memories, and regain the knowledge of this world that I lost," Hibano explained, then accepted the pot of tea handed towards him by Itsuki and poured a bit more tea into his cup. After the exhausting battle against the dragons and the cold of the pouring rain, the drink was really refreshing and he couldn't say no to more.

Itsuki offered his aid to the young Fullbringer - any questions about the world to whom he can provide his answers. For a few moments, Hibano paused, merely staring at the monk and weighing his choices. He did not want to involve someone in his ventures, and the dangers that came with them. His quest to free his mother's soul from his body was supposed to be his and his alone, and the worst thing that could happen was him placing an innocent person in danger because of that quest.

But... just some questions couldn't hurt.

After a sip from his cup of tea, Hibano answered:

"I'll... be able to handle the loss of my memory by myself, but... if you want to help, there's one thing... Do you happen to know anything about the Hogyoku?"

"In truth, I can't say I've heard of it." Itsuki began, weaving around Hibano's outreach to refill his cup as a proper host should. He had to maintain at least some illusions of proper decorum in such a room as this or face the Baldyhead's wrath come the conclusion of their session.
Besides, there was something pleasing about the sound of fresh-ish tea being poured. "I'd be happy to help you however I can with it, though. Is it something important? If so, I am acquainted with a specialist in all matters spiritual. He may be able to tell me more about it, maybe even where this Hogyoku thing is."
    Beneath the pleasent guise of politeness pushed back up, his own anxious heart still quivered. Some burgeoning notion os kinship kindled itself in the kindness of the 'newborn' mind before him. At last someone seemed to be as ignorant as he was about these otherworldly matters, more or less.
    The thin veneer of a collected self stood painfully transparent. Still, cheeks glistened. Perhaps it was for the best then that they stood as a component of an earnest expression, brows knitted halfway between thought and concern for the plight of such dire straits.
    Setting the kettle down at last back upon the dimly awake heating element obscured within the vessel, Itsuki weighed his heart against feathers.
    A suppressed sniffle preceded a firm pat and squeeze upon the visitor's arm, as close to a hug as he could afford to restrain himself without flinging his arms around Hibano in sympathy for his situation.