Skills and Abilities: For as irrelevant as Kyura’s upbringing was where it concerned the Shigaisen clan’s logging business, it did prove indispensable in one key area: Kyura’s swinging technique. Beyond utilizing everything in her shoulders and below, her experience with the handaxe has allowed for the application of her entire upper body—and even her whole body, on occasion—whenever appropriate in her attacks. This not only adds to the strength of her blows, whether blade- or Reiatsu-based, but can make her exact movements rather difficult to read to the unprepared.
Zanpakuto Name:
Shakunetsu no Daikuzui (“Scorching Deluge”)
Zanpakuto Appearance: Shakunetsu in its sealed state takes the form of a standard katana, but with a few notable aspects. The hilt is wrapped in a traditional array of navy blue and aquamarine cloth, though the butt and a sliver adjacent to the crossguard reveal its bronze-colored metallic composition. The blade itself is a pale silver from tip to base, while the crossguard itself features Shakunetsu’s most striking characteristic: six protrusions, all bearing the likeness of aged whale teeth, point up towards the sword’s tip as if the blade is protruding from a sort of mouth. These same tooth-like peculiarities rest over the sword’s sheath when stowed away. Said sheath is of note as well; colored a steel blue, it depicts etches of crashing waves in a traditional Japanese style that are painted a bright white. The Zanpakuto is always tucked into the left hip of Kyura’s standard-issue obi sash.
Zanpakuto Spirit:
Shakunetsu no Daikuzui as he initially appeared to Kyura bore a strong likeness to an Isonade, a shark-like beast of traditional Japanese folklore known for its elusiveness and speed. Lined with spikes down his back, outer fins, and atop his brows, his gargantuan form reached over fifty feet (15.24 meters) in height and spanned nearly eighty feet (24.38 meters) from nose to tail-fins. Beyond proportions, he featured fins from the middle of his back and on the outsides of both front legs, spikes of increasing size traveling up said front legs and down his spine, and two malleable, white, horn-like appendages that grew for approximately five feet from the outer corners of his eyes. His skin coloration resembled a shark’s as well, with pale blue, leathery skin contrasted by a white underbelly; however, much of that pale blue was adorned with glossy white “tattoos” resembling fire and a variety of indigenous Japanese markings.
In his present humanoid form which manifested following his transition to Zanpakuto, Shakunetsu’s cosmetic appearance changes considerably; the hue of his skin shifts to a blue-purple and grows marginally more saturated, but his “horns” and spikes disappear. His leg-fins, shark tail, and “tattoos” remain, however. Beyond this and his newly-bipedal stance that reaches an impressive 7’4” (223.52 cm), he gains a head of thick and curled bone-white hair; similarly-colored sideburns and eyebrows that resemble ocean waves; an overbite exposing two large, pointed teeth; and a pair of appropriately-placed gills. His outfit, meanwhile, consists of a slate gray and deep purple kimono tied by a deep purple sash, a pair of white traditional Japanese sandals, and a deep purple hooded coat that he lets hang from his shoulders.
Personality-wise, Shakunetsu is most noticeably quite passionate about Kyura—not in what he says, but in the forcefulness he brings to how he says things; he relays a sureness that could convince some of the most ardent skeptics. In this way, he could be thought of as a stern father or grandfather, being that steady platform upon which Shigaisen can steady herself in times of indecisiveness or heavy emotion. Yet he is often selfish for herself and Kyura as well, generally holding below-average opinions of those around Shigaisen. Moments of indecision on Shigaisen’s part have only been pronounced on more than one occasion because of this, given Kyura’s positive outlook on those in her Division and the rest of the Gotei 13.
Inner World:
Kyura’s inner world is set during dusk within a lake-sized hot spring. Said spring is located at the base of a steep-faced volcano thousands of feet in height, its silhouette looming but partially obscured by a thick layer of fog that extends from the spring to about ten feet into the air. Near the center of the hot spring is an island shaped like a crescent moon that grows what can only be called smoldering grass—each blade possesses a small flame synonymous with a candle-light. Amongst the burning turf stands a wooden cottage, modeled after an ancient Japanese home, that occupies half the island’s available space. It is this island that Kyura always finds herself when traveling to her World; her first arrival within it also involved her first meeting with her eventual Zanpakuto, Shakunetsu no Daikuzui.
Release Phrase: “Scald, Shakunetsu.”
Shikai:
Upon speaking the release command, Kyura’s sword is rapidly engulfed by a vortex of boiling water circulating tight around the weapon. Once fully enshrouded, she must bring her other hand up and “pull” the length of water apart; the resulting spray from such a movement reforms itself into a pair of elegant, bladed tonfas, with each section she’d been holding being formed into leather-padded grips perpendicular to the outward-facing blades.
These weapons measure out at four feet (~1.22 meters) from tip to tip, with each grip located about two-thirds down their respective blades; this creates “shorter” sections that extend for about a foot (0.3 meters) beyond Kyura’s hands, as well as “longer” sections that run beyond her elbows for about another two feet (0.61 meters).
Shikai Special Ability:
Shimeri ("Humidity") - With the activation of her Shikai, Kyura gains access to manipulation of not only the heat within the air’s moisture, but the volume and location of moisture. This effect can do anything from making the air feel a bit balmy and sultry to pushing Kyura’s adversaries towards overheating and heat-stroke, to even forming enough droplets in the air to have her enemies drown from the water accumulation in their lungs. All of these effects, however, are limited by Shimeri's maximum fifteen-foot (4.57 meter) area of influence, a restraint that has grown from its original five-foot (1.52 meter) maximum through training and growing her Zanpakuto-based powers.
Within the 15-foot/4.57-meter area of effect, the natural behavior of the air's moisture remains unchanged--it still condenses when cooled, carries other particles/micro-organisms, etc.--but Kyura, as explained above, is able to manipulate those behaviors to serve her needs via an aural "attachment" between the water particles and her spiritual energy. For example, over the course of one to two minutes of an opponent's continuous presence within the area of influence, Kyura can utilize that vapor to slowly fill the lungs of that opponent with moisture that she condenses into liquid water. The foe at first feels nothing, as not enough moisture/water has collected for their body to react. However, as more moisture gathers and condenses into liquid water, the foe will start to feel an itching in their chest that gradually shifts into a burning-like sensation. From there, the adversary would find it more and more difficult to take full breaths until, assuming they still have not left the AOE, their lungs are flooded and air no longer flows through their body. Unless measures by another party are taken to remove the water--up to and including Kyura extracting it herself--the foe will die.
At any time, if this foe exits the area of influence while being dry-suffocated, they need only cough to remove the water from their lungs.
Personal Relationships:
Likes:
Spicy foods; classic rock from the WotL; making wood trinkets for others (except for people she outright dislikes, and all others still need to ask); collecting antique books from the WotL that are passed around/otherwise find themselves in the 6th division
Dislikes:
Overly sweet foods; individuals who cannot be self-accountable; doing absolutely nothing for more than fifteen minutes (she times/estimates it however she can); inappropriate immaturity; dancing and singing
Hobbies:
Reading, wood-carving, watching wildlife documentaries from the WotL (particularly about cute animals)
Favorite Food(s):
Kare Raisu w/ spicy curry sauce and fried pork strips; Vegetable Tempura (especially zucchini slices) w/ teriyaki sauce
Biography:
Kyura was born as the only child of Sorushi and Kiyuri Shigaisen in East Rukongai’s 23rd District, the result of the latter finding difficulty in carrying fetuses to maturity. Nevertheless, from the moment her crying form entered Soul Society, a substantial portion of her existence was all but predetermined; she and Sorushi, among hundreds of others in the family tree, are direct descendants of Dosei Misuta Shigaisen, the late progenitor of the clan responsible for the creation of Shigaisen Lumber and Woodworks. Utilizing his experience as a low-seated Officer of the 7th Division and trusted friend of the Oki Clan’s progenitor, he was not only able to obtain significant growth early on, but his principled approach and their priceless bond had led to the Oki ancestor naming the Shigaisen clan a Vassal of their own. Such humble beginnings and the principles Dosei abided by therein shaped Kyura’s early childhood, all practiced and taught by her parents; conscientiousness imparted by thorough cleanliness and organization, respect for others by habitualized manners, and moderation to balance the demands of life with rest and play. Indeed, though Kyura would consider Sorushi and Kiyuri to be on the stricter side, they were still fair—doing their best to prepare their daughter for her future in the family enterprise while trying not to compromise her childhood innocence.
For the most part, Kyura’s parents had succeeded. Kyura proved to be headstrong and self-determined throughout her younger years. She can still remember it: never afraid of leading an entourage of the other kids in her Ward through a “deadly” area by their standards—typically a river of decent berth, or a particularly dark but harmless forest. She was by no means fearless, but for the sake of duty (and, of course, to show one up on her comrades), she persevered through everything her childhood mind saw as a challenge. Nevertheless, her occasional obstination did not detract from her potential in the family business; as she aged into adolescence, she showed an adept eye for detail and a high degree of studiousness in the fields of finance and operation, both skills she applied to the business by assisting her accountant mother and supply chain father whenever needed. This dedication of Kyura’s did result in a few debates and arguments over certain calculations and projections, however—arguments that, on occasion, spilled over and scorched the fringes of their familial relationship, leaving it difficult for the trio to speak to each other for the day’s remainder. The bonds she shared with her friends in the area fared little better; the frequency of hangouts and happenings shrank in startling proportions with her growing roles in the family business, to the point where her circle shrank to only those closest few. Yet despite the challenges, the family figured that by her early 170s, Kyura would be well on her way towards occupying an official and permanent position within the higher echelons of Shigaisen Lumber and Woodworks.
~~~
The first encounter was a blindsiding one. At first, it was no different from any other dream; Kyura had awoken upon a bed of trimmed grass, a quilt of misty fog masking a bespangled night sky. Sitting up, the silhouette of a traditional Japanese cottage stared back at her. Boiling water brushed onto her fingers, though after gazing out to the expansive lake surrounding her, she realized that not one digit so much as tingled. Past the blue-gray expanse, the blackness of a monolithic mountain could just be made out beyond the mist. Kyura had risen to her feet as she took it all in.
Yet it still didn’t feel right. There were no whimsical sensations, no capacity for omnipotence like in any other dreamscape. She felt at home, but out of place. Then the voice flooded both mind and ear—yet neither so much as rang.
“At last, you have arrived.”
The baritone voice shuddered Kyura’s surroundings, and as she squinted beyond the haze, she could make out a titanic, shark-like creature snaking through the air around and around the mountain. Wasn’t that there the first time she looked?
“What…what’s going on?! Who are you? What is this place?!” Kyura shouted. But the voice did not seem interested in her questioning.
”Your passion has finally produced its fruit. I’m gratified. However, now is not the right moment to converse.”
“But—“
The water spelunked behind Kyura. Glancing for the sound’s culprit, however, revealed a set of radial ripples and nothing more.
”Drink from the lake, and you will return to the world you know. We will be able to speak soon enough. Before you leave, though, heed me well: do not indulge yourself into your parent’s wants any longer. None of it is appropriate—not for you.”
“Huh…? What’re you talking about? What makes you think I’d listen to a word you’re saying?” Kyura said, a glare of offense settling into her face. No response.
“Answer me! Or—“
”Why do you hesitate? As I said, we will not speak now. Drink!”
As the voice bellowed, a rush of heat simultaneously overwhelming and comforting washed over Kyura that was nearly as fast as the water that splashed up and soaked her. Her vision was blind to the liquid, and for a moment, instinct reigned Queen over her erupting panic. She thrashed about, trying to gasp, but her throat was filled with freshwater in an instant. All she could do was swallow.
Kyura’s eyes flicked open in a fever pitch. The silence of her modest bedroom surrounded her—alongside a cloud of humidity that coated her in a filmic blend of vapor and sweat. Her heart threatened to break the bars of her ribcage; calm down, she needed to calm down. It was only a strange dream, she said to herself.
Even as its pace slowed and the vapor began lifting away, her heart could still detect the lie she’d just told. She did her best not to pay attention despite a scolding sensation at the back of her head.
This first encounter was only the first of several in the following year. Each instance was much the same; she awoke on that island surrounded by that lake at the base of that mountain and blanketed by that fog—which, curiously, seemed a little bit thinner with each visit—before speaking with that shark creature as it flew around and around. The humidity spikes after awakening continued as well, though they too changed following each visit; by the fourth or fifth encounter, the air was moisturized enough to form clouds and soak into every surface once its temperatures decreased. Nevertheless, she sauntered on with her life, learning more and more about every aspect of Shigaisen Lumber and of the different worlds in general.
Every stressful situation has a silver lining, however. Although the creature refused to provide her with a name and remained unable to hear her in each of their meetings, she came to fully understand the fact that she had the makings of a Shinigami within the first few. The signs were all there: the dreamscape was her Inner World, the creature her potential Zanpakuto, and the humid after-effects a product of her Reiatsu. She knew all of this, yet she did not let a peep of these experiences find their way to her parents. There was no telling how they—and the rest of the clan, by extension—would take it. The business would never stop expanding, and with their workforce only including those with blood or direct marital relation to the family, they needed all hands on deck. Not to mention, of all the members of the clan tree, only a handful had ever developed enough spiritual energy to feasibly become Shinigami (though no one opted for it), and none had exhibited phenomena like she had since Dosei’s spirit manifested during his time at Shin’o.
“What…steam? It’s hot! Kyura—what’s going on?! Yuri, come here!”
Grogginess pulled against her eyelids as they lifted to the sound of Sorushi’s fright. It had occurred again, about thirteen months after the first. The same environment, the same conversations that always produced more questions than answers, the same outpouring of humidity after the fact. Sitting up, however, the brevity behind her father’s presence only then revealed itself: her secret was actively billowing out of her room as a cloud of dense mist. She could see nothing, and in her half-awake state, she balked.
“It-It’s nothing to worry about, dad!” Kyura responded as she stumbled to her feet. The mist found no effect upon her, but she paid the fact no mind. “I’m here!”
Kyura burst from the blooming vapor and into the hallway, coming face-to-face with her parents. The adrenaline rush had bestowed alertness against the stupor in her eyes, enough to blow them wide open and absorb the verdict on her secret.
Indeed, on Sorushi and Kiyuri’s faces was shock—blended with differing degrees of bewilderment and dawning awe. They rushed forward at once and pulled Kyura in for a hug.
A full hour had passed before the trio could fully dip into the contents of what had occurred. They had moved to their estate’s ornate living room, a cup of green tea before each of them. If anything, Kyura assuaged, the drink’s calming effects would help reduce the chance of an argument. Locking eyes with them told a different narrative: while not disappointed or detesting, they were unabashedly conflicted on the implications of what they’d just seen, evident by the grimaces both were wearing.
Sorushi scanned her features with a scrutiny only fathers could demonstrate.
“You’ve gotten the energy of a Shinigami,” Sorushi started. “I could feel it in the air, beyond the humidity. How long has this been going on, Ky?”
Kyura stared at her reflection in her tea. Heat swirled up from the liquid, obscuring her image somewhat.
“Thirteen months.”
She laid out everything as neatly as she could after that—the Inner World and its environment, the spirit that inhabited that World, and the advice it doled out with each meeting. She was never able to respond, merely listen and consider. It had led her down the proverbial rabbit hole, she explained, to the point where a career as a Shinigami made the most sense. Her parents remained still as she spoke, their initial expressions frozen in place, and neither responded until she exhausted all that she experienced and understood. Their tea sat unconsumed and cold.
“Well, honey…wow, I’m not sure what to say exactly,” Kiyuri admitted. “I never thought there’d be another one of us so clearly capable of becoming a Shinigami, and it’s
you, no less. I’m just…what should we do?”
Kiyuri lowered her head and pondered for a moment. Sorushi glanced at his wife, sprouted a small grin, and rested a hand upon hers. While she looked to her husband, he turned back to Kyura, a momentous response loaded upon his tongue as father and daughter locked eyes.
“It’s true that this is unprecedented, and that we weren’t exactly planning for it. In fact, to tell the truth, part of me wants to deny that this is even happening. You know how much stock we’ve put into raising you well, and it’s not like you’ve gone on many adventures before!” Sorushi chuckled.
“But reality is immutable; my own two eyes know what they saw. That’s why the answer for what we should do is clear–” Sorushi said as he laid a tender hand upon Kyura’s shoulder– “Ky, the best decision would be for you to go to the Shin’o Academy. Go there and take that entrance exam. If you don’t manage to get in the first time, take it however many times you need until you do. And when you do, study all you can–both from the instructors and from those around you, and that includes your cohorts once you eventually join a Division. Train all you can so you can master that power of yours. Then you can be like Old Man Dosei and use all that knowledge to help all of us prosper!”
Kyura’s eyes had progressively widened until they seemed ready to bulge from her sockets. Her trepidations were no more, washed away by her father’s vitalizing blessing. Her mouth quivered without prompt, and her vision was blurred with the mist of tears–before she slid in and wrapped Sorushi into an airtight hug.
“Thanks, Dad…and Mom?” Kyura glanced at Kiyuri with her head still on Sorushi’s shoulder. Yuri looked on with an approving, if slightly resigned expression.
“You know I’ll be worried all the time; it’s what I do as your mother. But your father is right on all fronts, Kyura. That power of yours would just end up becoming a liability for us if we kept you here. I’d like to make one request for you, though: it would benefit all of us if you made further connections with Honoka Oki and other nobles involved in Shinigami affairs. If that means joining Oki’s Division when your training is finished, then go for it, but I won’t try to force you; you’re mature and capable enough to know where you could best slot in, I’m sure.”
Kiyuri pulled both her hands into her lap. A new confidence, wispy like steam, rolled off her form, and like many a mother before, that all-too-familiar pride swelled her heavy heart. Kyura, blinking the tears away, gleamed and pulled her mother by the forearm into the embrace.
“I’ll make sure to do that, Mom. I’m relieved, I didn’t think you guys would be this receptive.” Kyura detached from the group embrace and returned to her seat, resolution brimming from her very pores. Rising beyond a tree-line impregnable, the dawn’s sun casted its first rays upon a family reformed.
~~~
The weeks surrounding that initial entrance exam were some of the most sauntering for Kyura. Preparing could only soothe by so much, and it certainly did not help that she possessed no experience with the sword. Nevertheless, with a mere few weeks separating the family’s decision and the upcoming round of Shin’o exams, Kyura had made her tearful farewells and set off for the Academy.
In Kyura’s own view, there was not much to say about the exam. She performed how she expected she would—she was only saved from complete dismissal in swordsmanship due to her application of wood-cutting techniques, and though her spiritual pressure was higher than most other test-takers, she struggled to formulate even the most basic of Kido. The disappointing performance in her eyes was made all the more shocking, however, when the proctors notified her of her passing and registration into the Academy as a member of Class Three. She was to begin the start of the following week.
But as Kyura stepped into her living quarters for the first time, the sour sting of recognition undeserved persisted on her tongue.
“Hi!”
Kyura would have glossed over the greeting were it not for its piping pitch—and the hushed hum of an electric machine that accompanied it. Behind a simple wooden desk at the far end of the dormitory sat a young woman of roughly Kyura’s age-appearance. A pleasant smile stretched her smooth, dainty features until dimples indented themselves, but that was not what Shigaisen noticed first. Her eyes were drawn further towards what looked to be a sewing machine, colored lavender and rather small in size. The roommate had several dark-skinned fingers on a piece of bright yellow fabric that sat awaiting a final stretch of thread; evidently, Kyura had interrupted.
The fact wrought a grimace out of Kyura that she carried as she looked back to her apparent roommate. Her hair complimented her small features in spades, its short frizziness complemented by a low ponytail that wrapped around her left and down her upper torso. Peculiarly, classes were not starting until the next day, yet she sat wearing the full Shin’o uniform.
“Uh, hi there. Sorry if you were focusing on that,” Kyura said, motioning to the yellow fabric. The woman giggled and expanded her smile as Kyura stepped fully inside, slid the door shut behind her, and strode for her half of the room.
“Don’t worry about it! To be real, I’m just trying to occupy myself. There’s not much to do besides talking to other students or getting to know the teachers, and we’ll be doing that anyways once classes start.” She lifted her fingers from the machine. “And that all can begin by chit-chatting with you. So, the name’s Higure Harito. Who’re you?”
Kyura pulled an armful of undergarments and socks out and let it all drop into a dresser drawer. “Kyura Shigaisen.”
She shut the drawer, but upon looking back to Higure, she raised an eyebrow. The woman was staring at her, visibly taken aback.
“Shigaisen? Like, of Shigaisen the family company?”
“Yes?”
“Wow…color me intrigued. I didn’t think any of your family had any inclinations towards becoming Shinigami, no offense. It’s an honor to meet you.”
Kyura felt her face swelter. She averted her gaze. “That’s really not necessary. We’re just doing what we’ve always been. And as for me, I’m here to learn about my power and bring it under control.”
“Really?” A glint of understanding and a touch of sympathy entered Higure’s face. “Well, good luck with that. Maybe in the future, we could help each other out. Work out each others’ weaknesses, you know?”
“That would probably help. If we can find the time.”
Higeru snickered. “Trust me, unless you’re gonna work yourself to the bone, we’ll be able to.”
As she finished laying out her things to be put away, Kyura wondered how much exhaustion it would take to see her own bones.
~~~
The days turned into weeks, which turned into months. Kyura was, in no uncertain terms, relentless throughout: always the earliest to arrive in classes and one of the most willing to learn and experience her instructors’ wisdom, she picked up anything and everything she could that approached her as interesting or useful. However, as those months turned into her first two years, the Academy had realized its functional purpose; utilizing Jinzen to communicate with her Spirit, though still nameless, she gained a sizable bundle of insights. She would never attain a great deal of physical strength, but she was decisive and perceptive to innovation. She still could not shake her workaholicism, but it was no matter, she assured herself; she could realize her aspirations, her family’s aspirations. In these ways, Kyura figured, her focus should shift—away from all-around goodness and towards specialized excellence. Thus, following several spiritual conversations, she had settled the debate: Hoho and Zanjutsu were her calling. The ladder loomed from her spot a few rungs from the very bottom, but she was to dig into the next four years without quarrel—or forever regret her own cowardice.
Every moment prior to Kyura’s sixth and final year was an endless toil in the fields, an endurance marathon while sprinting the hardest she could. She studied and practiced and beamed and sulked through all that she was learning, and slowly, her modest beginnings had sprouted into progress made in leaps and bounds. Higure had noticed as much first-hand, but there seemed a further development that she and several other members of their cohort spied: Kyura’s entire demeanor had shifted by the midpoint of their fifth year. No longer was she the amicable, if slightly restrained woman Higure had met on that first day. It was as if their relationship, like those of Kyura’s other acquaintances, had become transactional—as if all her emotional energy was being fed into growing and learning as a Shinigami, but not as a person.
The signs were revealing themselves to Kyura as well, the worst and most blatant of which being her inability to connect with her Spirit. Their conversations were cordial and insightful in improving herself as a Shinigami…yet she felt no closer to the supposed mirror-image of her soul and conviction. Indeed, she deduced, it was like the Spirit was keeping her at arm’s length: deflating, yes, but not unordinary. But she did not know how to break the spell, per se—and she didn’t dare burden Higure with a concern she knew she could only face alone. She hunkered back down and trudged on towards graduation.
~~~
The door to the dormitory closed without a hand to assist it. Kyura all but dragged herself to her desk, letting herself drop into the seat as a thick sigh billowed from her lips. Slumped, limp, her body was suspended; the whirlwind in her head captured the whole of her attention. Numbers, incantations, bodily movements, and the relentless strain of concentrating on all three had brought her nerves to a fever pitch. Interspersed throughout the thicket were hairs of doubt, only budded from the ground but growing steadily.
While staring at the ceiling, she felt a familiar pair of eyes spritzing her with pity.
“Let me guess, yet another day of breaking yourself,” Higure asked of a question she already knew how to answer. Kyura dug the exhaustion from her eyes with a thumb and index.
“I’m not even going to continue this discussion…”
Higure scoffed. “Why not? I’ve been watching you whittle yourself down to the bone, Kyura. I’ve offered my help. But right now you’re sitting there and probably wondering what you’re gonna do for yourself, huh?”
Kyura didn’t respond.
“You’re gonna die under a pile of paperwork long before any Hollow or Quincy can get their hands on you, you know that? You’re gonna be face-down there, and guess what—no one here’s gonna wanna dig through the paper and pull you out because no one’s gonna care! Because you pushed them all away!”
The hand that had been rubbing Kyura’s eyes now lay motionless and palm down over her vision. Footsteps approached.
“Come on, Kyura. I’m telling you this because
I still want to help. I know who you were and what you’re capable of. But you have to listen to me for once, you can’t challenge everything in the world and expect to learn much from it all! I mean, look at you! You’re paralyzed over not being able to ace the Zanjutsu classes—even though you’re already considered one of the best in the class!”
Motionless. Silent. Higure’s hands clenched after several seconds. The de facto gavel struck down.
“I still want to help, but if you’re gonna continue being so adamant, then I won’t offer anything. Just know that when your righteousness gets the better of you, your family’s gonna have to deal with someone who couldn’t last in Shin’o, or worse. Is that really what—“
“Just shut UP!”
Higure raised her eyebrows, more stunned by the sudden rise in Kyura’s voice rather than the nature of the outburst. Kyura pressed white-knuckled fists into the table before her; the look she bore into Higure was brimmed with conflicted anguish, yet it was anguished nonetheless. If anything, it–and the vague encroachment of volatile Reiatsu in the air–washed a wave of humidity over her body that felt her skin grow clammy to the touch.
“You don’t get to talk about my family, or legacy, or whatever drivel you’re spouting off about! Not when you got everything all prim and proper set up for you to succeed! Look at
you! When you’re not working on our classes, you just frolic about with our classmates, like these aren’t some of the most important years of our lives!”
The abruptness of Kyura shooting from her chair was accentuated by that same chair toppling onto its back. Higure’s shock fully set in as she took a step back towards the dormitory entrance.
“This isn’t just some school! This is our future. That’s something most of the other students here don’t get, and if they don’t like me for it, then fine! If you don’t like me for it, then fine! If I get crushed by the work I’m doing, or make a mistake in a fight against a Hollow, or get shunned by my family for any sort of disgrace, then FINE! All I know is that I’ll be doing the right thing, the dutiful thing, while you and all of your entitled brat companions act like this is some game and die with childish regrets!”
Kyura rushed in Higure’s direction, and for a second, Higure’s heart froze in time. She raised her arms and hunched forward in defense of her head–only to be met by the light breeze of Kyura storming past and out the dorm. The door slammed with a ferocity that shook their entire section of living quarters, and only then did Higure exit her shielding stance. She glanced towards the door, listless, timorous, aimless.
Shigaisen had departed, but as Higure realized, her skin still suffered with a sticky sweat wrought by that persisting humidity.
~~~
The following three days saw Kyura deserted from the dormitory, including one with two of her classes; she was not present for either. Both cohorts seemed surprised, but after curt explanations by Higure, most of each class found the bombshell to be nothing more than a dud. A girl like Kyura, they reasoned, only had a matter of time before her endless endeavoring caught the better of her. For Kyura, those three days were the still of contemplation before the typhoon of an ultimatum: that is, she was to either figure it all out or sulk home as a failure. Day in and day out, she spent her time as far from the Academy as possible, wandering, rationalizing, conferring with herself. She attempted to question the Spirit on several occasions, but each time, his baritone voice did not reply. Reaching him via Jinzen had occurred to her early on, but she had left her Asauchi half-baked in the dormitory, and the thought of committing to the act felt strangely demotivating.
However, on the fourth day and for the next few weeks, Kyura had surprised Higure by returning to their living quarters. Upon first arriving, how haggard she was was apparent to Higure almost immediately; her blonde hair was dull and wildly unkempt, her eyes sodden with dogged, dreary acceptance, her clothes wrinkled and caked in soot, and her lips were parched from a lack of abundant water. Even so, Kyura had trudged inside without speaking a word–she merely collapsed into her bed and allowed the first adequate sleep all week to take hold.
Returning home now was a slight against Kyura’s very instinct and purpose. Yet she could not find the resolution to her qualms.
Kyura was present for all her classes as normal, too, but a distinct air of rigidity followed like a fog around her entire form that was all but palpable by her peers. Her performance in each class, however, slumped–no matter how she tried to prepare herself each morning, a persisting hole in her gut drained her of all energy and incentive that pulled on her until she shut her eyes each night. She was not spared in unconsciousness, either, for nightmares of many colors plagued her senses; her Spirit’s silence continued, but with each day, she could not dispose of her hesitations.
Was Higure right?
Was she self-righteous?
Was she simply meant to live with this power uncultivated and unrefined?
Was she going to become a disgrace?
All the signs had proclaimed in unison. “OF COURSE.”
There was no point, then, in ever speaking with the enigmatic Spirit again.
~~~
Only two days separated Kyura from the start of her Year 5 examinations when she awoke before dawn on one silent morning. Void of anything, she stared at the ceiling for about five minutes; with hopeless pallor exhuming, she sat up and stared at the opposite wall for about another ten. The only sound beyond the regular clicking of an analog wall clock was the occasional nasality of Higure as she slept. Kyura’s throat felt numb while she listened. Failure was an oncoming train in the distance, its single white eye burning like the sun as a signal of certain ruination.
Kyura’s gaze eventually fell to her Asauchi, its unremarkable simplicity obscured by early-morning’s blackness. It was laid in its sheath at a gentle angle upon her desk, unassuming. Silent. For a split second, an impulse told her to try and snap the blade in half; maybe it would make things right. Maybe she was just given the wrong blade–the wrong tools. She couldn’t be blamed for it, either. What use could the weapon be if her Spirit actively refused to speak to her?
Rationale swung back within the same second. The Spirit did not talk, but as Kyura’s instructors had lectured, he did not have to. He was but an extension of her–her greatest tool.
Kyura blinked at the Asauchi. Her greatest tool.
A tool as great as its wielder.
Kyura was already mid-leap out the dorm’s opened window with sword in hand before she could fully process a subsequent thought. Open fields collapsed to arboreal walls of green and black, and for a moment, she was forced to avoid a head-on collision as she dodged and weaved through trees large and small. But just as quickly, the forest parted its hands, bringing Kyura to a stop at the fringes of the sanctuary. It was a mundane clearing, a few rocks and organic debris littered about under the departing moon, yet a perfectly suitable site for Kyura’s ultimatum nonetheless.
Shigaisen pulled her sword from its sheath. The cloth-wrapped hilt was cold to the touch and somewhat foreign to the muscles in her arm. She stepped forth, foot by foot, until she stood in the clearing’s very center; a modest boulder with the diameter and height of a bicycle was there to greet her. She swallowed, then kneeled, resting the scabbard to her left side and staring at the ground between her and the boulder.
With a muffled shifting noise, she pierced her blade into the soil, placed her hands into her lap, and shut her eyes. Conscious thoughts ran dry, active emotions tapered off, and the light bulb of the outside world went dark.
Kyura’s eyes reopened to a sight instantly alarming. There was no mountain, no island, no cottage, no foliage. No Spirit. There was only the murky blackness that matched the outside world, and she was floating—no, she wasn’t, she realized. There was a surface at her back; loose, shifty, grainy like sand. There was the turbulence of water ahead, just out of arm’s reach, and there were the air bubbles that escaped her exhaling mouth.
Everything clicked the following instant. Kyura lurched up and shattered the water’s surface with an elapsed gasp that swelled her lungs with air. She pulled her feet underneath her until she stood in a shoulder-height pool of water, but the alarm bells still rang her ears. One glance at her surroundings explained why: the parts of her that poked into open air were drenched and water-logged, but beyond that, she could still see very little—a suffocating and sweltering fog all but blinded Kyura to everything save her arms and the water within a foot of her.
The mountain was invisible. The Spirit was nonexistent. Kyura thought she could perceive the island and the cottage about a dozen yards to her east, but something wasn’t right there, either. The island’s black silhouette appeared half its original size, and the cottage was no longer present. She squinted; she thought she could notice a disheveled shape in its place.
”You return.”
Kyura perked up at the all-too-familiar voice—before physically recoiling upon the Spirit’s noticeably distant, echoing words.
”Though you will not find the answers you seek here. Not in this state.”
Shigaisen stared up at nothing in particular and shouted back. “What’re you talking about? And—and what happened here? Where are you?!”
Silence hung for but a second before the Spirit’s baritone condescension drilled into Kyura.
”Naive girl. You believe you possess the right to appear here, as blasted as this world is now, and expect the answers to our trepidations to drop into your hands? Nonsense! For as long as you persist in this way, you are undeserving of any more support!”
Abject terror lanced through Kyura’s heart and mind, which catalyzed into unfettered desperation that quaked her very soul.
“But I’ve done everything I needed to do! I’ve poured everything into becoming the best Shinigami I can be! Isn’t that enough for you, Spirit?!” Kyura staggered through water like molasses towards the shadow of an island. Her eyes were burning, but she could not distinguish her own tears amongst her soaked face. Once enough of the water gave way to damp soil, she collapsed to her hands and knees.
“What about the past month?! My Reiatsu never wavered–you kept on giving me strength, yet you didn’t say anything when I tried to call for you! I tried figuring it out on my own, but I can’t! I don’t know what I should do! Tell me what I should–”
Kyura found her sentence replaced by a shriek as an incredible blunt force pulverized her left side, its power and velocity enough to launch her into what she interpreted as a disheveled mass. The nighttime realm spun as a blend of nonsensical colors and shapes around and around and this way and that way until she crashed back-first into a sheer rock face, tumbling until her body found level ground amongst the midnight forest. Rolling onto her back, dust and earthen chips from the apparent impact she’d created rained upon her after a short delay. Kyura could not find it within her to care, however; her body was already numb, and the presence of two brilliant lights of gold beyond the opaque fog had caught her attention. Both lowered towards her, and as they neared, a dark, shark-like form accompanied them. The Spirit’s voice shook Kyura and her surroundings with a great violence, as if she was amidst a catastrophic storm out at sea.
”Coming to you is what I have tried to do all this time. I continued to lend you my strength despite your silence. I continued to believe that you would understand, or at the very least, comprehend what was happening. I reached for you in your slumbering hours every night. But you did not answer, and in my naivete, I persisted while attempting to understand why. Now that you are here, I believe that I have reached that conclusion.”
The Spirit was close enough for a flooring humidity to overwhelm Kyura beyond measure, keeping her suspended against the ground. Wide-eyed, she stared back.
”You did not answer because you did not listen. You could not listen. You focused only on what was directly in front of you. When you slept, you could only perceive the most gregariously abysmal outcomes of those sights. When you were awake, you could only perceive ways to become that Shinigami you seek to be.”
The Spirit shifted as close as he could without crushing Kyura and the trees underneath him. He shifted his head so as to more directly watch her with one glassy eye.
“But you cannot begin to understand a world you yourself cannot see. That is why I refuse to lend further assistance, and that is why I have not sought to strengthen our bond. You have used that support thus far to grow your lake and mechanical understandings, yes. But you witnessed for yourself what that passion has led to–destructive obsession.”
The revelations came like ocean tides at a beach, lapping back and forth across her. Each added a piece to the puzzle that, while distant and small, brought a picture resembling reality to the light. With the solution came a certain peace, one that permeated through the forest’s gloom with ease.
“Destructive obsession…” Kyura murmured.
Without prompt, her mind’s eye lurched back to the disheveled shape she’d witnessed on the island. Of course that was the cottage, reduced to rubble with no chance of resurrection—not without outside intervention.
Conscientiousness. Respect. Moderation. The three pillars of lifelong success, all staring her in the face. They were constructed of plain, rickety wood, and though they scraped the sky, they could only support a single home: Kyura’s.
A weightless sensation overtook her while the Spirit, lifting from the fog and the trees, casted her a knowing glance. She exhaled, sitting up first, then taking her stand within the ocean of mist.
“I’m…sorry, Spirit. I’ve let you down, and the same goes for everyone else at Shin’o.”
Kyura looked up at where the Spirit had been.
“I think I’m starting to get it now. I can’t properly control my power—which is your power—without knowing what it is first. I…need to understand you, an extension of myself, before I try to understand what Shin’o is teaching me.” She curled her hands into resolute fists.
For the couple-second pause that followed, Kyura gained the sense that she was being inspected and evaluated, but the Spirit’s booming response laid to rest many stressors at once.
”I appreciate being able to meet you at last, Kyura Shigaisen. Your logic remains flawed, but you have taken your first step. I am warily optimistic; you are still only two steps from failure. Do not let this moment cloud your lenses. Simultaneously, do not rest on your laurels. Allowing either to occur shall make this night succinctly worthless.”
Kyura pursed her lips a little at the hard truth of things, though she nodded with affirmation.
”I have pointed out the correct path, and it is your responsibility to tread it. Go. Drink from the lake as you always have, Kyura, and return newly-equipped to face your challenges. I await the realization of this investment, as well as our upcoming conversations.”
For a second Kyura knitted her brows together at the Spirit’s choice of words, but remembering his stubborn insistence in prior meetings, she tossed the thought aside and began her trek back to the lake. All throughout, she could physically feel the thinning of the fog until her arrival at the body’s crystal-blue shores, where her visibility had returned towards past levels she only now noticed.
Kneeling at the shoreline, she shut her eyes and cupped a handful of water, downing it all. In a blink she felt her surroundings shift from her humid Realm to the temperate forest near Shin’o. Opening her eyes, she bore witness to the approaching dawn beyond the treeline; everbright in oranges and violets, the sun had begun casting a new day upon Soul Society.
~~~
The rest, as they say, was history. Kyura spent the whole first day reorienting to her new perspective while beginning to mend her relationships at the Academy, starting with Higure. Hearing this complete about-face was quite unnerving for her, but after learning of the context behind Kyura’s reconsiderations, she readily accepted the change. “Uh-huh, so I was right,” Higure had said. Kyura did not retort, instead shining Higure a bemused grin.
Conversely, Kyura had hit the ground running in her studies, her revitalization powering much of her push forward. No longer did she want to merely learn the aspects of being a Shinigami–she was hungry to learn of the Shinigami itself and apply that to her education. She managed to save her Year Five marks as a result, thus setting her up for a smooth-sailing final year. In that time and the months following, Kyura’s cohorts discerned the changes for the better; she remained conscientiousness, but moderation of her desire for success not only provided a much more manageable balance between work and leisure, but her freed mind allowed Kyura to place much more respect into those around her–and for others to place similar respect unto her. Little by little, throughout her class’s final year, she was able to shave away their apprehensions and forge those worthwhile bonds.
The steady improvements continued until two months prior to graduation. Kyura had been bonding with her Spirit regularly by this time, having learned many of his likes, dislikes, beliefs, and assumptions about the world and vice versa. However, one unassuming meeting on one uneventful day off from training had soon made every struggle over the past six years worth it.
”You are ready.”
Kyura stared up at the shark-like Spirit with an intensely-quizzical look on her face. She had been discussing current events with the Spirit, herself sitting barefoot at the edge of the island with her feet submerged, when he had remarked those simple words without warrant.
“What?”
”I have returned my faith in you over the preceding year. You have learned and grown, and I feel that I am able to call you not only my ally, but my companion. You are young, yet you have been earning your right to call yourself my Master. For these reasons, it is time for you to learn my name.”
It took Kyura a second to process, but the weight behind the Spirit’s words whipped her onto her feet. He gazed upon her, an ant dwarfed by his monolithic size–and spread his lips into something resembling a proud grin.
”I am Shakunetsu. Shakunetsu no Daikuzui.”
The words seemed almost magical in nature as they imbued themselves into Kyura. Alongside the elation that coursed through her, the raw power each component of the name possessed burgeoned in her soul. In the brief process, a fourth word entered the fray as one of a particular note. Her Kaigo.
”Scald.” Kyura grinned. “Shakunetsu’s a great name. I hope I can put it into practice well.”
~~~
The remainder of Kyura’s career at Shin’o came and went, and before long, she found herself graduated into an imminent Shinigami, complete with a fully imprinted Zanpakuto. Before saying farewell to the Academy, however, Higure presented her with a final parting gift: an ocean-blue overcoat hand-crafted using some of the highest-quality linen she could find. With tears in her eyes, Kyura had accepted such a surprise; to the present day, she considers it as mandatory to wear as her Shihakusho.
Her final challenge, then, was the decision on which Division to join. Ruminating on that choice had mostly been performed in earlier years, though, making cementing her choice relatively simple. To best serve the Shigaisen clan and further nurture its connections with others in the Seireitei, a position in the Sixth Division was the best option apparent to her.
Over 80 years on, at age 271, Kyura has certainly made a name for herself. She rapidly showed herself as distinct amongst her new Division compatriots, allowing her to climb with relative expediency up the seated officer ladder. Now a Fifth Seat, she may still struggle at times in connecting with her cohorts, but every day is a learning opportunity to her–with that passion, she’s sure she could make a breadwinner out of herself yet.
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