FICLET - And all the king's men shall fall.
Player: Kyah
Subject: Shuyin re-learns the meaning and reasoning behind his plans for going to Soul Society.
Table: C
Prompt: 09. Objective
"You honestly thought you could defeat me. You disrespect yourself - your zanpakuto - for not even knowing its name."
The words echoed and burned into Shuyin like a searing brand upon his pride, leaving behind scars of retribution. How dare that man tell him he couldn't hold a sword properly, couldn't fight with it correctly, didn't know it at all. How dare he.
Shuyin had been a soldier, a warrior for Zanarkand. Surely that meant something. He had fought in battles during the war, slipped through Bevelle's defenses, gotten past all the obstacles in order to reach Vegnagun. Even after his death, he still remembered the ways of war, the cruelties, the harshness. He'd been imprisoned the past millenia, but he had never forgotten the skills he had learned during that time. If anything, he had honed on them, practiced them, learned from them over the years.
So why did this bother him as much as it did? Why was he so angered by the mere fact of a captain who clearly could not see anything beyond the reach of his hands? It made no sense.
The spirit sighed, obviously aggravated at the current situation. Wrapped in bandages from the latest brutal injuries he'd received from Byakuya, the Fourth had learned quickly that Shuyin was one who questioned and often tested the Sixth's captain, of which never ended in a good result. He was there more often than he should be, the members of the squad now beginning to know his name just by seeing his face in there so often. They deemed he was much like the other newcomer, Kamina, who made just as many frequent visits, only that Shuyin's personality was much more serious. Both seemed to enjoy stressing the captain beyond what normal shinigami would press against him. Perhaps it was because they came from a different place, supposedly, that caused them to rebel and speak out against the eldest Kuchiki. Regardless, it kept the Fourth busy, and they were always curious to learn about these newcomers, seeing as they did not come from Soul Society originally.
He could still hear Byakuya's cold tone, mocking him over and over and over, saying he didn't know his sword at all. His sword didn't have a name, it never did. Why did his captain insist in such foolishness? If his sword had a name, he would've learned it long ago, wouldn't he?
The spirit was restless, he could feel the question nag and pick away at him like a dog gnawing on a bone. He didn't understand; how exactly was the name of his sword supposed to make him a better fighter? Did something so simple unlock unnatural abilities? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. It was through training and honing the body that this could be achieved, not by childishly naming one's possessions.
The day passed, uneventfully, and Shuyin could only lay on his side, as the wounds he received hadn't fully healed, and were still tender to the touch. The moonlight from the window left shadows on the wall, making things harder to see. He stared across the room, eyes lazily moving from the worn edges of his white yukata, to the silent blue blade sitting a few feet away. For a moment he gave up denying the ridiculous and shifted himself to face it, eyes focusing on the cool darkness found within the hard metal of the sword.
"Your name..." He muttered, waiting. "Tell me your name."
There was no answer. Silence. This irritated him, his voice rising a little. Why wouldn't it answer?
"If you are my sword, tell me your name."
Again, no answer. Only the sounds of footsteps approaching his room came to his ears. Angrily, he placed his head in his hands, frustrated that this supposed connection wasn't working.
"...Shuyin-san?" The spirit turned his head, to notice a young teenage boy peering in, carrying with him a small bundle of supplies to change the soldier's bandages. He was gentle, quiet, and didn't speak much outside of his visits, but his eyes were always excited to see the older spirit, and ask him more about Spira and what life was like there. Oftentimes he would talk about Lenne, and what she was like, and the boy always asked questions about her.
Shuyin quietly let the boy readjust the bandages, replacing them, and applying pressure where it was needed. It was a minute or so before the silence was broken. "You were trying to talk to it, weren't you? Your zanpakuto."
The spirit let out a small sound of surprise, but then nodded, his voice still carrying hints of anger. "Yes. I still have not heard anything come from it."
"Maybe you're just trying too hard." Came the answer, and his eyes wandered behind him, to notice the boy had finished his work already. Putting the supplies away, he brought out his own sword, a simple blade with no special quirks about it.
"That's yours, then?" The boy nodded. "What does it call itself?"
"Ginsei no tsubasa. Wings of silver."
Shuyin let that sit with him for a moment. The boy already knew what his zanpakuto was named, and he made it look easy. So why couldn't he do it? Why was the soldier having so much trouble with it?
"I see."
The boy grinned again, before actually raising his hand and pointing at Shuyin's head. "Stop thinking here," and he lowered his hand to his heart, "and start talking through here. That's how I do it." Then turning, the boy left, taking the supplies with him, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Talk with my heart? Of all the things- It seemed utterly absurd, not to mention sappy and horrendously weak. Talking with his heart was ridiculous, not to mention something he would never do. To do that would be almost opening a floodgate of anger and pain. As if he didn't suffer enough already, through Byakuya and being kept alive for a milennia, even after he died. Everyone had betrayed him and Lenne, he had no reason to truly use his heart other than to be bitter and hate everything. They all deserved to die for what they did to him, to Lenne, to Spira.
"Well now, and here I had though you were beginning to get soft, master."
Shuyin nearly jumped at the voice, his eyes darting to and fro, looking for the source of the sound. Nothing. No one was there. "Oh come now, you try so hard, and then forget already? Tsk tsk, and here I thought you'd recognize me so easily." The voice was playful, cold, and daunting. Not like his own, but not something unfamiliar, either. Another second rolled by, and it clicked.
Rising from his place and walking forward, he glanced down towards his blade again. "So, you really do exist." The sentence was more rhetoric than anything else, and the voice chuckled right back at him.
"Oh, of course, master. It might've taken you a long time to hear me-" At this, the voice halted, but what happened next caught the soldier by slight surprise. A set of skeletal fingers touched his neck, sending chills down his spine, and he felt someone breathe right by his ear. "But I have always been here. Waiting for you to recognize my voice."
He didn't move, he didn't jump in fear. Somehow... this felt... right. Like it belonged there, the touch reminding him of why he didn't struggle when he was soul buried by Byakuya. Closing his eyes, he smirked, slowly turning and opening his eyes once more to notice the newcomer. He had removed himself from being behind Shuyin, and was now crouched on all fours on the bed, face hidden behind a mischievous laughing kitsune mask, draped in royal robes and head tilted curiously towards the spirit. Like a dog, almost, but he sensed the person here was much smarter than that. Almost sly, like a fox.
"More than just a fox, master. I can say that, at least." The creature chuckled, removing the mask and grinning slyly from ear to ear. He was a man who looked no older than his mid twenties, eyes red as blood, long silver hair that was kept up like a noble's from Edo-era Tokyo would be. The spectacles he wore were only more of a disguise, and the other masks he had on the sides of his head clinked whenever he moved to speak, despite the fact that they looked like paper until he touched them. "You're not surprised to see me, are you? Scared?" The grin he had didn't fade- in fact, it turned a bit darker and more insane.
"No, not at all." Shuyin was grinning back now, one of his grins that showed he was malicious underneath all the layers he hid behind. "You're more than I could ever have imagined."
"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, master, you should know this. After all, I resemble what you feel the most in your heart." With that, the smile vanished, a more serious look on the zanpakuto's face. Not one of stern seriousness, but one of neutrality.
"Of course, I'm not surprised. So, what do you call yourself?"
Only a grin and more laughter filled the air as a reply at first. It sparked Shuyin's desire to begin to look into his old plans once again. "My name..." The zanpakuto slipped off the bed and crouched low, looking up at Shuyin like a cornered and frightened animal, though his face was full of sadistic glee. He moved forward, circling the soldier, but Shuyin didn't move. He felt the bones of his zanpakuto's hand trace along the back of his neck, but he didn't flinch. "...is Nigami, and-" Out of the corner of his eye, Shuyin saw the zanpakuto take one of his masks and place it on his face, his overall appearance suddenly changing and becoming the exact image of his lover. Lenne.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe. There she was, standing before him, smiling, like she always did. She ran one of her hands through his hair, down his face, and it caused Shuyin to almost jolt in shock and shake in desire. "Will you claim your vengeance for me?" The words were said with her voice, her smile, just like she always sounded. Even though it was a lie, it was believable, and it tangled and sprung the coils of darkness within his heart again. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, he wanted to hold her, to see her, to feel her once more. Bevelle was a fool to take her from him, to attack Zanarkand in the first place, to start this war. He was bitter, his anger returning and reminding him of why he was here. Of why he had so willingly left his world to come to this one.
All of Spira would pay. Everyone would die. He would make it so. And after that? He would fade away, to find Lenne, and finally be at peace after so long.
Nigami removed the mask, his normal form reappearing once again. The grin had returned and his red eyes came to meet his master's, much like a mischievous child acting out a prank of his. Nigami was loyal to him until the very end, he had no reason to betray him or use him to his own advantage, either. But sometimes his master needed a little push in the right direction in order to get started.
"So, master..." The words were sly and cold, yet still questioning and curious. "When shall we begin?"
There was no answer for a moment or so, Shuyin staring out at the moon from his window. The turmoil and frustration and everything was sparking the old self that he once was, when he had originally come here. Finally, he slightly turned, his eyes coming back to meet his zanpakuto's, their maliciousness and hatred still vividly seen within.
"Seek out my vengeance, Nigami."
And in the dark, that sly fox grin only grew wider.
Subject: Shuyin re-learns the meaning and reasoning behind his plans for going to Soul Society.
Table: C
Prompt: 09. Objective
"You honestly thought you could defeat me. You disrespect yourself - your zanpakuto - for not even knowing its name."
The words echoed and burned into Shuyin like a searing brand upon his pride, leaving behind scars of retribution. How dare that man tell him he couldn't hold a sword properly, couldn't fight with it correctly, didn't know it at all. How dare he.
Shuyin had been a soldier, a warrior for Zanarkand. Surely that meant something. He had fought in battles during the war, slipped through Bevelle's defenses, gotten past all the obstacles in order to reach Vegnagun. Even after his death, he still remembered the ways of war, the cruelties, the harshness. He'd been imprisoned the past millenia, but he had never forgotten the skills he had learned during that time. If anything, he had honed on them, practiced them, learned from them over the years.
So why did this bother him as much as it did? Why was he so angered by the mere fact of a captain who clearly could not see anything beyond the reach of his hands? It made no sense.
The spirit sighed, obviously aggravated at the current situation. Wrapped in bandages from the latest brutal injuries he'd received from Byakuya, the Fourth had learned quickly that Shuyin was one who questioned and often tested the Sixth's captain, of which never ended in a good result. He was there more often than he should be, the members of the squad now beginning to know his name just by seeing his face in there so often. They deemed he was much like the other newcomer, Kamina, who made just as many frequent visits, only that Shuyin's personality was much more serious. Both seemed to enjoy stressing the captain beyond what normal shinigami would press against him. Perhaps it was because they came from a different place, supposedly, that caused them to rebel and speak out against the eldest Kuchiki. Regardless, it kept the Fourth busy, and they were always curious to learn about these newcomers, seeing as they did not come from Soul Society originally.
He could still hear Byakuya's cold tone, mocking him over and over and over, saying he didn't know his sword at all. His sword didn't have a name, it never did. Why did his captain insist in such foolishness? If his sword had a name, he would've learned it long ago, wouldn't he?
The spirit was restless, he could feel the question nag and pick away at him like a dog gnawing on a bone. He didn't understand; how exactly was the name of his sword supposed to make him a better fighter? Did something so simple unlock unnatural abilities? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. It was through training and honing the body that this could be achieved, not by childishly naming one's possessions.
The day passed, uneventfully, and Shuyin could only lay on his side, as the wounds he received hadn't fully healed, and were still tender to the touch. The moonlight from the window left shadows on the wall, making things harder to see. He stared across the room, eyes lazily moving from the worn edges of his white yukata, to the silent blue blade sitting a few feet away. For a moment he gave up denying the ridiculous and shifted himself to face it, eyes focusing on the cool darkness found within the hard metal of the sword.
"Your name..." He muttered, waiting. "Tell me your name."
There was no answer. Silence. This irritated him, his voice rising a little. Why wouldn't it answer?
"If you are my sword, tell me your name."
Again, no answer. Only the sounds of footsteps approaching his room came to his ears. Angrily, he placed his head in his hands, frustrated that this supposed connection wasn't working.
"...Shuyin-san?" The spirit turned his head, to notice a young teenage boy peering in, carrying with him a small bundle of supplies to change the soldier's bandages. He was gentle, quiet, and didn't speak much outside of his visits, but his eyes were always excited to see the older spirit, and ask him more about Spira and what life was like there. Oftentimes he would talk about Lenne, and what she was like, and the boy always asked questions about her.
Shuyin quietly let the boy readjust the bandages, replacing them, and applying pressure where it was needed. It was a minute or so before the silence was broken. "You were trying to talk to it, weren't you? Your zanpakuto."
The spirit let out a small sound of surprise, but then nodded, his voice still carrying hints of anger. "Yes. I still have not heard anything come from it."
"Maybe you're just trying too hard." Came the answer, and his eyes wandered behind him, to notice the boy had finished his work already. Putting the supplies away, he brought out his own sword, a simple blade with no special quirks about it.
"That's yours, then?" The boy nodded. "What does it call itself?"
"Ginsei no tsubasa. Wings of silver."
Shuyin let that sit with him for a moment. The boy already knew what his zanpakuto was named, and he made it look easy. So why couldn't he do it? Why was the soldier having so much trouble with it?
"I see."
The boy grinned again, before actually raising his hand and pointing at Shuyin's head. "Stop thinking here," and he lowered his hand to his heart, "and start talking through here. That's how I do it." Then turning, the boy left, taking the supplies with him, quietly shutting the door behind him.
Talk with my heart? Of all the things- It seemed utterly absurd, not to mention sappy and horrendously weak. Talking with his heart was ridiculous, not to mention something he would never do. To do that would be almost opening a floodgate of anger and pain. As if he didn't suffer enough already, through Byakuya and being kept alive for a milennia, even after he died. Everyone had betrayed him and Lenne, he had no reason to truly use his heart other than to be bitter and hate everything. They all deserved to die for what they did to him, to Lenne, to Spira.
"Well now, and here I had though you were beginning to get soft, master."
Shuyin nearly jumped at the voice, his eyes darting to and fro, looking for the source of the sound. Nothing. No one was there. "Oh come now, you try so hard, and then forget already? Tsk tsk, and here I thought you'd recognize me so easily." The voice was playful, cold, and daunting. Not like his own, but not something unfamiliar, either. Another second rolled by, and it clicked.
Rising from his place and walking forward, he glanced down towards his blade again. "So, you really do exist." The sentence was more rhetoric than anything else, and the voice chuckled right back at him.
"Oh, of course, master. It might've taken you a long time to hear me-" At this, the voice halted, but what happened next caught the soldier by slight surprise. A set of skeletal fingers touched his neck, sending chills down his spine, and he felt someone breathe right by his ear. "But I have always been here. Waiting for you to recognize my voice."
He didn't move, he didn't jump in fear. Somehow... this felt... right. Like it belonged there, the touch reminding him of why he didn't struggle when he was soul buried by Byakuya. Closing his eyes, he smirked, slowly turning and opening his eyes once more to notice the newcomer. He had removed himself from being behind Shuyin, and was now crouched on all fours on the bed, face hidden behind a mischievous laughing kitsune mask, draped in royal robes and head tilted curiously towards the spirit. Like a dog, almost, but he sensed the person here was much smarter than that. Almost sly, like a fox.
"More than just a fox, master. I can say that, at least." The creature chuckled, removing the mask and grinning slyly from ear to ear. He was a man who looked no older than his mid twenties, eyes red as blood, long silver hair that was kept up like a noble's from Edo-era Tokyo would be. The spectacles he wore were only more of a disguise, and the other masks he had on the sides of his head clinked whenever he moved to speak, despite the fact that they looked like paper until he touched them. "You're not surprised to see me, are you? Scared?" The grin he had didn't fade- in fact, it turned a bit darker and more insane.
"No, not at all." Shuyin was grinning back now, one of his grins that showed he was malicious underneath all the layers he hid behind. "You're more than I could ever have imagined."
"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, master, you should know this. After all, I resemble what you feel the most in your heart." With that, the smile vanished, a more serious look on the zanpakuto's face. Not one of stern seriousness, but one of neutrality.
"Of course, I'm not surprised. So, what do you call yourself?"
Only a grin and more laughter filled the air as a reply at first. It sparked Shuyin's desire to begin to look into his old plans once again. "My name..." The zanpakuto slipped off the bed and crouched low, looking up at Shuyin like a cornered and frightened animal, though his face was full of sadistic glee. He moved forward, circling the soldier, but Shuyin didn't move. He felt the bones of his zanpakuto's hand trace along the back of his neck, but he didn't flinch. "...is Nigami, and-" Out of the corner of his eye, Shuyin saw the zanpakuto take one of his masks and place it on his face, his overall appearance suddenly changing and becoming the exact image of his lover. Lenne.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe. There she was, standing before him, smiling, like she always did. She ran one of her hands through his hair, down his face, and it caused Shuyin to almost jolt in shock and shake in desire. "Will you claim your vengeance for me?" The words were said with her voice, her smile, just like she always sounded. Even though it was a lie, it was believable, and it tangled and sprung the coils of darkness within his heart again. He wanted nothing more than to be with her, he wanted to hold her, to see her, to feel her once more. Bevelle was a fool to take her from him, to attack Zanarkand in the first place, to start this war. He was bitter, his anger returning and reminding him of why he was here. Of why he had so willingly left his world to come to this one.
All of Spira would pay. Everyone would die. He would make it so. And after that? He would fade away, to find Lenne, and finally be at peace after so long.
Nigami removed the mask, his normal form reappearing once again. The grin had returned and his red eyes came to meet his master's, much like a mischievous child acting out a prank of his. Nigami was loyal to him until the very end, he had no reason to betray him or use him to his own advantage, either. But sometimes his master needed a little push in the right direction in order to get started.
"So, master..." The words were sly and cold, yet still questioning and curious. "When shall we begin?"
There was no answer for a moment or so, Shuyin staring out at the moon from his window. The turmoil and frustration and everything was sparking the old self that he once was, when he had originally come here. Finally, he slightly turned, his eyes coming back to meet his zanpakuto's, their maliciousness and hatred still vividly seen within.
"Seek out my vengeance, Nigami."
And in the dark, that sly fox grin only grew wider.