[BSD-RP] The Valley of Screams
- Thread starter Shinigami
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Shinigami
Administrator
Acting as chief executives, and overseeing entire squads, Captains were responsible for ensuring that order was maintained among their ranks, concocting effective tactics, and forming general policies or division guidelines to aid in the fulfillment of their division’s day-to-day tasks. They would lead by example, inspiring others to serve them without hesitance. Spearheading their division, they were required to possess a heightened capacity for battle, oozing with such power that defending their title was usually an effortless chore. Those who were less competent would‘ve been knocked off, deemed failures, as they fell in social standing. The Golden boy had given thought to these relevant ideas, leading up to his test.
An azure streak of light emanated along the cerulean sky, lengthening as to unveil a fleeting glimpse of it’s vastness, only to be replaced by extensive, patterned gates, which harbored a certain, willful shinigami. What the unlatching, skidding gates uncovered was a hundred and thirty three pounds of perseverance, preceding the surrounding, cerise space. The young shinigami, who was suspended in the sky, had emerged with his chin held high; his earnest cyan eyes scoured the Valley of Screams in search of any signs of life, while his unbending confidence permeated far and wide, expressed through the medium of spiritual pressure, enveloping the atmosphere. Having been called upon in order to demonstrate his skills and talents before a captain of Gotei 13, so that he in turn could prove himself worthy of manifesting a haori of his own, Jatiri Yabuki of the 9th division took a nosedive, clapping against the mountainous terrain below. When the resulting smoke cleared, Jatiri, styling his usual, jagged uniform, situated upon a massive boulder, clasping his hands behind his back. His thunderous entry had been blatant enough that it couldn’t have gone unnoticed.
By incorporating his vigilant gaze, he’d hoped to decipher every minuscule, unseen detail encompassing him, leaving nothing to chance. This would’ve encouraged a great aptitude to foresee events, reducing the likelihood of being caught off guard. The spiraling reaitsu that coated his person, triggered his ponytail to gyrate; his sapphire pressure rocketed to astronomical heights, pulverizing the boulder beneath his feet, inducing wide-spread craters and fissures that swept across the perimeter. Securing miles of ground, his indomitable influence was ever-present, threatening anyone who was bold enough to step to him. Illustrating a fraction of his power, the little giant insisted on conveying his desire to uphold a captain’s mantle in all its glory. Whether the odds were in his favor or not, he understood what must be done.
The young boy relieved himself of almost every ounce of tension in his mind through the use of one of his greatest assets, optimism. He made little to no assumptions on his opponent, opting to hone in on encouraging thoughts, believing that he would be able to recognize his adversary’s traits and patterns when the time came. Rather than posing all kinds of obstacles in his head, he preferred to emphasize relaxation. A decision like this was rooted in countless experiences, brawling against a wide-array of killers, where he found success in tranquility.
Jatiri identified the captain who was responsible for administering his test as Itsuki Asakura of the seventh division. He had no prior knowledge on the man, aside from being a captain. This title would’ve suggested that he must’ve possessed exceptional power and combative skill; although, Jatiri would have to investigate this in the midsts of battle in order to narrow down Itsuki’s skill set. Reminding himself to ease up, and enjoy the upcoming duel was all the young one could do, while awaiting The Bloodhound.
Shinigami
Administrator
It started once more-- the gears of this stagnant world once again abuzz with the promise of excitement Itsuki thought as he sat in his office, a barren space with nothing more than a long folding table & a three cheap folding chairs. Itsuki looked upon the unopened scroll clad in the colors and crest of the First Division that rest on the table-- obviously understanding without opening that it was a summons to fulfill his own duties. The Captain found a fond smile bubbled to the surface of his face as he reminisced the first time receiving this scroll… so long ago.
Code:
“THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME, KOJIMA-TAICHOU!”Itsuki had no time to dawdle, and while he’d love to wander around the Rukongai sniffing out any mystery drawn his way, they called the infamous Bloodhound to honor the duties of his own haori. As he rose from his own chair, one just as cheap and invaluable as the others, the Captain quickly patted himself down; Glasses? Check. Itobeni? Check. Haori? Check. Itsuki was as ready as he’d ever been & swiftly pivoted upon his waraji clad foot & made way for the door. He was heading to the Fifth Division, intent on using their permanent Senkaimon as a means to travel to the Valley of Screams… Today was surely shaping up to be a delightful adventure of untold excitement! Itsuki could feel his muscles throb & blast hotly with anticipation as his own warrior spirit began to sputter from embers to a flame.
Suddenly tens of miles from where Jatiri had nose-dived into the face of the Valley… from where the Ninth Division member began flexing his own presence like some bodybuilder on the catwalk… a Senkaimon had appeared. In the same moment the signature Shoji doors appeared they swung open and from their depths came a creature more terrifying than any monster from story books… It was the ginger giant… the Bloodhound of the Seventh; Asakura Itsuki had finally arrived.
Hm?
Itsuki could feel the swelling vigor of Jatiri as soon as he’d trespassed this realm. He did not quell his own pressure? Was he flexing to flex or perhaps… Did the examinee take the time they had here alone before Itsuki arrived to booby-trap the Valley? Itsuki, being the borderline paranoid tactician he is, always reduced his own presence; and today would be no different.He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip as a sea of conspiracies rattled through his skull... what did his darling prey have in store for him? If Jatiri wished to saddle himself with the burden of a haori, then Itsuki would need to see how much straw this camel can handle before it breaks its own back.
“Weave the Heavens and the Earth together, Itobeni”
Itsuki coos as he draws the short blade of his Zanpaktou, and in that moment the steel glowed a deep rich blood red before no longer resembling steel in the slightest— in the wake of a blade a thick burgundy tuft of rope now bled from the handle of Itobeni, in the instance his Zanpaktou awakened it was gone from sight… clad silently in the sensory suppressing shroud of invisibility granted by the infamous Kyokkō. If Jatiri truly wanted to become a Captain he would need to be able to endure nightmarish abilities far grander than anything he's faced in the past, and today Itobeni would be the harbinger of Hell.
Within seconds, the invisible rope had expanded to epic proportions… upwards by one hundred yards and stretching at least a mile overhead; thin wry tendrils consumed the sky-line like a great red web, invisible to everyone but Itsuki. Every step he took the web moved with him... almost like an umbrella. Itsuki, unlike Jatiri, wasn’t one to peacock his throbbing force and instead for the moment would rather the Candidate be lulled into a sensation of overconfidence. At least before Itsuki adds on the pressure. The Bloodhound easily discovered the precise location of Jatiri through both his own ungodly sensory ability and detecting the Captain Candidates pressure pulsating against the shoddily constructed web of thread above. Itsuki leisurely strolled through the Valley of Screams, his arms relaxed and swaying with an almost giddy bounce; every action the Captain took from his lack of pressure to the way he walked intentional; while a man of apparent chaos, Itsuki was methodical & organized on layers beyond the average comprehension. As the Captain came into view of Jatiri he would boom with a burly caw that seemed to shake this otherwise eerily silent world.
“GOOOOOOOOOOOD DAY! ARE YA HERE FOR ‘DA CAPTAIN TEST?”
Jatiri would be able to see the Captain; a giant of a man clad in a well-kept Shihakusho and swaddled by the mockingly pure white of a Captain's haori emblazoned with the crest of the Seventh Division . The fiery haired giant smiled; his signature doggish grin almost disarmingly chilling, Itsuki as an undercover agent always found the best way to disguise emotion is to embrace it… twist it to his bidding and in this moment while he was genuinely happy, this warmth aflutter from his expression though was truthfully more akin to Itsuki’s bloodlust than his charity or obliviousness. Perhaps Jatiri would notice, but would he also notice that the Captain had carefully made sure not to step within the field of the Candidate’s influence? That he was avoiding stepping into area afflicted by the effects of Jatiri's tidal force whilst remaining close enough to be heard and seen? If Jatiri attempted to gander into the deep ocean of power that Itsuki has hidden away he’d sense… nothing. It was as if the Captain was no more than an afterimage, a grinning phantom haunting this realm. Itsuki was not one to be taken lightly nor someone to take others lightly; he is a man known for his processing... for his analyzing... and most of all for his adaptability. This is the man Jatiri is fighting; a killer willing to smile in the midst of slaughter, a genius profiler whose mission today was to profile... Jatiri. After giving Jatiri a moment to respond, the Captain began his own spiel. Nothing particularly enigmatic or haughty, simply a speech to explain the expectation moving forward.
“As ya know, this ain’t supposed to be no cakewalk. Da only rule? No killing. I’ma be seeing if ya got da mettle ta’ be one of us, so if ye wanna run home I ain’t gonna blame ya. Yer about to go through some wicked stuff just to wear this here haori.”
As Itsuki spoke he clucked his tongue, both his own keen sensory skill and the massive stringy sensory organ in the sky, vigilantly watching every action of Jatiri. Truthfully, Itsuki hopes that this Shinigami clad in a ruined uniform understands the gravity of the situation, while Itsuki’s peachy & often goofy southern drawl can create an air of comedic relief, he wanted to make sure the Shinigami testing understood… If he stays and doesn’t keep up with this square dance of death that this hungry beast will surely gobble him up and spit him out… after all many have risen to challenge the Bloodhound and just as many have found themselves husks haunted by his great but terrible force. Itsuki could only take this moment to ready his own stance and give Jatiri just a moment to weigh his options.
“Test start, show me yer moves!”
Itsuki shouted with his chest brazenly heaving forward as he suddenly… flicked toward Jatiri with his right hand; the hand that did not carry the bladeless Itobeni. If the Shinigami was unfamiliar with the Hakuda technique Oni Dekopin, perhaps this would serve as a warning shot… quit now if this intimidates you. Itsuki waited though, this warning shot was not so much as a freebie to give Jatiri the sense to resign from the test but to gauge his reaction time & allow Itsuki to analyze his thought process under intense scrutiny as a deep welt carved forward into the otherwise still earth of the Valley, his flick packed with enough force to uproot the soft dirt and easily send a man twice the size of Jatiri flying backwards like a mere ragdoll hundreds of feet.
A new saga has begun… the trial of Yabuki Jatiri… will he be devoured by the ravenous Captain Asakura or will this soldier rise to every challenge & use this as a stepping stone towards his own epic legacy? Itsuki smiled… excited to find out.
Shinigami
Administrator
Coaxing reaitsu came easy to the enigmatic one, requiring little effort on his part. Reveling in his own hazardous, spiritual pressure, there was no question that Jatiri had worked to epitomize this surging, spherical field that embraced him as its one true source. What he exemplified was nothing short of a monstrosity, towering for all the world to see. While his masterful control gave him the license to muzzle this brutalizing extension of himself, he had no intention of concealing his power, and masquerading as some lesser fiend. At present, he decided to emit his behemoth force far and wide, so that a certain someone could identify him. Moreover, giving a taste of spiritual pressure like so, would’ve surely filled their head with a few ideas concerning Jatiri’s overarching objective. One might even wonder why a shinigami who was notorious for being “mysterious” was so comfortable with exposing his reserves. On the flip side, this was part of what made him mysterious; he never stuck to a set script for long, if at all. For this reason, he held up as some unpredictable assailant, who was difficult to understand. This changeable quality served him in many instances, and it would serve him today as well. Establishing his spiritual pressure early on might even prove to delude his opponent in the long run. Captain or not, luring Itsuki Asakura, Jatiri hoped to kick off this fated clash that would live on for years to come.
Pursuing Itsuki long before he’d set eyes on him, his keen sensitivity to roaming vibrations assisted him in scoping the man out. Having sifted through the subtle vibrations that the man’s bodily motions produced, The Golden Boy became privy to the proctor’s existence within the Valley of Screams. He felt his adversary’s pulsating heart, his circulating blood, his cycle of breaths as his diaphragm contracted and relaxed, as well as his various, other, contracting muscles. Furthermore, Itsuki’s extensive, wiry tendrils piqued Jatiri’s curiosity; he didn’t know what to make of them. Although these expansive threads pinged the boy, there was no sign of spiritual energy, radiating from their constitution, nor Itsuki’s for that matter. If this was indeed an act of suppression, what would this shinigami be hiding? Some formal weapon; a Zanpakuto perhaps? While he wasn’t a hundred percent certain, the boy chose to capitalize on his suspicion, as to avoid being blindsided. Palming either hilt of the dual sais that were strapped to his waist, he uttered:
”Tremor, Fukitsumyaku”
With that, the dual crystalline Zanpakutos, Fukitsumyaku, reconfigured around his arms, furnishing glistening, silver sheets along his flesh, before vanishing, having vibrated to the point of invisibility. Aiming to determine his opponent’s aptitude to perceive these undisclosed weapons of his, he eyed Itsuki, who emerged before him. The Titan of a man was a sight to see, standing nearly a foot taller than Jatiri. His menacing expression almost devilish while retaining a child-like playfulness in his grin. Where Itsuki made an effort to smile, Jatiri’s face remained void of emotion. By the looks of the young one’s intense gaze, his unwavering focus was apparent. The attentive shinigiami refused to belittle the captain without proper motivation. In the same breath, he wouldn’t allow the captain to outclass him. If he must match Itsuki to prove his own fortitude, then so be it. When Itsuki finally made his appearance, the prior suspicion that Jatiri held over the man, concerning an enshrouded object, had been confirmed. Itsuki was definitely cloaking something rather large, almost confining; Jatiri could sense this much, even gauging his own distance in relation to this massive, unseen construct, as it shifted about. Wise to the tension in Itsuki’s left arm, Jatiri took a mental note of the existence of some blotted out object, cradled in the man’s clutch. A trickster, he concluded, judging the man at face value.
“GOOOOOOOOOOOD DAY! ARE YA HERE FOR ‘DA CAPTAIN TEST?”
Jatiri continued to inspect the man, nodding in response to his question, though he had nothing more to add. He wasn’t very talkative, preferring to let his actions do the talking. He’d always been this way, silently observing others, and picking up on their subtle cues. As a consequence, he learned to distinguish those who were skilled at masking their true intentions in order to manipulate others, obtaining their desired outcomes; over the years, he familiarized himself with many of these deceptive types. In fact, he was one of them. Whether or not his own deception ran as deep as those who were profoundly methodical in every minuscule action that they took, he wore a mask of his own; this fact was irrefutable. Outwitting the cunning hellhounds back home, he recognized just how careful they could be; how they waited for the right moment to effectively snuff out their opponents. So, when he looked upon the giant who bore the pearly haori, and considered the fact that the man’s impulse was to conceal his potential skyscraper of a weapon, Jatiri declared him a tactician.
Settled upon the fringes of Jatiri’s globular reiatsu which enveloped a couple of miles of land, Itsuki must’ve been cognizant of the dangers that his spiritual pressure posed —even to those among the captain-class. Though shrouded, Jatiri didn’t doubt that the captain boasted an impressive pool of power himself, suggesting otherwise would’ve been delusional. It was only a matter of time before he divulged this power. Of course, If Jatiri pressed him in this moment, he might persuade the man to unleash his well of energy sooner, as to resist the compressing effect of his reiatsu. Keeping this in mind, the boy remained motionless.
“As ya know, this ain’t supposed to be no cakewalk. Da only rule? No killing. I’ma be seeing if ya got da mettle ta’ be one of us, so if ye wanna run home I ain’t gonna blame ya. Yer about to go through some wicked stuff just to wear this here haori.”
Jatiri, scanning the man’s lips in order to decipher his speech, angled himself off as a response to his words; the left side of his body led the charge with his hands positioned in front of his head. Jatiri didn’t spend his time honing his skills, and studying as much as he did, just to turn back now. On this day, in this brewing battle, he represented far more than himself; he acted as a beacon for all the ones who came before him that were unable to dream. The ghosts of his past who dwell the slums, poor, starved, and disregarded. Those who were forced to acquire combative skills to fend off the lurking fiends. Those who simply wanted more out of life. Thus, his mind was made from the jump. He would serve as a catalyst to inspire the less fortunate. He would not be denied this opportunity.
”Heh, me? Run home? Not a chance.”
His monotone words echoed for the beast to hear.
”Test start, show me yer moves!”
The captain went to work. Utilizing his right hand, he executed a simple, flicking action with his fingers. As he did so, Jatiri, attentive to Itsuki’s subtle advances, recognized the forceful hakuda technique, Oni Dekopin, since it was also part of his own arsenal. Channeling a formidable, piercing wave of vibrations from a covert Fukitsumyaku, the boy’s swift, left fist jolted outwards, returning as though it had never departed; the resulting efflux of kinetic force hinted at some perplexing maneuver; one which would’ve been nearly impossible to discern, due to its terrific speed. Meeting midway between the two shinigami, the opposing forces sculpted gaping crevices along the mountainous floor before colliding and extinguishing one another. A raging gust of wind followed, mirroring an explosive shove which reflected across the surrounding territory. Bending at the knees, Jatiri sunk his weight into the ground as to better root himself, stepping back with his rear leg. Waiting for the wind to pass, he squinted at the distant beast.
’No doubt, this guy’s pretty strong; so far, It appears he likes his distance. I should do something about that.’
Shuffling his feet, Jatiri’s composition obscured, distorting all together. Reappearing in front of the bloodhound in a jiffy, maintaining his guard, his frame twisted and turned ever so slightly, engaging his hips. If the rapid, shoulder flicks hadn’t clued Itsuki in, he might've missed the fact that Jatiri’s arms had been fully extending, crowding Itsuki's liver, kidney, and solar plexus in a near simultaneous fashion, though the boy's one true target was the man's liver. Would Itsuki catch wind of the sole, dynamite blow, that outpaced the hissing noise that Jatiri made when firing off, or would these brisk flurry of punches deceive him? Aside from the punches, breaching Itsuki’s locality would’ve subjected him to a wringing effect, placing his body under enormous stress; only time would tell whether the captain would hold up.
Shinigami
Administrator
Itsuki wasn’t impressed. It was a sacred rite of passage to stand in this wretched primordial world and challenge a Captain; and yet the Captain had yet to find anything particularly incredible about the contestant. Even without seeing his opponent’s Zanpaktou he could feel it — after all Jatiri made no attempt to suppress the power that naturally radiates from a Zanpaktou he only used its ability to conceal the physical appearance. The Captain clucked his tongue disappointedly as he began his infamous greeting. While he rambled on Itsuki took the time to show Jatiri how to better seize an opportunity. The concealed threads of Itobeni explored the area; dozen of strings swaying lazily around the Captain while others bled from the titanic spool down unto the world below— no thicker than piano wire, these threads sway absentmindedly between both Shinigami and even around them. Itobeni from above sought to devour below; one hundred yards in all directions groped & intimately explored by the red whiskers of the Captain’s Zanpaktou.
“HAAAH?!”
Itsuki reacted to the sudden spur of movements that lent to Jatiri avoiding the hapless Hakuda he threw Jatiri’s way; his jaw dropping in almost cartoonish awe as he played the fool he so often does, his hairless brow rose and lent to the exaggerated expression, but still if Jatiri could glimpse into the vacant stare of Itsuki he would see a chilling apathy—Again he wasn’t impressed. The Captain even without Itobeni could track these minute movements, and while he could reason that perhaps a lesser man may fall privy to these parlor tricks. Itsuki wasn’t that man. At the moment that Jatiri attempted to twist & flicker out of existence, it would become ever more apparent… The difference between their tactic… Perhaps even the difference between their experience..? Jatiri could train a million years but could he ever hold a candle to Itsuki? To the other Captains? This was something the Investigator turned Proctor had to surely ascertain.
“I’s hope he ain’t ‘bout to regret this here match”
Itsuki thought to himself as the dozens of threads that swam lovingly in the air splintered with its iconic suddenness. Within the same moment that Itsuki felt the Candidate begin to move from their location would be the same moment that the threads had rearranged themselves; using the unique manipulation of this Kido clad rope, Jatiri would find himself about to launch into a sea of invisible thread. Positioned in the likeness to the infrared lasers of security grids used in the World of the Living, the thousands of threads formed a bizarre sphereical barrier between the two—surely Jatiri with his herculean hearing would be able to “hear” the unique sound of this jigsaw puzzle infesting the surrounding air. Itsuki had arranged the threads between the two Shinigami to have massive gaps in certain spots, gaps that easily welcomed bobbing & weaving, and though he hoped Jatiri wouldn’t attempt to merely bulldoze through, Itsuki took precautions. Ever the conspiracist, Itsuki had immediately shifted the weight of the strings.... If Jatiri attempted to sprint through this construct, it would involve speeding through a labyrinth of needle thin wire with a density of over a ton. Even Itsuki himself wouldn't move much, feeling the heavy touch of Itobeni that was no more than an inch from his own flesh, and yet it only helped nurture his excitement as he planned ahead in his mind— with the wonder and awe of a child he thought of countless moves Jatiri could make, and was interested what assortment of abilities Jatiri's mysterious Zanpaktou could bring to the table. So much to learn... So much to investigate... So little time...
“I reckon its time yer ass met da’ grass. Kakakakakaka.”
Itsuki hooted and hollered with a deep guttural cackle. The apparent Golden Boy launched into the frenzied maze of thread that spun and wove into a mile wide omnidirectional radius, however though now Itsuki focused on his next attack. Soon Jatiri would find that the hundreds of strands of Itobeni that danced behind his rocketing figure began… hungrily lashing at the Shinigami. The Captain programmed the thousands of threads that licked and lapped at the tail end of Jatiri with Itsuki’s own unique variation of the Senmaioroshi. If the Candidate were to look back they would see the very earth itself cut and reduced to muddied ruin, deep but razor thin scars running across the lonely Valley’s face. Itsuki bit his lip in a moment of deep primal excitement, his blood hot and heavy with a blossoming desire to maim & torture throbbing in his chest. The Bloodhound could not indulge his killer instinct — and while he intended to slice through Jatiri like a knife through butter, he kept a watchful eye on both his sickening need to butcher & his darling little prey’s well-being. Itsuki genuinely hoped that the Jatiri could somehow elude the gaping threaded labyrinth before him whilst simultaneously avoiding the filleting force of his threads from behind that easily stretched & followed him wherever he so journeyed towards. Except one direction… down. If Jatiri burrowed into the earth like a mole, Itobeni would not follow. Itsuki was perhaps too doting; giving a means of avoiding his wrath was a definite symptom of his teacherly nature. The slew of emotions that weighed heavily on Itsuki was truly a disease; to both crush them into the dirt like an insect and tend to them like a budding rose.
Itsuki grimaced, a deranged expression of flustered desire & even possibly amusement bubbling across his goonish features, he was confident that the Shinigami would at least make a lovely ragdoll. Though as sure as Itsuki was that Jatiri wouldn’t let him down, his own paranoia raked & rattled through his fast-paced mind. A mile a minute his thoughts crashed through him, he was analyzing every fiber of information on Jatiri & the world around them that the sensitive ropy appendages of Itobeni could feel. It was an intense storm of mind-buckling emotions; but Itsuki begun to retreat into a more apathetic rationale, keeping at bay his irrational desires. Again and again he reminded himself to lead this horse to water, but again and again he wanted to advise him… He wanted to break him. This conflict surely was the bane of his dichotomous nature; to be both fatherly and sadistic in the same breath.
.
“To wear a haori one must walk through the Valley of Screams… To wear a haori one must endure nightmares…. To wear a haori one must… prove themselves.”
Itsuki muttered almost like a mantra. His voice was suddenly stern and monotonous; it was unlike Itsuki to be so serious, but he realized that now was not the time to indulge himself; today was about Jatiri, and so with a unsettling swiftness everything that made the Captain's faux personality eccentric was... switched off . He shoved everything… His desires, his empathy, and every sick little emotion… into a tight little hole in the back of his mind and sealed it shut. If Jatiri survived this first trial… Itsuki would reward him with a cruel yet beautiful fate; to be tested until both his body & mind breaks.