yoshua171

Bleach - Resonant Souls

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It had been such a normal, pleasant night, he mused with a slight sigh. Yet, Yuen didn't rush to get out of the train, he waited till the next stop–the train would certainly be faster than him after all. To pass the time he watched those faint white-masked silhouettes, tracking their progress along with the strange light at Sakuhana Park. Naturally, he had already checked his Soul Pager. It'd gone off here and there while he'd been busy, but he had ignored it...something he felt rather guilty about actually. Sure, his job made sure him and his family were taken care of...but it seemed wrong to just leave what could be a crises to someone else.

Nonetheless, he'd done just that, but now he had some time...more than he usually did, for sure. So, when the train's breaks engaged with a pervasive hiss and he felt the metal beast begin to slow, Yuen pushed to his feet and stood near one of the doors, holding onto the metal bar to keep his balance. Less than a minute and the train stopped, seconds dragged on and the doors finally opened, then he was out and on the move. He'd want to leave his body somewhere relatively safe, so while he did make his way in the general direction of the park, he stopped at a hotel many blocks away, got a room and partook of the complimentary water bottles therein. Once he was satisfied he laid down and then used the implement he'd been granted to evacuate his body, jumping out–and now garbed in his substitute shinigami uniform, Yuen pushed the window open and jumped out after he made sure the door was locked. He closed the window behind him and leapt to the next building over, already on the second story.

Yuen made his way for the park, it'd take some minutes, but he'd get there soon enough. He hoped the time it took didn't result in tragedy.

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Yūen Kashimori

⊰❖ B I O ❖⊱
❖ Name: Kashimori(flourishing oak), Yūen(elegant/grand).
❖ Age: 27.
❖ Gender: Male.
❖ Personality:

❖ Key Traits: Steadfast, Dedicated, Careful | Calm, Diplomatic, Disciplined, Competitive | Fair | Emotionally Blocked off (refusal to wrestle with some of his own issues).
❖ Core: A protector by nature, Yūen is dedicated to the safety and wellbeing of others, his family and loved ones above all else. He's slow to anger, quick to action, and can often appear steadfast to the point of implacability. The truth is, though, that Yūen is rather cut off from his deeper more 'selfish' emotions. A lifetime of parentification–though largely unintentional–has led to him being a person who puts others before himself...even when he really shouldn't. `Nonetheless, this does make him an eminently reliable friend, co-worker, and partner. He's perceptive, emotionally intelligent, and while not afraid of conflict, he well tend to avoid dealing with his own internal struggles...even when those struggles inevitably begin to affect how he treats others.

❖ Motivation: On the surface, Yūen is motivated primarily to ensure the success of others, with his own wellbeing, happiness, and life path being more of an after thought. It's not that he never does anything for himself, and more that the things he does decide to do end up being things that also help others. Truthfully, an unrepresented part of Yūen wants to be surrounded with people who check in with him, who prioritize him, who lift him up as much as he lifts them. He's not the sort to have particularly materialistic goals, he doesn't care about money or fame or legacy–he just wants self-actualization in whatever form he can get it. Sounds easy, right? Well, wrong, especially when he won't even focus on himself to begin with.

❖ Preferences:

▲ Spicy and Sweet things
▲ Physical Activity
▲ Puzzles
▼ Pettiness
▼ Crowds
▼ Bullies

❖ Physical Details: Yūen stands at 6'1" (185.42cm) with a lean sort of sleeper build. There's muscle definition, most certainly, but it's often concealed beneath clothing. He moves with a natural grace that is neither predatory nor unassuming. Short, fairly neat, brown hair with somewhat messy bangs that fall just short of his exceptionally dark blue eyes–which are often mistaken for black in low light. There is a quiet confidence about him and a gentle sort of authority that screams "I have younger siblings!" His more casual clothes tend to consist of jackets, often in blue tones (his favorite color) and button-up dress shirts beneath, with slacks, often black in color. On occasion he'll wear rings or a necklace.

When acting as a substitute shinigami, Yūen wears a standard shihakusho with no modifications. His zanpakuto sits sheathed on his left hip.

❖ Backstory: He’d never call it a tragedy. That was a fact, but so too was it true that Yūen hadn’t had it easy. On the one hand, he was fortunate enough to have both his parents, a reliable older brother and three younger siblings to make the house rowdy and energetic as the years passed by, but on the other. Well…his father–Tetsuo– was present, sure, but only just. The man woke early, ate, went to work, came home and then buried himself in his study. Tetsuo paid the bills, sure, but everything else? He’d rather hide behind a newspaper or a closed study door. So, naturally, their mother–Kairi–did her best to pick up the slack, and where she couldn’t…there was Yūen’s older brother: Junkei. When she was run ragged, Junkei took up the slack while Tetsuo moved among the five children like he was nothing more than furniture: solid, present, but utterly without warmth.

Where their mother frayed, Junkei held the seams together. Only three years his senior, somehow it was Junkei who was always there. He was the one who broke up fights, who noticed when their sister went quiet, who sat with Yūen on the back steps after a bad day and said nothing because nothing when he just needed silence and the knowledge someone cared. Perhaps, had he stayed, things could’ve been different, but he didn’t, even if it wasn’t of his own accord.

Because, when Yūen was eleven, Junkei died. No warning, no bad feeling. Just a bad accident and a sudden emptiness where once he’d been. Yet, life went on, even if everything felt twisted and out of place, even if every load Junkei had carried suddenly fell on Yūen’s shoulders. Silently, he took on the mantle, not because he wanted to, but because there was no one else to do it. It wasn’t noble, it wasn’t fair, but it was how things were. So, he carried it and moved in the way his older brother once had–without complaining, without asking for anything in return, and with as much dignity as he could manage. It wasn’t easy. His grades suffered, he lost friends because he was ‘never around’ anymore, and as high school came around…milestones passed him by. First girlfriend? Who had the time when brothers needed homework and sisters needed chaperones? First night on the town when he was old enough to drink? There was no one to go with and who’d prefer a lonely night of drinks over time spent with his dear brothers playing ball, or shopping with his sister and watching her eyes light up when she saw the ‘perfect’ outfit come together.

Yet, there was one place that Yūen just got to be himself: the dojo. He’d started at thirteen, not because it’d seemed interesting, but because the guidance counselor had suggested it. To Yūen it was practical–the discipline helped him focus and keep things together for his family–and realistic. After all, the world was a dangerous place, Junkei’s accident had proven that much, but there were other things that could be fought, could be defended against, so he trained.

He was still there, every day and every night…for his mother…for his siblings, but he had one place where the world went quiet except for the sound of bodies moving and voices rising with every strike. As time went on he moved out, found his own apartment–nearby home of course–and he kept helping. He packed lunches, checked homework, and for the youngest, his brother Kei, he sat by the bed when the nightmares were worst and Kei just needed to know he’d wake up not alone.

Yūen carried that structure further, but eventually siblings blossomed beyond needing their older brother all the time, even little Kei. Yet, it seemed that life wasn’t done playing tragedy with their lives, as one night, during a family dinner…perhaps attracted to the repressed emotions of his mother, something he couldn’t even see attacked.

A hollow.

That was when things really changed. For the better? Well, only time will tell.

❖ Why did you become a Substitute Shinigami: Duty. Desperation. Instinct. When he was confronted with death he accepted the pact not to save himself, but because he felt that if he did not, his family would perish, both in the moment or that they would hurt in his absence.

❖ Recent Events: Though he'd done his initial work and 'training' as a substitute shinigami for some time after he became one, Yūen–roughly two months ago–had to cease his 'normal' patrols and duties as a substitute shinigami due to real life responsibilities. Specifically, one of his rarely visiting high profile clients showed up, a certain Don Kanonji, and he had to attend to the man in order to pay the bills. Only recently has Yūen finished his work with Don Kanonji, thus allowing him to return to his work as a Substitute Shinigami, and now with the assurance that the bills will be paid for awhile!

⊰❖ C O M B A T ❖⊱

• Strength: 100 (Physicality - Zanjutsu)
• Skill: 300 (Technique/Precision - Zanjutsu/Hakuda)
• Speed: 300 (Athletecism - Hoho)
• Focus: 500 (Rei control - Hoho/Kido)
• Constitution: 150 (Durability/Resilience)
• Reiryoku: 1000
• Reiatsu: 200

⊰❖ S H I N I G A M I A R T S ❖⊱

• Zanjutsu: 1/5
• Hakuda: 0/5
• Hoho: 0/5
• Kido: 2/5

❖Feats: N/A

⊰❖ Z A N P A K U T O ❖⊱

❖ Sealed Appearance: White sheath with a standard silver-bladed Asauchi. The hilt is composed of four diamond-shaped sections. The grip itself is wrapped with black and white blue fabric, the blue fabric trails off the end two feet.

❖ Techniques:

Kidō-giri(鬼道切り ‘Demon Way Incision): By focusing the reiryoku of a Kidō spell through one’s blade, Yuen can cast in this alternate manner. This has several distinct benefits, chiefly it becomes more efficient with increased mastery with a zanpakuto. However, this aspect is currently irrelevant to Yuen due to his lack of a Shikai. More notable, perhaps, is the fact that casting in this way can hide the initial visual tells of a spell as the initial physical manifestation is hidden and the reiryoku is contained within the zanpakuto itself. Finally, as proficiency increases in the technique, its wielders can subtly tweak spells cast through their blade. These modifications are typically exceptionally minor, in the order of changing a spell’s shape or the directed focus of its manifestation.

Examples

Kido-Giri - Sho: A faint white light shimmers diffusely along the Zanpakuto’s blade. Upon release, the spell will manifest as a small directed shockwave originating from the blade. Stronger if aligned with the length of the blade, but may be released from any plane on the body of the sword, but never in an omnidirectional fashion. This effect can propel the blade in a direction, which may be a boon or a bane depending on the circumstance.

Kido-Giri - Seki: The Zanpakuto’s blade briefly shimmers light blue, which then fades. Upon contact with another object–or if the caster ‘detonates’ the spell–a blue flash will occur along with Seki’s normal effect. Notably. Seki used in this manner does not cause any form of paralysis. If ‘detonated’ the flash will occur, the small ovular spheroid will appear aligned somewhere next to the blade (within an inch or less) and then it will release its repelling force. Skillful use may allow a caster to enhance the force of a strike with their Zanpakuto.

Reiheika(霊兵戈 'Spirit warfare'): Reiatsu is the pressure or force exerted by one’s spiritual potency, thus Reiheika is a technique that seeks to turn that force itself into a weapon or tool. As proficiency develops, this technique may enable its users greater precision, control, potency, and range when manipulating their reiatsu. At its lowest grade, which is presently Yuen’s purview, it may be used only within his direct vicinity (2ft radius) and may serve only to slow or slightly redirect the trajectory of attacks (or his own movements).

Explainer

Think of this as creating waves/shockwaves/pulses of kinetic energy…manifesting a dense ‘pressure’ around oneself…or generating invisible (but highly detectable by spiritual senses) energy constructs via reiatsu.

Rei Senkaiken(霊 旋回剣 ‘Spirit Turning-blade’): Requires both significant Focus and Skill, Rei Senkaiken centers around channeling reiatsu into and around one’s strikes with precision in order to counter non-martial techniques. Functions primarily upon the edge of the Zanpakuto, focusing reiatsu in a flowing pattern down the body of the katana to pool in a wavering point like a heat haze at the tip. By stabbing with the blade tip after channeling the necessary reiatsu, a pulse of force can be released into reiryoku-based techniques to disrupt their structure. If done swiftly enough, the wielder can ‘draw’ patterns of briefly lingering reiatsu in the air around them. Running into these faintly shimmering lines of pressure causes them to burst, which can throw off movements or attacks.

❖ Memorized Kido:

• Sho
• Seki

Bleach - Resonant Souls

@Zman he just had me post the character straight into the OOC thread, so you should be fine to do that :)

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Yūen Kashimori

⊰❖ B I O ❖⊱
❖ Name: Kashimori(flourishing oak), Yūen(elegant/grand).
❖ Age: 27.
❖ Gender: Male.
❖ Personality:

❖ Key Traits: Steadfast, Dedicated, Careful | Calm, Diplomatic, Disciplined, Competitive | Fair | Emotionally Blocked off (refusal to wrestle with some of his own issues).
❖ Core: A protector by nature, Yūen is dedicated to the safety and wellbeing of others, his family and loved ones above all else. He's slow to anger, quick to action, and can often appear steadfast to the point of implacability. The truth is, though, that Yūen is rather cut off from his deeper more 'selfish' emotions. A lifetime of parentification–though largely unintentional–has led to him being a person who puts others before himself...even when he really shouldn't. `Nonetheless, this does make him an eminently reliable friend, co-worker, and partner. He's perceptive, emotionally intelligent, and while not afraid of conflict, he well tend to avoid dealing with his own internal struggles...even when those struggles inevitably begin to affect how he treats others.

❖ Motivation: On the surface, Yūen is motivated primarily to ensure the success of others, with his own wellbeing, happiness, and life path being more of an after thought. It's not that he never does anything for himself, and more that the things he does decide to do end up being things that also help others. Truthfully, an unrepresented part of Yūen wants to be surrounded with people who check in with him, who prioritize him, who lift him up as much as he lifts them. He's not the sort to have particularly materialistic goals, he doesn't care about money or fame or legacy–he just wants self-actualization in whatever form he can get it. Sounds easy, right? Well, wrong, especially when he won't even focus on himself to begin with.

❖ Preferences:

▲ Spicy and Sweet things
▲ Physical Activity
▲ Puzzles
▼ Pettiness
▼ Crowds
▼ Bullies

❖ Physical Details: Yūen stands at 6'1" (185.42cm) with a lean sort of sleeper build. There's muscle definition, most certainly, but it's often concealed beneath clothing. He moves with a natural grace that is neither predatory nor unassuming. Short, fairly neat, brown hair with somewhat messy bangs that fall just short of his exceptionally dark blue eyes–which are often mistaken for black in low light. There is a quiet confidence about him and a gentle sort of authority that screams "I have younger siblings!" His more casual clothes tend to consist of jackets, often in blue tones (his favorite color) and button-up dress shirts beneath, with slacks, often black in color. On occasion he'll wear rings or a necklace.

When acting as a substitute shinigami, Yūen wears a standard shihakusho with no modifications. His zanpakuto sits sheathed on his left hip.

❖ Backstory: He’d never call it a tragedy. That was a fact, but so too was it true that Yūen hadn’t had it easy. On the one hand, he was fortunate enough to have both his parents, a reliable older brother and three younger siblings to make the house rowdy and energetic as the years passed by, but on the other. Well…his father–Tetsuo– was present, sure, but only just. The man woke early, ate, went to work, came home and then buried himself in his study. Tetsuo paid the bills, sure, but everything else? He’d rather hide behind a newspaper or a closed study door. So, naturally, their mother–Kairi–did her best to pick up the slack, and where she couldn’t…there was Yūen’s older brother: Junkei. When she was run ragged, Junkei took up the slack while Tetsuo moved among the five children like he was nothing more than furniture: solid, present, but utterly without warmth.

Where their mother frayed, Junkei held the seams together. Only three years his senior, somehow it was Junkei who was always there. He was the one who broke up fights, who noticed when their sister went quiet, who sat with Yūen on the back steps after a bad day and said nothing because nothing when he just needed silence and the knowledge someone cared. Perhaps, had he stayed, things could’ve been different, but he didn’t, even if it wasn’t of his own accord.

Because, when Yūen was eleven, Junkei died. No warning, no bad feeling. Just a bad accident and a sudden emptiness where once he’d been. Yet, life went on, even if everything felt twisted and out of place, even if every load Junkei had carried suddenly fell on Yūen’s shoulders. Silently, he took on the mantle, not because he wanted to, but because there was no one else to do it. It wasn’t noble, it wasn’t fair, but it was how things were. So, he carried it and moved in the way his older brother once had–without complaining, without asking for anything in return, and with as much dignity as he could manage. It wasn’t easy. His grades suffered, he lost friends because he was ‘never around’ anymore, and as high school came around…milestones passed him by. First girlfriend? Who had the time when brothers needed homework and sisters needed chaperones? First night on the town when he was old enough to drink? There was no one to go with and who’d prefer a lonely night of drinks over time spent with his dear brothers playing ball, or shopping with his sister and watching her eyes light up when she saw the ‘perfect’ outfit come together.

Yet, there was one place that Yūen just got to be himself: the dojo. He’d started at thirteen, not because it’d seemed interesting, but because the guidance counselor had suggested it. To Yūen it was practical–the discipline helped him focus and keep things together for his family–and realistic. After all, the world was a dangerous place, Junkei’s accident had proven that much, but there were other things that could be fought, could be defended against, so he trained.

He was still there, every day and every night…for his mother…for his siblings, but he had one place where the world went quiet except for the sound of bodies moving and voices rising with every strike. As time went on he moved out, found his own apartment–nearby home of course–and he kept helping. He packed lunches, checked homework, and for the youngest, his brother Kei, he sat by the bed when the nightmares were worst and Kei just needed to know he’d wake up not alone.

Yūen carried that structure further, but eventually siblings blossomed beyond needing their older brother all the time, even little Kei. Yet, it seemed that life wasn’t done playing tragedy with their lives, as one night, during a family dinner…perhaps attracted to the repressed emotions of his mother, something he couldn’t even see attacked.

A hollow.

That was when things really changed. For the better? Well, only time will tell.

❖ Why did you become a Substitute Shinigami: Duty. Desperation. Instinct. When he was confronted with death he accepted the pact not to save himself, but because he felt that if he did not, his family would perish, both in the moment or that they would hurt in his absence.

❖ Recent Events: Though he'd done his initial work and 'training' as a substitute shinigami for some time after he became one, Yūen–roughly two months ago–had to cease his 'normal' patrols and duties as a substitute shinigami due to real life responsibilities. Specifically, one of his rarely visiting high profile clients showed up, a certain Don Kanonji, and he had to attend to the man in order to pay the bills. Only recently has Yūen finished his work with Don Kanonji, thus allowing him to return to his work as a Substitute Shinigami, and now with the assurance that the bills will be paid for awhile!

⊰❖ C O M B A T ❖⊱

• Strength: 100 (Physicality - Zanjutsu)
• Skill: 300 (Technique/Precision - Zanjutsu/Hakuda)
• Speed: 300 (Athletecism - Hoho)
• Focus: 500 (Rei control - Hoho/Kido)
• Constitution: 150 (Durability/Resilience)
• Reiryoku: 1000
• Reiatsu: 200

⊰❖ S H I N I G A M I A R T S ❖⊱

• Zanjutsu: 1/5
• Hakuda: 0/5
• Hoho: 0/5
• Kido: 2/5

❖Feats: N/A

⊰❖ Z A N P A K U T O ❖⊱

❖ Sealed Appearance: White sheath with a standard silver-bladed Asauchi. The hilt is composed of four diamond-shaped sections. The grip itself is wrapped with black and white blue fabric, the blue fabric trails off the end two feet.

❖ Techniques:

Kidō-giri(鬼道切り ‘Demon Way Incision): By focusing the reiryoku of a Kidō spell through one’s blade, Yuen can cast in this alternate manner. This has several distinct benefits, chiefly it becomes more efficient with increased mastery with a zanpakuto. However, this aspect is currently irrelevant to Yuen due to his lack of a Shikai. More notable, perhaps, is the fact that casting in this way can hide the initial visual tells of a spell as the initial physical manifestation is hidden and the reiryoku is contained within the zanpakuto itself. Finally, as proficiency increases in the technique, its wielders can subtly tweak spells cast through their blade. These modifications are typically exceptionally minor, in the order of changing a spell’s shape or the directed focus of its manifestation.

Examples

Kido-Giri - Sho: A faint white light shimmers diffusely along the Zanpakuto’s blade. Upon release, the spell will manifest as a small directed shockwave originating from the blade. Stronger if aligned with the length of the blade, but may be released from any plane on the body of the sword, but never in an omnidirectional fashion. This effect can propel the blade in a direction, which may be a boon or a bane depending on the circumstance.

Kido-Giri - Seki: The Zanpakuto’s blade briefly shimmers light blue, which then fades. Upon contact with another object–or if the caster ‘detonates’ the spell–a blue flash will occur along with Seki’s normal effect. Notably. Seki used in this manner does not cause any form of paralysis. If ‘detonated’ the flash will occur, the small ovular spheroid will appear aligned somewhere next to the blade (within an inch or less) and then it will release its repelling force. Skillful use may allow a caster to enhance the force of a strike with their Zanpakuto.

Reiheika(霊兵戈 'Spirit warfare'): Reiatsu is the pressure or force exerted by one’s spiritual potency, thus Reiheika is a technique that seeks to turn that force itself into a weapon or tool. As proficiency develops, this technique may enable its users greater precision, control, potency, and range when manipulating their reiatsu. At its lowest grade, which is presently Yuen’s purview, it may be used only within his direct vicinity (2ft radius) and may serve only to slow or slightly redirect the trajectory of attacks (or his own movements).

Explainer

Think of this as creating waves/shockwaves/pulses of kinetic energy…manifesting a dense ‘pressure’ around oneself…or generating invisible (but highly detectable by spiritual senses) energy constructs via reiatsu.

Rei Senkaiken(霊 旋回剣 ‘Spirit Turning-blade’): Requires both significant Focus and Skill, Rei Senkaiken centers around channeling reiatsu into and around one’s strikes with precision in order to counter non-martial techniques. Functions primarily upon the edge of the Zanpakuto, focusing reiatsu in a flowing pattern down the body of the katana to pool in a wavering point like a heat haze at the tip. By stabbing with the blade tip after channeling the necessary reiatsu, a pulse of force can be released into reiryoku-based techniques to disrupt their structure. If done swiftly enough, the wielder can ‘draw’ patterns of briefly lingering reiatsu in the air around them. Running into these faintly shimmering lines of pressure causes them to burst, which can throw off movements or attacks.

❖ Memorized Kido:

• Sho
• Seki

Yoshua's Character Storage Mark VII

Yūen Kashimori

⊰❖ B I O ❖⊱
❖ Name: Kashimori(flourishing oak), Yūen(elegant/grand).
❖ Age: 27.
❖ Gender: Male.
❖ Personality:

❖ Key Traits: Steadfast, Dedicated, Careful | Calm, Diplomatic, Disciplined, Competitive | Fair | Emotionally Blocked off (refusal to wrestle with some of his own issues).
❖ Core: A protector by nature, Yūen is dedicated to the safety and wellbeing of others, his family and loved ones above all else. He's slow to anger, quick to action, and can often appear steadfast to the point of implacability. The truth is, though, that Yūen is rather cut off from his deeper more 'selfish' emotions. A lifetime of parentification–though largely unintentional–has led to him being a person who puts others before himself...even when he really shouldn't. `Nonetheless, this does make him an eminently reliable friend, co-worker, and partner. He's perceptive, emotionally intelligent, and while not afraid of conflict, he well tend to avoid dealing with his own internal struggles...even when those struggles inevitably begin to affect how he treats others.

❖ Motivation: On the surface, Yūen is motivated primarily to ensure the success of others, with his own wellbeing, happiness, and life path being more of an after thought. It's not that he never does anything for himself, and more that the things he does decide to do end up being things that also help others. Truthfully, an unrepresented part of Yūen wants to be surrounded with people who check in with him, who prioritize him, who lift him up as much as he lifts them. He's not the sort to have particularly materialistic goals, he doesn't care about money or fame or legacy–he just wants self-actualization in whatever form he can get it. Sounds easy, right? Well, wrong, especially when he won't even focus on himself to begin with.

❖ Preferences:

▲ Spicy and Sweet things
▲ Physical Activity
▲ Puzzles
▼ Pettiness
▼ Crowds
▼ Bullies

❖ Physical Details: Yūen stands at 6'1" (185.42cm) with a lean sort of sleeper build. There's muscle definition, most certainly, but it's often concealed beneath clothing. He moves with a natural grace that is neither predatory nor unassuming. Short, fairly neat, brown hair with somewhat messy bangs that fall just short of his exceptionally dark blue eyes–which are often mistaken for black in low light. There is a quiet confidence about him and a gentle sort of authority that screams "I have younger siblings!" His more casual clothes tend to consist of jackets, often in blue tones (his favorite color) and button-up dress shirts beneath, with slacks, often black in color. On occasion he'll wear rings or a necklace.

When acting as a substitute shinigami, Yūen wears a standard shihakusho with no modifications. His zanpakuto sits sheathed on his left hip.

❖ Backstory: He’d never call it a tragedy. That was a fact, but so too was it true that Yūen hadn’t had it easy. On the one hand, he was fortunate enough to have both his parents, a reliable older brother and three younger siblings to make the house rowdy and energetic as the years passed by, but on the other. Well…his father–Tetsuo– was present, sure, but only just. The man woke early, ate, went to work, came home and then buried himself in his study. Tetsuo paid the bills, sure, but everything else? He’d rather hide behind a newspaper or a closed study door. So, naturally, their mother–Kairi–did her best to pick up the slack, and where she couldn’t…there was Yūen’s older brother: Junkei. When she was run ragged, Junkei took up the slack while Tetsuo moved among the five children like he was nothing more than furniture: solid, present, but utterly without warmth.

Where their mother frayed, Junkei held the seams together. Only three years his senior, somehow it was Junkei who was always there. He was the one who broke up fights, who noticed when their sister went quiet, who sat with Yūen on the back steps after a bad day and said nothing because nothing when he just needed silence and the knowledge someone cared. Perhaps, had he stayed, things could’ve been different, but he didn’t, even if it wasn’t of his own accord.

Because, when Yūen was eleven, Junkei died. No warning, no bad feeling. Just a bad accident and a sudden emptiness where once he’d been. Yet, life went on, even if everything felt twisted and out of place, even if every load Junkei had carried suddenly fell on Yūen’s shoulders. Silently, he took on the mantle, not because he wanted to, but because there was no one else to do it. It wasn’t noble, it wasn’t fair, but it was how things were. So, he carried it and moved in the way his older brother once had–without complaining, without asking for anything in return, and with as much dignity as he could manage. It wasn’t easy. His grades suffered, he lost friends because he was ‘never around’ anymore, and as high school came around…milestones passed him by. First girlfriend? Who had the time when brothers needed homework and sisters needed chaperones? First night on the town when he was old enough to drink? There was no one to go with and who’d prefer a lonely night of drinks over time spent with his dear brothers playing ball, or shopping with his sister and watching her eyes light up when she saw the ‘perfect’ outfit come together.

Yet, there was one place that Yūen just got to be himself: the dojo. He’d started at thirteen, not because it’d seemed interesting, but because the guidance counselor had suggested it. To Yūen it was practical–the discipline helped him focus and keep things together for his family–and realistic. After all, the world was a dangerous place, Junkei’s accident had proven that much, but there were other things that could be fought, could be defended against, so he trained.

He was still there, every day and every night…for his mother…for his siblings, but he had one place where the world went quiet except for the sound of bodies moving and voices rising with every strike. As time went on he moved out, found his own apartment–nearby home of course–and he kept helping. He packed lunches, checked homework, and for the youngest, his brother Kei, he sat by the bed when the nightmares were worst and Kei just needed to know he’d wake up not alone.

Yūen carried that structure further, but eventually siblings blossomed beyond needing their older brother all the time, even little Kei. Yet, it seemed that life wasn’t done playing tragedy with their lives, as one night, during a family dinner…perhaps attracted to the repressed emotions of his mother, something he couldn’t even see attacked.

A hollow.

That was when things really changed. For the better? Well, only time will tell.

❖ Why did you become a Substitute Shinigami: Duty. Desperation. Instinct. When he was confronted with death he accepted the pact not to save himself, but because he felt that if he did not, his family would perish, both in the moment or that they would hurt in his absence.

❖ Recent Events: Though he'd done his initial work and 'training' as a substitute shinigami for some time after he became one, Yūen–roughly two months ago–had to cease his 'normal' patrols and duties as a substitute shinigami due to real life responsibilities. Specifically, one of his rarely visiting high profile clients showed up, a certain Don Kanonji, and he had to attend to the man in order to pay the bills. Only recently has Yūen finished his work with Don Kanonji, thus allowing him to return to his work as a Substitute Shinigami, and now with the assurance that the bills will be paid for awhile!

⊰❖ C O M B A T ❖⊱

• Strength: 100 (Physicality - Zanjutsu)
• Skill: 300 (Technique/Precision - Zanjutsu/Hakuda)
• Speed: 300 (Athletecism - Hoho)
• Focus: 500 (Rei control - Hoho/Kido)
• Constitution: 150 (Durability/Resilience)
• Reiryoku: 1000
• Reiatsu: 200

⊰❖ S H I N I G A M I A R T S ❖⊱

• Zanjutsu: 1/5
• Hakuda: 0/5
• Hoho: 0/5
• Kido: 2/5

❖Feats: N/A

⊰❖ Z A N P A K U T O ❖⊱

❖ Sealed Appearance: White sheath with a standard silver-bladed Asauchi. The hilt is composed of four diamond-shaped sections. The grip itself is wrapped with black and white blue fabric, the blue fabric trails off the end two feet.

❖ Techniques:

Kidō-giri(鬼道切り ‘Demon Way Incision): By focusing the reiryoku of a Kidō spell through one’s blade, Yuen can cast in this alternate manner. This has several distinct benefits, chiefly it becomes more efficient with increased mastery with a zanpakuto. However, this aspect is currently irrelevant to Yuen due to his lack of a Shikai. More notable, perhaps, is the fact that casting in this way can hide the initial visual tells of a spell as the initial physical manifestation is hidden and the reiryoku is contained within the zanpakuto itself. Finally, as proficiency increases in the technique, its wielders can subtly tweak spells cast through their blade. These modifications are typically exceptionally minor, in the order of changing a spell’s shape or the directed focus of its manifestation.

Examples

Kido-Giri - Sho: A faint white light shimmers diffusely along the Zanpakuto’s blade. Upon release, the spell will manifest as a small directed shockwave originating from the blade. Stronger if aligned with the length of the blade, but may be released from any plane on the body of the sword, but never in an omnidirectional fashion. This effect can propel the blade in a direction, which may be a boon or a bane depending on the circumstance.

Kido-Giri - Seki: The Zanpakuto’s blade briefly shimmers light blue, which then fades. Upon contact with another object–or if the caster ‘detonates’ the spell–a blue flash will occur along with Seki’s normal effect. Notably. Seki used in this manner does not cause any form of paralysis. If ‘detonated’ the flash will occur, the small ovular spheroid will appear aligned somewhere next to the blade (within an inch or less) and then it will release its repelling force. Skillful use may allow a caster to enhance the force of a strike with their Zanpakuto.

Reiheika(霊兵戈 'Spirit warfare'): Reiatsu is the pressure or force exerted by one’s spiritual potency, thus Reiheika is a technique that seeks to turn that force itself into a weapon or tool. As proficiency develops, this technique may enable its users greater precision, control, potency, and range when manipulating their reiatsu. At its lowest grade, which is presently Yuen’s purview, it may be used only within his direct vicinity (2ft radius) and may serve only to slow or slightly redirect the trajectory of attacks (or his own movements).

Explainer

Think of this as creating waves/shockwaves/pulses of kinetic energy…manifesting a dense ‘pressure’ around oneself…or generating invisible (but highly detectable by spiritual senses) energy constructs via reiatsu.

Rei Senkaiken(霊 旋回剣 ‘Spirit Turning-blade’): Requires both significant Focus and Skill, Rei Senkaiken centers around channeling reiatsu into and around one’s strikes with precision in order to counter non-martial techniques. Functions primarily upon the edge of the Zanpakuto, focusing reiatsu in a flowing pattern down the body of the katana to pool in a wavering point like a heat haze at the tip. By stabbing with the blade tip after channeling the necessary reiatsu, a pulse of force can be released into reiryoku-based techniques to disrupt their structure. If done swiftly enough, the wielder can ‘draw’ patterns of briefly lingering reiatsu in the air around them. Running into these faintly shimmering lines of pressure causes them to burst, which can throw off movements or attacks.

❖ Memorized Kido:

• Sho
• Seki

Bleach - Resonant Souls

I...shall PM you! :)

Bleach - Resonant Souls

Does this…still live?

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

Temporal Larceny
^{Ancient Pthumeru - Yharnam}

A Collab by @Dark Jack, @yoshua171, and @Tuujaimaa

---

Farren found himself paying more attention to their surroundings even than was typical for him, for the walk to the ultimately humble Workshop was a strange thing. Enlightening? In a sense. Surreal? Certainly. Most of all though…he felt equally comfortable and uneasy, a dissonance which he had seldom known in his life, if at all–a fractured memory certainly did not help in ascertaining such.

On the one hand, it was oddly heartening to see so many people in good cheer, and on what he’d come to know as a harrowing time. On the other…. The sight of reveling was in direct contrast to the cowering and wariness that he could recall from his life before–and in regards to the latter, his current one as well. It made his blood itch–his altered arms too, though for their part that may have been simple disharmony with the rest of his form.

“Such a strange thing…” the azure-eyed hunter murmured to himself as they walked. It wasn’t a long way, but time felt…uniquely stretched somehow, like it was rewinding on itself even as events progressed forward, resulting in a strange almost-stasis. Look at the events and nothing appeared amiss, but look at the grander picture–the movement of the moon and stars (or lack thereof) and the sky itself betrayed the truth. Farren shook his head slightly and turned his mind to their destination. After a brief time–if any time at all was passing–they arrived. It was a small affair, practically a shack, especially in comparison to the Workshops he remembered from their age. He glanced about the place, taking in the fine weapons of this age long past. When he approached one of the trick-glaives, a Pthumerian attendant glanced his way, speaking up when Farren reached out for one of the weapons.

The attendant - unnaturally tall like most Pthumerians and clad in silver armor - smiled politely at Farren. He spoke in Pthumerian, but the voice in their heads translated: "The blessing blades caught your eye? Fine weapons, a specialty of the Divine City, and cheap, too. Just ten gold coins and one can be yours."

Farren tilted his head, nodding once gruffly as he crossed his arms, “Fine blades, I can tell,” he offered, knowing the voice would translate, “...this the whole lot, then?” He inquired, gesturing with one hand in a vague motion that was meant to encompass the weapons visible to them.

The attendant frowned. "This is awkward... I thought foreigners would be assigned translators if they didn't speak Pthumerian." Instead of answering Farren's question the attendant just shook his head and made a dismissive gesture for Farren and the others to leave.

Farren tilted his head a fraction, frowning before he glanced in Ophelia’s general direction as subtly as he could. He sighed and held up a finger to the man in a gesture to signify he wait a moment. Then, slowly, he pulled one of his Hunter’s Pistols from its place on the hook at his side. Farren unloaded its Quicksilver and placed the bullet back into the tube before he offered it to the attendant as he gestured towards the glaive with his other hand.

“Ophelia. I heard the blade translate him, but…did it translate for me?”

"Ah, yes, it won't translate to anybody that I haven't revealed myself to." Ophelia replied with a small smile. "Would you like me to reveal myself?"

“Ah, yeah. Maybe leave the building and talk as you come in though. No need to startle them unduly,” Farren replied.

"No need to startle them at all, dear. I can just take one of the glaives for you if you want, or I can go ahead and reveal myself." Ophelia offered as she began to move away from the entrance.

Gerlinde smiled charmingly at the attendant, but spoke to Ophelia: "If you're stealing stuff already, grab me one of those beautiful falchions, too."

A phrase, whispered, echoed in his mind, as if it were being blown in by a far away wind: 'Take every advantage.' Farren didn't have coin. He could certainly trade away from what he had, but even if they accepted such, he might have to give something he didn't feel was worth it. Further, even if he'd had coin, he had no idea of the value of what he might obtain that way. “Do it, but let us leave first. You can hand the weapons off, then come back,” he didn't offer up why he wanted her to come back. He'd already spoken enough and it felt like it was unwise to just be speaking plans out loud...even if they couldn't understand him, nor hear Ophelia.

That said, he glanced at the weapons again, grimaced, glared at the man, shoved his weapon back onto its hook, spun on his heel, and left the place. Farren didn't walk far, just a street over, to ensure they were properly out of sight of the place. Once there, he waited.

Ophelia moved to action while Farren was still contemplating and fiddling with his weapons, ignoring his instruction to wait--at least so she could get into position behind the attendant where the weapons were kept. She ignored the disassembled one and waited for Farren to leave, picked up three of the completed weapons, then casually walked out a few seconds after holding their prizes together in her free hand. She wondered for a brief moment if she should return her blade to its standard arcane form, missing the comfortable weight of the Holy Moonlight Sword pressed against her, and not wanting to suffer another nasty shock by touching the blade... but without the ability to acquire more quicksilver easily, she thought better of it... and found herself quickly catching up with the others.

"I didn't want to leave you out, love..." she spoke as she handed one of them off to Torquil, and then the others to Gerlinde and Farren.

Torquil received his Blessing Blade eyes that were wide in surprise, handling the weapon hesitantly and carefully as though he was afraid he might break it. Gerlinde's smile diminished for but a split-second when she saw Ophelia emerging from the workshop with three glaives and none of the long, slender falchions she had wanted, but she swiftly caught herself and grinned widely as she accepted the Blessing Blade offered to her.”

"Thank you, Filly," handling the relatively heavy weapon a little awkwardly. "I appreciate that."

Ophelia did catch Gerlinde's smile diminish for a split second and she frowned momentarily in response. "Is it not what you wanted? Oh! You meant just the blade, then, I see... would you like me to go back and get one? I feel rather silly, it's obvious in hindsight..."

"I admit, I did mean the long, slender sword that looks like the one we saw that warrior wielding in the Old Labyrinth," Gerlinde confessed with a giggle. "I've met several of them, but theirs have always been ancient and worn, and I could never manage to get them to use fire-powers like they can. But maybe a pristine one works better!"

"Ah, yes! I'll tell you what--you three should move on before anyone comes looking. Most people won't think twice and will assume you've paid for these if you hurry along now--but sticking around for them to come looking seems foolish. I'll go grab the extra blade and meet up with you... any idea where you want to go so I can head there after?"

Farren, for his part, seemed rather pleased as he accepted the weapon. Though he was listening to their conversation, he immediately took to looking over the craftsmanship of the glaive. “Lingering does seem unwise,” Farren said absently, tearing his gaze from the weapon before he activated its mechanism and split it into its two parts. He pushed the large haft into a section of the sling on his back, then hung the sword-half on one of the hooks at his left hip.

“If you're going back...perhaps ask that blade of yours if it senses anything else hiding in that little workshop. Ah...and if you would grab another of the blades, the ones Gerlinde fancies.” He cast Gerlinde a small grin, before his face grew serious again and he cast his eyes out far afield, down the length of the street. “I say we simply move down the road a few blocks then meet up and consider next steps.”

He wet his lips, “The palace seems...a good destination, but without another implement to inscribe runes, only Ophelia's equipped to slip past their defenses.” Farren shook his head, “Either way...let's get to moving.”

Ophelia nodded at the request with her usual smile, easy and unforced, though unfocused. "I must assume that the palace has protections against arcane illusions, so I wouldn't count on my ability to slip by unhindered there... but that can wait. A few blocks over seems fine--I'm sure my blade can guide me to you. Now, quick-quick, time's of the essence!" she spoke quickly, hurrying them along with a flippant shooing motion with her free hand as she turned and went back the way she came. "Blast the lack of the little ones..." she muttered to herself as she went to retrace her steps and check what was going on with the lone attendant, if the Blessing Blades had been noticed as missing, and if the guard was alert.

Returning to the workshop, Ophelia would in fact be met by the armored attendant hurrying out of the area and toward the street where she had just left the other Hunters. He walked with quick, determined strides and carried a Blessing Blade of his own... though even now he did not appear to notice her.

Farren–and presumably the others–had of course already made their way along the street. Since they couldn't truly blend into the crowd, he made a point of turning down another street rather than staying in easy view if they were followed.

With only a quick flash of a look around Ophelia found nothing like a coin box that she might be able to pilfer quickly and instead focused on taking her prize--picking up the pair of falchions as directed--and then immediately made her way to follow the guard that had gone to follow her companions. Hopefully on such an auspicious night he would not give particular chase, though she doubted their luck. One with so little to do was more likely to be dogged in their pursuit, to her mind.

By the time Ophelia had retrieved the falchions and went to leave, she would already find the workshop attendant sullenly returning from the street. His fists were clenched and he wore a scowl, making it clear that he was far from at peace with what had happened, but also did not appear to be willing to scour the entire city to find the thieves... especially if that meant leaving the workshop unattended.

Ophelia almost felt bad for the attendant, but only almost, as she skulked by unseen once again with more ill-gotten goods. She thought no more of him and his woes as she made for the street she knew her companions and went about following where they had gone, dreamily taking in the assorted sights and smells and sounds of a bustling city at celebration as she did--and asking her blade if it could sense where they had gone when she reached their last known location to avoid dallying unnecessarily.

"You last saw them here," the voice reported in Ophelia's head. "None of them have presences that are distinct enough to locate through arcane senses, especially not in this city and at this time."

Ophelia chuckled to herself at the thought, finding a certain amusement in their lack of uniqueness from a certain perspective, before continuing her search manually. She looked for any little signs that might betray their passage in the more mundane sense--a whiff of that particular moon-scent, a footprint or hurried smearing of dirt, or the like.

Finding the rest of the party was not particularly difficult, just a little time and effort. From them arriving at the workshop to the point where Ophelia had joined back up with the three other Hunters, about fifteen minutes had passed, meaning they had now been in ancient Pthumeru for 45 minutes.

Ophelia handed the new arms off to her companions happily, though she did find herself eager to get things moving.

"We had better head to the palace, then, hadn't we? I do find myself quite eager to hear this lesser vicar speak, too, but with our currently uncertain relationship to time perhaps it's an indulgence we simply can't afford. Though... by my reckoning, it'd take us more time to find Tempus and return than there is left for the ritual to finish, so it probably matters little. The Moonborn Hunter will be eager for the fight, if nothing else--if we're lucky, perhaps they'll take care of everything for us?" Ophelia mused as she caught up, once again aware of the irony of rambling while talking about wasted time but once again powerless to do anything about it.

Farren simply nodded and then they were on their way, heading for the Palace.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

_Farren

felt it, even in the less familiar environs of the forest, felt the disparity that time alone had created. Felt the difference, the reversion from when they had lived to this strange surreal world to which the Great Serpent had taken them. He’d hunted in these woods before…snuck out of the city and around the standard defenses. He’d had to on meager months when work was sparse, coin nearly non-existent in his pockets. When his belly had ached for food and work had simply not been present to sustain him. Those had been lean, terrible times, but…as the hazy memories hit him–perhaps brought closer by the nature of where they tread–Farren felt…oddly nostalgic for them. So much had changed. His world was so much more complicated now.

‘Oh to return to simpler times…’ he thought…and then they crested the hill and his mind stopped as surely as his feet. Bolted to the spot, back ramrod straight, Farren’s eyes grew wide with shocked surprise, then slow building awe as he took in the reality of things. For though he had been told that they’d been swept back to another time, pressed somehow by the Will of the Great Serpent to Ancient Pthumeru, there was simply nothing that could have prepared him–or anything, by his reckoning–for the majesty of the city.

It was not Yharnam. Not just that it was different from the city he had come to know, not just that time had changed it. This was a place wrought from wholly different minds. Every structure–down to the materials, the glimmer of glass, the quiet startling gleam of polished white stone–had been hewn with a care and attentive detail that spoke of loving craft. By comparison, Yharnam, hells…even the Capital in which he’d been born and raised were mere mockeries of civilization.

Yet, as a man who had grown up with the ever-looming reality that was the harrowing Night of the Hunt…what he found even more profound were the lack of censers, the lack of fear, and the intense–even joyous–activity in the streets. While they were too far for him to properly see details, even with his senses enhanced by the potency of the Old Blood–tampered with though his was–he could still tell by the way the crowds moved and those sounds that did carry over the distance.

Farren’s hand loosened around the Piercing Rifle he’d been holding, the other in the harness at his back, and it was that simple thing that brought him back to himself as Ophelia spoke. The bizarre sensation of his mutated fingers relaxing, then Ophelia’s voice helping him focus for once.

“I…somehow doubt I’ll be welcome,” Farren murmured beneath his breath. Why…why did he feel so oddly…dejected? His mind supplied not a clear answer, nor the words of others from his past, but a view of Yharnam as he’d arrived years ago…and then a crushing sense of being displaced and unwanted when he’d walked along its twisting labyrinthine streets.

Farren raised his hand, looking upon the black chitin over its surface which had replaced his flesh. He flexed, feeling the alterations even to how it moved. He sighed and when Ophelia led–so long as the others had no reason to delay–he followed, quiet and surprisingly withdrawn.

Night of the Hunt - Paleblood

_Farren

felt the ebb and shiver in his blood as they were consumed by starlight and ousted from the Waking World and into the Hunter’s Dream. It felt…different this time though, and the wavering, warping force did not stop as it had before. Neither his body, nor his mind’s capacities, felt changed, but then….

Farren coiled in on himself, falling to his knees, and he tried to clutch at both arms at once, instead resulting in no movement at all, his arms held away from his body and before him. Farren watched–and felt intimately–as his sleeves tore as little spines with glowing blue tips ripped painfully from his limbs, downwards from shoulder to wrist. He felt his skin harden, his bones soften, and the muscles, tissues, and even the blood in his arms subtly, then drastically change. He cried out as his hands each grew an extra digit, then extra knuckles on each finger as they lengthened. Farren cursed in a vicious whisper as sharp, curved, hook-like claws burst forth from where once his nailbeds had been, eclipsing his fingertips slightly as if he’d always had the nasty jet-black carapace talons.

“Agh…fuck. Damned…cursed blood,” Farren gritted out hoarsely, the changes beginning to settle. In the tearing, viscerally painful heat of the transformation, he’d briefly dropped both the Effigial and True Blade of Mercy. Slowly, the pain began to ebb, leaving behind only the strange, alien sensations of blood and hemolymph interchanging within his body, as if he had always been that way. Farren moved to clutch at his skull, which ached from grinding his teeth during the process, but stopped well before as he saw the curled talons of his fingers, and the glowing ridge along the back edge of the claws which blinked in bright blue bioluminescence like some deep sea fish.

The aches ceased, replaced only by the far too noticeable internal pulse of fluids through both limbs whenever he moved. The motions felt jerky and uncontrolled even as his body adjusted and his brain accounted for the changes. Farren’s deep agonized grimace relaxed only into a disgusted glower as he stared helplessly at his own transmogrified arms.

“That…mmgh…” he winced as he flexed, then relaxed each finger in sequence. “Mmm…I…envy the two of you,” Farren said frankly, not looking up at Gerlinde or Ophelia, still trying to process the changes. He began, despite the discomfort, trying different, larger, and subtler motions and eventually he reached down and grasped both weapons. It took two tries before he found a somewhat comfortable manner to hold the implements and he knew already that some actions would be significantly more difficult than they once had been. Shifting the nature of his grip from forward to reverse was one he could immediately think of. Fortunately, there were limited uses for a reversed grip, so things certainly could have been worse. The real problem would be sheathing and drawing other weapons.

Farren pushed slowly to his feet, knees wobbling a moment from adrenaline, then calming as his body swiftly returned to equilibrium. Farren rolled his shoulders and carefully sheathed both weapons. He flexed the faintly glowing claws and carefully pushed up one of his sleeves to confirm that–yes–the entirety of the skin on his arm had become a glossy jet-black carapace. Though…the spines on his arms did seem to occasionally drip some form of rather viscous looking mucous. He wrinkled his nose at the sight, ‘Disgusting’.

His only recourse was that if he were disarmed, temporarily or otherwise, at least he could still rip and tear into his adversary.

“Well…I suppose…it could be worse,” he muttered, despite the fact that it did not make him feel the least bit better.

Farren glanced to Ophelia then, “One of us…not myself or Torquil, that is…should try to approach Yahar’gul and see if she blocks their path. It…will give me time to adjust…and provide us with the valuable intel that she can be wherever she chooses, as swiftly as we can use a lantern to get there.”

He again raised a hand to rub at a temple, but stopped just shy of clawing himself. His eyes narrowed and his lips fell in displeasure and he lowered his taloned hand with a heavy sigh. Farren hated the change, hated that the very blood that empowered him and kept him from death, could also betray him like this. Hated the warping and twisting of his body, and the mental adjustments he had to make to account for it all. However, he was not so foolish–nor so selfish or stubborn–to suggest a return to the Hall of the Old Lords. This was a change he could manage, at least, no matter how unwelcome it was.

“That aside...” he exhaled sharply and pulled in another breath as he noticed himself unconsciously adjusting the position of his arms, for comfort...which only resulted in another pulse of strange unsettling sensation that accomplished quite the opposite, “--I think using mid-ranged weaponry to strike at her eyes...or firearms at range to do much the same is likely the best way.” Farren figured that while perhaps they could not catch her off guard, that they could at least attack before she managed to ensnare them.