Makoto
Jul 25, 2010 20:26:46 GMT -8
Post by makoto on Jul 25, 2010 20:26:46 GMT -8
Profile Information
Name:
Formally Daidouji Makoto, but most commonly self-referred to by the given family name of Yuhi
Gender:
Female
Age:
587
Faction:
Vizard
Rank:
Kidou Specialist
Reiatsu Color:
A startling electric blue that shifts into an unsettling vibrant purple when the Hollow Mask is activated
Reiatsu Aura:
Mania; an over the top sudden onset of energy and enthusiasm for which regulation is impossible and anxiety inevitable
Appearance:
Makoto is taller and more slender than the average female, standing at 5'11 and weighing in a few pounds under what could be considered ideal. Despite the lack of physical exertion her former position requires, she somehow manages to maintain a muscular build, no doubt due to the hypomania that governs her actions. She dislikes the bagginess of the standard Shihakushou, instead opting to wear one tailored more like a formal female kimono, though much more revealing.
Her hair is naturally black, although after an impromptu messy session in an unnamed art studio, she discovered the aesthetic purposes of putting paint in one's hair; blue seems to be the favored color.
Personality:
Extremely fractious, brazen, vulgar, Makoto is indeed a very confusing persona. Bearing the mark of Hypomania, her speech patterns and physical motor functions will vary from flamboyant to subdued, depending on current emotional stability or mental status; there is no 'normal' behavior, no in-between either extreme.
When emotionally stimulated, she tends to behave more erratically than expected; this includes an increase in motor functions and variability, an increase in metabolic rates, a raised voice, and an inclination to be self-destructive; in its entirety, her downward destructive spirals are lumped into an uninhibited category, namely promiscuity and a lack of judgment when it may come to bodily harm, the latter most often taken as unbridled bravery or stupidity.
A recurring normalcy for the girl, however, is her extreme distaste for personal contact when not stemming from an impromptu tryst in some darkened corner; a typical reaction would be a lashing out in a very violent manner, most often of the bone-breaking type -- all as a means of self-preservation. Additionally, her femininity is always flaunted, no doubt the cause for the sometimes-unwanted physical contact.
She lies often, for no real reason, to anyone in particular at all; each attempt at weeding the truth out will merit another lie, more outlandish than the first. Despite this, she is loyal to her superiors, and will do as told, regardless of personal distaste, quickly and effectively. Unfortunately, her distaste is most often made well-known by fragrant exclamations and violent outbursts.
History:
The Lie
Makoto was born to two Shinigami in a very well-to-do family. Things happened, shinigami died, shinigami remarried, and unLife proceeded as normally as possible.
Schooling was had, parties were had, Shinigami went their separate ways, battles were had, spirits were all, "Hey, babe," and nightmares begun.
And blue berries, always with those.
Some nasty bout o' amnesia, then. Don't remember the rest.
The Call to Adventure
Makoto's earliest memories were of being born into a very well-to-do family to two Shinigami parents and raised accordingly; it was her father’s wish that, if she never came to be able to mold reiatsu, she would be married into one of the four noble houses of Seireitei, while her mother remained indifferent to the girl’s future. Decades passed with no altering event, although Makoto would often sneak out of the dwelling and watch her father train.
Naturally, she grew to adore him and wanted emulate him, but the estrangement from her mother, even at such a young age, kept her from moving forward and into the life she wanted: one to please her father. Slowly, however, that desire deeply churning inside would ebb away at the barrier between her and her reiatsu, and eventually, she would begin to feel the pangs of hunger that her parents felt.
Her father was ecstatic when Makoto reached tentatively for a small bit of rice one evening; mother not so much. Gradually, Makoto’s father taught her to control her reiatsu and prepared her for entry to the academy.
Refusal of the Call
Unfortunately, he would not live to see his daughter’s progression from childhood to that of an adult and accomplished Shinigami (and eventual betrayal). Just days prior to her examination, she followed along after him as he went into the depths of Rukongai on a standard patrolling mission. Her father realized he was being followed by his daughter and allowed it, expecting nothing out of the ordinary to happen.
And nothing did, as far as missions went; instead, the poor man was slaughtered on the way back, protecting his daughter from an angry mob of citizens. Horrorstruck, Makoto fled, and a few days later, found herself back at her home, failing the examination just in time for the funeral.
Talk about a let down.
In the matter of months after her father’s death and funeral, Makoto’s mother, Kuniko, remarried, this time into the Daidouji family, indirectly forcing Makoto further into a depressive slump and halting any progression she had been making towards a re-examination.
Supernatural Aid
Several years later, roughly eighty-seven years after the date of her birth, there was to be a new addition to her household: her mother was to give birth to another child. While Makoto was far from the proper lady her step-father wished her to be (the girl was quite obstinate and unbelievably hyper), she maintained a degree of respect for her 'uncle', Daidouji Malik, but her curiosity got the better of her.
While Daidouji Kuniko was screaming from the pain of labor, Makoto was running towards the private birthing room to see what all the fuss was about. When she reached the door and wrenched it open, the screaming had abated, and --
“OH MY GAWD WHAT IS THAT DID THAT THING COME OUT OF YOUR STOMACH OKAASAN?!” she declared, skidding to a stop and pointing at the bloody mess that was Malik, who unfortunately was made to assist in the delivery. “IT’S DISGUSTING!!”
All sad heads turned to look at the outburst, startled. Eerily calm, the bloody Malik walked out the door, picked up Makoto, and with the use of Shunpo, forcibly relocated her back into her own, room and locked the door.
A few days later, a semi-humbled Makoto emerged and walked about cautiously. First, she would see what the child really looked like, not having had any other sibling or any sort of knowledge what the birthing process was like, and find out why everyone looked so somber about it. And as soon as she’d managed to pry that information from, she’d go apologize to Malik and ask him for some training; while being stuck in her room for those few days, Makoto had decided, upon gaining the knowledge that her uncle was a Shinigami, and a pretty good one at that, to reapply herself and try to enter the academy once again.
Unfortunately, that would not be the case, as the first person she found was Malik. After a very tense and subdued discussion, and many, many tears, Malik offered Makoto reassurance and was willing to provide whatever he could for her. Her training as a Shinigami began the following week, and slowly Makoto came out of her depression and into the annoyance that Malik would cherish above all else.
Cross the First Threshold
Eventually, the day came, much to Malik’s relief, that Makoto would no longer need to be mentored, and the long-awaited journey into adulthood could finally begin. The next six years would progress rather normally, with Makoto coming home on breaks or for formal parties that required her attendance, or just to perfect the pesterings she reserved for Malik before leaving.
Makoto had discovered in the last few years of her education that she was more than adept at Kidou, and very much useless at anything else, though through private lessons with Malik she retained some degree of confidence with a blade. She had been spoken to several times by recruiters from the Kidō Corps., and as they increased their attempts, she slowly yielded, yet remained bound by tradition to follow through with ceremonies.
The Belly of the Whale
Upon the graduation party Malik held in her honor, incidentally following in her mother's footsteps by skillfully evading Malik the entire evening, no less, Makoto found herself once more confined in her quarters, this time by choice over demand. Malik had mentioned some days prior that he had managed to obtain his Zanpakutou's most basic form within five years of entering the academy, and somewhat pointedly glanced at his cousin, who was graduated with no sealed blade. While maybe not a real disappointing glance, Makoto took it as such and decided to not show herself until she had achieved her blade.
It was unbelievably difficult for the girl to sit still, but the determination to gain her very own zanpakutou was overpowering the constant energy flooding her body. Some time later, exact amount forgotten over time, her body calmed itself enough to allow Malik's words to sink in:
"Concentrate on that dream, on that stranger. And speak to it as you would to yourself. For it is yourself you're finding when you find it."
"What a cryptic bastard, eh Kitsu?"
That was the first time she heard her Zanpakutou's spirit speak, and the next several hours were spent by chasing the voice through the confines of her mind, opening and closing the doors that Malik had suggested that her mind create. One door, the second to last one, opened to reveal a twisting, almost whimsical wood. Naturally, her mind put two and two together, and the doors vanished as she stepped into her internal realm.
She pursued the voice's taunts and calls until she was well lost, crying out after him in a demand for him to show himself. He would not, and instead suggested that she find him instead. Makoto stamped her way angrily through the shifting underbrush, muttering darkly and shouting out clean curses until she found what she was looking for.
What she found wasn't exactly what she was looking for, but it was a start. In a gentle, motionless clearing, she found a small grouping of weapons, each one looking like it had been tossed aside and forgotten. One in particular drew her attention, a sickle-chain decorated with blue and purple ribbons.
"Uh-uh, Kitsu-chan~ Not yet~" the disembodied voice chortled. "Gotta' do something first~" As he spoke, the ground around the weapons shifted, forcing some of them to slide down into the cracks, including the one Makoto had been eying.
Before the situated could be fully elucidated, Makoto dove after the kusarigama and into the shifting earth. A set of steely-white fingers grasped her shoulder and hauled her out, then forced her into a seated position. The man stared into her eyes and pressed a single to her lips, stemming any retort she might've made.
"You're a sharp kitsu, Kitsu, so no doubt you've gathered what and who I am. Now I'm not gonna' roll right on over and show my belly... well," he grinned suggestively and looked down at the bulky cloth covering her chest. "I could if you want...."
The male removed his finger from her lips and shushed her before she could retort. "Fine, fine, go get your weapon; but if it's the wrong one, you'll never come back~"
The Road of Trials
She sneered at the man as she shrugged out of the bulky kosode and began climbing down after the wanted weapon. Malik had told her that she'd find herself, and she was that blade.
Some time later, a very dirty Makoto climbed back up, glaring and muttering at the white man. He offered her a word, instead, grinning, and waved a farewell as the entire world disintegrated at his heart.
Makoto woke a day later, having fallen asleep from physical boredom or mental exhaustion, and found the same blade she'd chased through the agitated earth by her side. A coy smile flitted across her features as she watched it for some time before cleaning up and sneaking out to meet with the recruiter. It would be some time before she'd see Malik again, although the endless goals the Kidō Corps would present would keep her wholly occupied.
The hypomania would prove to be a driving factor, offering Makoto that additional motivation to get the job done and move on to the next series of goals. She started off as an unrecognized and unknown unseated member of the Kidō Corps., and through a series of goals, common to the hypomania blessing her unlife, managed to get noticed and further her own career.
Periodically, she rose through the ranks, graciously accepting whatever promotion headed her way, and the day came when she reached a point where she could no longer progress on her own.
The Meeting with the Goddess
His name was Kohaku, and he was the senior member assigned to her junior member status. He would be her mentor, the one to guide her and show her how the inner workings actually worked, he would be her mentor.
Makoto felt herself get attached to him, and while that was nothing out of the ordinary, she found herself always waiting and searching for him. The two grew close, forming a bond beyond that of a normal partnership. She trusted him to save her, and she would save him.
Rarely would a duo in the Kidō Corps. ever need to fight to protect one another, as trips outside the building were rare for those not in the top ranks. However, that didn't stop this pair from gallivanting out and about. They were in a wooded section of Rukongai, and Kohaku was explaining the practical uses of Tsuriboshi.
They were not being careful, although, with the end of the war and lack of hollow invading, there was no reason to. They were not expecting the surprise attack, and although they dispatched it with relative ease, both Makoto and Kohaku sustained wounds.
Makoto got off with a minor infection and parasitic infestation, though the latter would lie dormant for decades to come. It would later be revealed, in a moment of panic, that the hollow itself was her former sister, a mirror twin, who did not survive an unremembered attack that lead to Makoto's purification, becoming of a Shinigami, and eventually a Vizard. As the centuries wore on, the twin transformed and became obsessed with reuniting with her lost sister; as a hollow, she shot a quill, containing the majority of her essence, into Makoto's very being, thereby finally fusing herself within Makoto.
Woman as the Temptress
Makoto did not take the recovery period well. She entered a self-destructive and rebellious phase, often sneaking out of her confines and creating a massive amount of internal chaos. Eventually, she was released into the custody of Malik, who then wasted no time making sure she was unable to leave the estate.
As a retaliation, she quietly destroyed his art studio, removing all paints and coating the walls with them at some unknown, internal suggestion. In a panic at some approaching footsteps, she quickly used the last few ounces of paint to get wipe back her hair from its messy state; unfortunately, in the dark it looked black, and as the door slid open to a disgruntled Malik backed by a soft glow of light, it turned out to be blue.
"How thoughtful, Kitsu~" the Zanpakutou spirit chuckled, "It suits you~"
A few days later, as she slept with her stained hair, Makoto experienced the first of a long series of nightmares. They were simple, at first, just two little girls in a white room. One would grow and the other would waste away, then just before she vanished the growing one would--
For years, it never progressed past that point, Makoto would wake right before she found out what the taller one always did.
Atonement with the Father
Despite the aggravation the nightmares presented, and the parasite causing them, Makoto returned to the dungeon after a few short weeks, and unLife returned to normal. In the few decades following, while whispers of betrayal flitted within the higher echelons of the Gotei, Makoto made herself heard by her direct superiors, after gaining the use of her Shikai.
That in itself was an unexpected challenge, the Spirit being every bit as stubborn as she; in the end, after all the horrors he subjected her to, Makoto came out the victor. How it happened, she would never reveal, as secrets were meant to be kept, and these things were to be played close to the chest.
Apotheosis
Within the top of the top, Makoto forced herself beyond her boundaries, unrelentingly challenging any who stood in her way, all for the thrill of the chance to use her Zanpakutou the way he described that fateful day. However, no one actually accepted and she was left to vent in relative silence.
And while she was preoccupied with daily duties and forced bouts with Shiniku, she had almost forgotten the recurring nightmare and the connotations within. All was well with the world.
The Ultimate Boon
She had returned to the manor for some family function, and while milling about, managed to overhear a conversation regarding some aberration between Malik and his father, getting bits and pieces through their hushed tones. What she managed to garner was that there was a new breed of monster, and it must be destroyed.
It was as though a pin dropped in a silent room, and as it hit the cold, stone floor, it echoed, bouncing off the doors and rooms Makoto's mind had created. Something cracked, and continued creaking silently as the night wore on.
Back in her tiny room in the Dungeon Barracks, Makoto drifted in and out of consciousness, replaying and trying to figure out what Malik was working on. After a few hours, she made her way down deeper into the dungeons, trying to force herself into an exhausted sleep; she was met with success shortly after.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her unconscious mind, a door finally cracked open, wrenching Makoto into the very depths whence it came. The nightmare had begun.
Two little girls, dancing hand in hand beneath the twilight sky, laughing and giggling. A monster came, wrenched them apart, and killed them both. Someone dispatched the monster and purified the one, and as he smiled to the little girl, Makoto recognized him to be the man she'd always known as her father; all that she'd known wasn't what it was supposed to be.
She reached out to touch him, and as they faded away, Makoto's fingers touched glass. The glass shattered, shifting to the dream that never finished. The two girls, growing and shrinking, the taller eventually turning on the smaller and devouring her.
"No, don't!" she shouted, shattering the vision.
"Yare, yare, Makoko-chan~"
Makoto stood, face to face, with the creature that had been tormenting her for centuries. Aghastly, they stared at one another, the cuts and scars on the mirror's body glinting in the eerie light with Shiniku nowhere to be seen.
The mirror spoke, a vastly empty echo of Makoto's own voice, telling of the hardships she'd endured since that fateful day; instantly, Makoto's mind went back to that night when she and Kohaku had been attacked, and the hollow forcing itself upon her....
"Nyeh, ye don't remember me?!" the hollow wailed, forcing Makoto even further on edge. "Even in death, Makoko-chan, we were inseparable....
"Why did you forget me?! Makoko-chan wasn't supposed to forget! But Makoko-chan went away, and I stayed....
"But I found her again, when she was with that boy. I put myself inside her, and now... we'll never be apart...."
"Get out! I don't know who or what you are, but get the fuck out of me!" To back up the action, Makoto detached her zanpakutou, holding it up in a defensive position.
It cried and lunged, grabbing Makoto and tackling her to the ground, the force of the collision sending the kusarigama scattering. Chaotically, they fought with no skill, each trying to rip out the throat of the other. On and on it went, for what seemed to be ages, each meeting the other, tit-for-tat.
In a lull in the mirror's offense, Makoto saw and took the opportunity to blast it with what little Kidō she could muster, then erect a barrier around it, strengthening it from what she recalled from her rotation within the Thirteenth Division. For good measure, she took the hilt of her kusarigama and ensured that the mirror was unconscious as it struggled with the Kidō.
The fight for her life had begun in that tiny room, and within that tiny room, it had nearly ended, but for a shred of will that she was unaware that she had possessed.
The Magic Flight
Makoto had realized, however faintly, that what she had just survived was not a good thing. With premeditated behaviors, having sat and thought the following actions through, she gathered her meager belongings, which mostly included a hand-copied collection of all the known Kidō and a cloak, within the confines of the deep dungeon and silently left, stating that there had been a family emergency to any who questioned her bizarre behavior.
While erratic, each motion was deliberate, and as she snuck about the Daidouji Manor in hopes to not elicit any conversations on her way to Malik's private gate, she felt pangs in her heart at leaving in such fashion. With no thought, despite the urging of the voices in her head to flee, she ducked into his studio and stole what blue paints she could find. Hopefully, he would take it as a sign that she was going to be very, very engaged for the next several decades and to not worry, instead of his beloved cousin's descent into treachery.
Finished, she hastily fled through the gate, making her way toward the living realm for the second time in her existence, afraid of death and destruction.
Shortly after her departure, Makoto met up with the Vizard Creator, Gakushiki Rikou, where he then took her in under his own care, despite her unwillingness to enlighten him to her situation. Makoto did not know what was wrong, only that she was wrong and internally haunted. And until she'd figure it out, or otherwise accept it, she'd wander about in the confined safety of the tunnels.
The Crossing of the Return Threshold
Some two years, an unruly ally, a perverted monster or two, and a fantastic body later, Makoto found herself in dire straights. She was losing herself in those tunnels, away from the light, the sun, the wind, and the stars. While her first eighteen months had been governed by panic and an unwillingness to leave the confining safety of the tunnels, the final six had left her wanting.
She missed them all, Masato, her uncle's fukutaichou, the most. She started dreaming of him, and to get away from those fantasies that could never become reality, had taken to wandering when she should have been sleeping. Eventually, that turned to sleeping when she was wandering, and she had, one fateful evening, managed to wander out of the tunnels and into a damaged part of town.
Her dreams had come true, and she found Masato... and Malik. Unfortunately, it was an unpleasant reunion, the latter having made off with her unconscious form and throwing her into a prison without so much as a simple acknowledgement. What a jerk.
The Master of Two Worlds
Be....
The Freedom to Live
Determined....
Name:
Formally Daidouji Makoto, but most commonly self-referred to by the given family name of Yuhi
Gender:
Female
Age:
587
Faction:
Vizard
Rank:
Kidou Specialist
Reiatsu Color:
A startling electric blue that shifts into an unsettling vibrant purple when the Hollow Mask is activated
Reiatsu Aura:
Mania; an over the top sudden onset of energy and enthusiasm for which regulation is impossible and anxiety inevitable
Appearance:
Makoto is taller and more slender than the average female, standing at 5'11 and weighing in a few pounds under what could be considered ideal. Despite the lack of physical exertion her former position requires, she somehow manages to maintain a muscular build, no doubt due to the hypomania that governs her actions. She dislikes the bagginess of the standard Shihakushou, instead opting to wear one tailored more like a formal female kimono, though much more revealing.
Her hair is naturally black, although after an impromptu messy session in an unnamed art studio, she discovered the aesthetic purposes of putting paint in one's hair; blue seems to be the favored color.
Personality:
Extremely fractious, brazen, vulgar, Makoto is indeed a very confusing persona. Bearing the mark of Hypomania, her speech patterns and physical motor functions will vary from flamboyant to subdued, depending on current emotional stability or mental status; there is no 'normal' behavior, no in-between either extreme.
When emotionally stimulated, she tends to behave more erratically than expected; this includes an increase in motor functions and variability, an increase in metabolic rates, a raised voice, and an inclination to be self-destructive; in its entirety, her downward destructive spirals are lumped into an uninhibited category, namely promiscuity and a lack of judgment when it may come to bodily harm, the latter most often taken as unbridled bravery or stupidity.
A recurring normalcy for the girl, however, is her extreme distaste for personal contact when not stemming from an impromptu tryst in some darkened corner; a typical reaction would be a lashing out in a very violent manner, most often of the bone-breaking type -- all as a means of self-preservation. Additionally, her femininity is always flaunted, no doubt the cause for the sometimes-unwanted physical contact.
She lies often, for no real reason, to anyone in particular at all; each attempt at weeding the truth out will merit another lie, more outlandish than the first. Despite this, she is loyal to her superiors, and will do as told, regardless of personal distaste, quickly and effectively. Unfortunately, her distaste is most often made well-known by fragrant exclamations and violent outbursts.
History:
The Lie
Makoto was born to two Shinigami in a very well-to-do family. Things happened, shinigami died, shinigami remarried, and unLife proceeded as normally as possible.
Schooling was had, parties were had, Shinigami went their separate ways, battles were had, spirits were all, "Hey, babe," and nightmares begun.
And blue berries, always with those.
Some nasty bout o' amnesia, then. Don't remember the rest.
The Call to Adventure
Makoto's earliest memories were of being born into a very well-to-do family to two Shinigami parents and raised accordingly; it was her father’s wish that, if she never came to be able to mold reiatsu, she would be married into one of the four noble houses of Seireitei, while her mother remained indifferent to the girl’s future. Decades passed with no altering event, although Makoto would often sneak out of the dwelling and watch her father train.
Naturally, she grew to adore him and wanted emulate him, but the estrangement from her mother, even at such a young age, kept her from moving forward and into the life she wanted: one to please her father. Slowly, however, that desire deeply churning inside would ebb away at the barrier between her and her reiatsu, and eventually, she would begin to feel the pangs of hunger that her parents felt.
Her father was ecstatic when Makoto reached tentatively for a small bit of rice one evening; mother not so much. Gradually, Makoto’s father taught her to control her reiatsu and prepared her for entry to the academy.
Refusal of the Call
Unfortunately, he would not live to see his daughter’s progression from childhood to that of an adult and accomplished Shinigami (and eventual betrayal). Just days prior to her examination, she followed along after him as he went into the depths of Rukongai on a standard patrolling mission. Her father realized he was being followed by his daughter and allowed it, expecting nothing out of the ordinary to happen.
And nothing did, as far as missions went; instead, the poor man was slaughtered on the way back, protecting his daughter from an angry mob of citizens. Horrorstruck, Makoto fled, and a few days later, found herself back at her home, failing the examination just in time for the funeral.
Talk about a let down.
In the matter of months after her father’s death and funeral, Makoto’s mother, Kuniko, remarried, this time into the Daidouji family, indirectly forcing Makoto further into a depressive slump and halting any progression she had been making towards a re-examination.
Supernatural Aid
Several years later, roughly eighty-seven years after the date of her birth, there was to be a new addition to her household: her mother was to give birth to another child. While Makoto was far from the proper lady her step-father wished her to be (the girl was quite obstinate and unbelievably hyper), she maintained a degree of respect for her 'uncle', Daidouji Malik, but her curiosity got the better of her.
While Daidouji Kuniko was screaming from the pain of labor, Makoto was running towards the private birthing room to see what all the fuss was about. When she reached the door and wrenched it open, the screaming had abated, and --
“OH MY GAWD WHAT IS THAT DID THAT THING COME OUT OF YOUR STOMACH OKAASAN?!” she declared, skidding to a stop and pointing at the bloody mess that was Malik, who unfortunately was made to assist in the delivery. “IT’S DISGUSTING!!”
All sad heads turned to look at the outburst, startled. Eerily calm, the bloody Malik walked out the door, picked up Makoto, and with the use of Shunpo, forcibly relocated her back into her own, room and locked the door.
A few days later, a semi-humbled Makoto emerged and walked about cautiously. First, she would see what the child really looked like, not having had any other sibling or any sort of knowledge what the birthing process was like, and find out why everyone looked so somber about it. And as soon as she’d managed to pry that information from, she’d go apologize to Malik and ask him for some training; while being stuck in her room for those few days, Makoto had decided, upon gaining the knowledge that her uncle was a Shinigami, and a pretty good one at that, to reapply herself and try to enter the academy once again.
Unfortunately, that would not be the case, as the first person she found was Malik. After a very tense and subdued discussion, and many, many tears, Malik offered Makoto reassurance and was willing to provide whatever he could for her. Her training as a Shinigami began the following week, and slowly Makoto came out of her depression and into the annoyance that Malik would cherish above all else.
Cross the First Threshold
Eventually, the day came, much to Malik’s relief, that Makoto would no longer need to be mentored, and the long-awaited journey into adulthood could finally begin. The next six years would progress rather normally, with Makoto coming home on breaks or for formal parties that required her attendance, or just to perfect the pesterings she reserved for Malik before leaving.
Makoto had discovered in the last few years of her education that she was more than adept at Kidou, and very much useless at anything else, though through private lessons with Malik she retained some degree of confidence with a blade. She had been spoken to several times by recruiters from the Kidō Corps., and as they increased their attempts, she slowly yielded, yet remained bound by tradition to follow through with ceremonies.
The Belly of the Whale
Upon the graduation party Malik held in her honor, incidentally following in her mother's footsteps by skillfully evading Malik the entire evening, no less, Makoto found herself once more confined in her quarters, this time by choice over demand. Malik had mentioned some days prior that he had managed to obtain his Zanpakutou's most basic form within five years of entering the academy, and somewhat pointedly glanced at his cousin, who was graduated with no sealed blade. While maybe not a real disappointing glance, Makoto took it as such and decided to not show herself until she had achieved her blade.
It was unbelievably difficult for the girl to sit still, but the determination to gain her very own zanpakutou was overpowering the constant energy flooding her body. Some time later, exact amount forgotten over time, her body calmed itself enough to allow Malik's words to sink in:
"Concentrate on that dream, on that stranger. And speak to it as you would to yourself. For it is yourself you're finding when you find it."
"What a cryptic bastard, eh Kitsu?"
That was the first time she heard her Zanpakutou's spirit speak, and the next several hours were spent by chasing the voice through the confines of her mind, opening and closing the doors that Malik had suggested that her mind create. One door, the second to last one, opened to reveal a twisting, almost whimsical wood. Naturally, her mind put two and two together, and the doors vanished as she stepped into her internal realm.
She pursued the voice's taunts and calls until she was well lost, crying out after him in a demand for him to show himself. He would not, and instead suggested that she find him instead. Makoto stamped her way angrily through the shifting underbrush, muttering darkly and shouting out clean curses until she found what she was looking for.
What she found wasn't exactly what she was looking for, but it was a start. In a gentle, motionless clearing, she found a small grouping of weapons, each one looking like it had been tossed aside and forgotten. One in particular drew her attention, a sickle-chain decorated with blue and purple ribbons.
"Uh-uh, Kitsu-chan~ Not yet~" the disembodied voice chortled. "Gotta' do something first~" As he spoke, the ground around the weapons shifted, forcing some of them to slide down into the cracks, including the one Makoto had been eying.
Before the situated could be fully elucidated, Makoto dove after the kusarigama and into the shifting earth. A set of steely-white fingers grasped her shoulder and hauled her out, then forced her into a seated position. The man stared into her eyes and pressed a single to her lips, stemming any retort she might've made.
"You're a sharp kitsu, Kitsu, so no doubt you've gathered what and who I am. Now I'm not gonna' roll right on over and show my belly... well," he grinned suggestively and looked down at the bulky cloth covering her chest. "I could if you want...."
The male removed his finger from her lips and shushed her before she could retort. "Fine, fine, go get your weapon; but if it's the wrong one, you'll never come back~"
The Road of Trials
She sneered at the man as she shrugged out of the bulky kosode and began climbing down after the wanted weapon. Malik had told her that she'd find herself, and she was that blade.
Some time later, a very dirty Makoto climbed back up, glaring and muttering at the white man. He offered her a word, instead, grinning, and waved a farewell as the entire world disintegrated at his heart.
Makoto woke a day later, having fallen asleep from physical boredom or mental exhaustion, and found the same blade she'd chased through the agitated earth by her side. A coy smile flitted across her features as she watched it for some time before cleaning up and sneaking out to meet with the recruiter. It would be some time before she'd see Malik again, although the endless goals the Kidō Corps would present would keep her wholly occupied.
The hypomania would prove to be a driving factor, offering Makoto that additional motivation to get the job done and move on to the next series of goals. She started off as an unrecognized and unknown unseated member of the Kidō Corps., and through a series of goals, common to the hypomania blessing her unlife, managed to get noticed and further her own career.
Periodically, she rose through the ranks, graciously accepting whatever promotion headed her way, and the day came when she reached a point where she could no longer progress on her own.
The Meeting with the Goddess
His name was Kohaku, and he was the senior member assigned to her junior member status. He would be her mentor, the one to guide her and show her how the inner workings actually worked, he would be her mentor.
Makoto felt herself get attached to him, and while that was nothing out of the ordinary, she found herself always waiting and searching for him. The two grew close, forming a bond beyond that of a normal partnership. She trusted him to save her, and she would save him.
Rarely would a duo in the Kidō Corps. ever need to fight to protect one another, as trips outside the building were rare for those not in the top ranks. However, that didn't stop this pair from gallivanting out and about. They were in a wooded section of Rukongai, and Kohaku was explaining the practical uses of Tsuriboshi.
They were not being careful, although, with the end of the war and lack of hollow invading, there was no reason to. They were not expecting the surprise attack, and although they dispatched it with relative ease, both Makoto and Kohaku sustained wounds.
Makoto got off with a minor infection and parasitic infestation, though the latter would lie dormant for decades to come. It would later be revealed, in a moment of panic, that the hollow itself was her former sister, a mirror twin, who did not survive an unremembered attack that lead to Makoto's purification, becoming of a Shinigami, and eventually a Vizard. As the centuries wore on, the twin transformed and became obsessed with reuniting with her lost sister; as a hollow, she shot a quill, containing the majority of her essence, into Makoto's very being, thereby finally fusing herself within Makoto.
Woman as the Temptress
Makoto did not take the recovery period well. She entered a self-destructive and rebellious phase, often sneaking out of her confines and creating a massive amount of internal chaos. Eventually, she was released into the custody of Malik, who then wasted no time making sure she was unable to leave the estate.
As a retaliation, she quietly destroyed his art studio, removing all paints and coating the walls with them at some unknown, internal suggestion. In a panic at some approaching footsteps, she quickly used the last few ounces of paint to get wipe back her hair from its messy state; unfortunately, in the dark it looked black, and as the door slid open to a disgruntled Malik backed by a soft glow of light, it turned out to be blue.
"How thoughtful, Kitsu~" the Zanpakutou spirit chuckled, "It suits you~"
A few days later, as she slept with her stained hair, Makoto experienced the first of a long series of nightmares. They were simple, at first, just two little girls in a white room. One would grow and the other would waste away, then just before she vanished the growing one would--
For years, it never progressed past that point, Makoto would wake right before she found out what the taller one always did.
Atonement with the Father
Despite the aggravation the nightmares presented, and the parasite causing them, Makoto returned to the dungeon after a few short weeks, and unLife returned to normal. In the few decades following, while whispers of betrayal flitted within the higher echelons of the Gotei, Makoto made herself heard by her direct superiors, after gaining the use of her Shikai.
That in itself was an unexpected challenge, the Spirit being every bit as stubborn as she; in the end, after all the horrors he subjected her to, Makoto came out the victor. How it happened, she would never reveal, as secrets were meant to be kept, and these things were to be played close to the chest.
Apotheosis
Within the top of the top, Makoto forced herself beyond her boundaries, unrelentingly challenging any who stood in her way, all for the thrill of the chance to use her Zanpakutou the way he described that fateful day. However, no one actually accepted and she was left to vent in relative silence.
And while she was preoccupied with daily duties and forced bouts with Shiniku, she had almost forgotten the recurring nightmare and the connotations within. All was well with the world.
The Ultimate Boon
She had returned to the manor for some family function, and while milling about, managed to overhear a conversation regarding some aberration between Malik and his father, getting bits and pieces through their hushed tones. What she managed to garner was that there was a new breed of monster, and it must be destroyed.
It was as though a pin dropped in a silent room, and as it hit the cold, stone floor, it echoed, bouncing off the doors and rooms Makoto's mind had created. Something cracked, and continued creaking silently as the night wore on.
Back in her tiny room in the Dungeon Barracks, Makoto drifted in and out of consciousness, replaying and trying to figure out what Malik was working on. After a few hours, she made her way down deeper into the dungeons, trying to force herself into an exhausted sleep; she was met with success shortly after.
Somewhere in the deep recesses of her unconscious mind, a door finally cracked open, wrenching Makoto into the very depths whence it came. The nightmare had begun.
Two little girls, dancing hand in hand beneath the twilight sky, laughing and giggling. A monster came, wrenched them apart, and killed them both. Someone dispatched the monster and purified the one, and as he smiled to the little girl, Makoto recognized him to be the man she'd always known as her father; all that she'd known wasn't what it was supposed to be.
She reached out to touch him, and as they faded away, Makoto's fingers touched glass. The glass shattered, shifting to the dream that never finished. The two girls, growing and shrinking, the taller eventually turning on the smaller and devouring her.
"No, don't!" she shouted, shattering the vision.
"Yare, yare, Makoko-chan~"
Makoto stood, face to face, with the creature that had been tormenting her for centuries. Aghastly, they stared at one another, the cuts and scars on the mirror's body glinting in the eerie light with Shiniku nowhere to be seen.
The mirror spoke, a vastly empty echo of Makoto's own voice, telling of the hardships she'd endured since that fateful day; instantly, Makoto's mind went back to that night when she and Kohaku had been attacked, and the hollow forcing itself upon her....
"Nyeh, ye don't remember me?!" the hollow wailed, forcing Makoto even further on edge. "Even in death, Makoko-chan, we were inseparable....
"Why did you forget me?! Makoko-chan wasn't supposed to forget! But Makoko-chan went away, and I stayed....
"But I found her again, when she was with that boy. I put myself inside her, and now... we'll never be apart...."
"Get out! I don't know who or what you are, but get the fuck out of me!" To back up the action, Makoto detached her zanpakutou, holding it up in a defensive position.
It cried and lunged, grabbing Makoto and tackling her to the ground, the force of the collision sending the kusarigama scattering. Chaotically, they fought with no skill, each trying to rip out the throat of the other. On and on it went, for what seemed to be ages, each meeting the other, tit-for-tat.
In a lull in the mirror's offense, Makoto saw and took the opportunity to blast it with what little Kidō she could muster, then erect a barrier around it, strengthening it from what she recalled from her rotation within the Thirteenth Division. For good measure, she took the hilt of her kusarigama and ensured that the mirror was unconscious as it struggled with the Kidō.
The fight for her life had begun in that tiny room, and within that tiny room, it had nearly ended, but for a shred of will that she was unaware that she had possessed.
The Magic Flight
Makoto had realized, however faintly, that what she had just survived was not a good thing. With premeditated behaviors, having sat and thought the following actions through, she gathered her meager belongings, which mostly included a hand-copied collection of all the known Kidō and a cloak, within the confines of the deep dungeon and silently left, stating that there had been a family emergency to any who questioned her bizarre behavior.
While erratic, each motion was deliberate, and as she snuck about the Daidouji Manor in hopes to not elicit any conversations on her way to Malik's private gate, she felt pangs in her heart at leaving in such fashion. With no thought, despite the urging of the voices in her head to flee, she ducked into his studio and stole what blue paints she could find. Hopefully, he would take it as a sign that she was going to be very, very engaged for the next several decades and to not worry, instead of his beloved cousin's descent into treachery.
Finished, she hastily fled through the gate, making her way toward the living realm for the second time in her existence, afraid of death and destruction.
Shortly after her departure, Makoto met up with the Vizard Creator, Gakushiki Rikou, where he then took her in under his own care, despite her unwillingness to enlighten him to her situation. Makoto did not know what was wrong, only that she was wrong and internally haunted. And until she'd figure it out, or otherwise accept it, she'd wander about in the confined safety of the tunnels.
The Crossing of the Return Threshold
Some two years, an unruly ally, a perverted monster or two, and a fantastic body later, Makoto found herself in dire straights. She was losing herself in those tunnels, away from the light, the sun, the wind, and the stars. While her first eighteen months had been governed by panic and an unwillingness to leave the confining safety of the tunnels, the final six had left her wanting.
She missed them all, Masato, her uncle's fukutaichou, the most. She started dreaming of him, and to get away from those fantasies that could never become reality, had taken to wandering when she should have been sleeping. Eventually, that turned to sleeping when she was wandering, and she had, one fateful evening, managed to wander out of the tunnels and into a damaged part of town.
Her dreams had come true, and she found Masato... and Malik. Unfortunately, it was an unpleasant reunion, the latter having made off with her unconscious form and throwing her into a prison without so much as a simple acknowledgement. What a jerk.
The Master of Two Worlds
Be....
The Freedom to Live
Determined....