Atoshi Giriko [APPROVED 1-5+]

• Name: Atoshi Giriko
• Titles: Karitichijin, Reaper Upon the Wind
• Gender: Male
• Appearance Age: 16-18
• Age: 189
• Affiliation/Rank: Gotei 13

• Appearance Description: Giriko’s first distinguishing feature is that he is barely five feet and two inches tall and it is a fact that is harped on and drawn a majority of the attention attributed to the boy, primarily due to his rather angry and usually comical reaction to being called short. To compensate for his lack of height however, Giriko boasts a rather well toned and muscular body, perfectly suited for his work as a hand to hand combatant and for his other services in stealth and reconnaissance work. Despite having a rather messy occupation and preferred fighting style however, Giriko does not have many a blemish on his body and outside of his hands being somewhat calloused from constantly hitting things with them, he seems to be rather untouched by the hardships of his occupation.

Not contributing to that sense of stealth however is the boy’s rather noticeable purple hair. Parting down the middle with a few loose strands sticking up and about in odd places, the boy’s hair is mostly angled back and out, giving the impression that he is in a perpetual wind tunnel. Beneath the odd purple hair is a pair of vibrant green eyes that truly look full of life, depicting the boy’s rather excitable and energetic personality. Outside of that, his nose appears to be in the right place and his lips seem to be constantly on the move, riding a veritable roller coaster of emotions as there is always a look of excited happiness or excited fury painted there.

Even as a Shinigami, Giriko constantly finds ways to find himself in his old Rukongai trashy garb. Not quite dignified of a proper Shinigami, sure, but it was what the boy has always found comfortable. The boy wears a green, sleeveless robe whose official name he has not yet fully learned, Soul Society has not quite caught up to Wikipedia technology yet, that has black embroidery around the cloth. Across his midriff is a yellow obi, a name he actually happened to know, that tightly binds his sleeveless and hitherto unknown named robe in place.

• Appearance Picture:
_________________________________



• Personality:
The first intrinsically core part of Giriko’s personality is that he is very very loyal. Once, if ever, the boy declares any semblance of allegiance or loyalty to any one person, organization, entity, he is entirely and wholly loyal to one of the aforementioned ones. He sees any such commitment as a binding contract and promise between himself and whatever he finds himself loyal to and he is very determined to maintain that. This comes from an incredibly deep seated sense of honesty that the boy holds rather dear to his heart. Growing up on the streets, while being rather stereotypical, did force him to steal to survive and it is a part of his life that he loathes to this day. Consequently, he has taken the direct inverse path in his present day mindset and equates the dishonesty of stealing to the greatest insult possible and to every other form of dishonesty. Consequently, being caught in a lie by him tends to lead to animosity at best and outright violence at worst.

The aforementioned sense of honesty and loyalty is the only thing that keeps the boy’s overwhelming sense of ambition in check. Giriko is dead set on becoming a captain of the Gotei Thirteen and becomes rather irate and hostile if anyone points out the clichéd nature of that aspiration and the unlikelihood of someone of his background and stature reaching such a prestigious rank, especially with his relationship with his Zanpakutō. Regardless, Giriko is determined and he goes the extra mile on literally everything he does, regardless of his competency and strives rather dutifully to excel at everything he does. Not always successfully, but the effort is always there one hundred percent of the way in a rather stubborn capacity too. He has been met with a fair amount of success too though. He is on the younger end of official shinigami, having graduated from the Shin’ho academy in little over a year and joined the Gotei 13 immediately after, ranking as one of the younger shinigami in the organization, which is a feat young Giriko is rather proud of and rather eager to justify and defend.

Despite the arrogance and rather rampant hostility that can be provoked from Giriko without the slightest bit of effort, the boy is rather a devout pacifist, at least in terms of using lethal force. Giriko as a whole is not fond of killing any living organism, outside of hollows at least because that is justified as purifying, and will often strive to find ways to resolve situations as peaceably as possible with the least amount of corpses to burn. Unfortunately, there often are triggers that cause the boy to completely disregard his drive to avoid killing, maiming, and otherwise ruining someone’s face when they are…well…triggered. Giriko is a proud creature and that pride very easily turns to arrogance. While not a surefire way to elicit violence form him, Giriko is rather proud of his accomplishments, so much so that belittling them or insulting them or him tends to cause him to react defensibly with a considerable amount of hostility. The boy worked hard to get where he is and anything he perceives as disrespect is met with foul words at best and attempted murder at worst. The first of two surefire ways to upset him however is to comment on his height in any negative…or realistic fashion. Giriko is a rather short person and it is something he is rather self conscious about. Any comments about his height will result in a rather vocal and derogatory shouting match, showcasing his rather vulgar vocabulary or can occasionally result in outright violence. In addition, any act of violence toward his friends, the Gotei Thirteen, or Soul Society in general will result in direct violence from the boy.

Those occasional violent tendencies are the only things that connect him to his Zanpakutō spirit and it is a rather tenuous connection at best. The two truly just do not get along and it has thus far been Giriko’s biggest obstacle in advancing in the Shinigami world as it certainly wasn’t his personal capabilities. Giriko’s relationship with his Zanpakutō has always been a source of anguish for him and he will tend to shrug off any questions about it and more or less ignore anyone who questions it. Toward the spirit itself, Giriko tends to be loud, obnoxious, and demanding, having forgone attempting to be cordial long, long ago. This in turn often makes it seem like any attempt to communicate with the Zanpakutō is an exercise in self loathing. As a result however, Giriko find the most joy in fighting with his hands. He has always had a great love for hand to hand combat and quite frequently you will find him focusing on everything but fighting with his Zanpakutō. Thankfully, the sealed state of his Zanpakutō actually reflects this and the most combat his Zanpakutō will see is typically to supplement his hand to hand form. As such, there is always a certain sense of neglect toward his Zanpakutō and he will tend to only draw it if absolutely necessary. However, it does seem to always be at his hip suggesting a certain longing to connect with it. Whether if this is because he simply wants his Shikai or because he genuinely wants a relationship with himself is unsure.

All of those things feed in to how the boy lives his life. His Zanpakutō is almost always with him but almost always neglected and every day the boy is training himself with little regard for his own well being, generally accepting new and increasingly more ridiculous challenges daily as a way to further his ambition. His quarters in division headquarters resembles a miniature dojo more than a living place, with numerous wooden men and punching posts to just further illustrate just how dedicated he is to his craft. In addition, the few bonds he does forge are ones of incredible importance seeing him by himself when he is not engaging in the aforementioned training is extremely rare. Why shouldn’t he be gracing those people who are important enough to be deemed friends with his presence?

Over the course of the last ten years however, Giriko has grown substantially and as such, his personality as a whole has shifted substantially. His overeager zeal has been tempered and caused him to almost form a certain sense of manic depression. Giriko in general has become a very lax and almost happy individual. The man has a sense of serene like zen coupled with a facade of bumbling idiocy that has made him rather easily approachable, a strange quality in a second division captain. He will frequently pass his duties off on to his Vice Captain, preferring instead to take a passive, figurehead role and simply maintaining his ability as a combatant as a means to retain his position. This is of course until he is incited in to a rage. Once angered, Giriko’s personality appears to do a complete one hundred and eighty degree turn in to dangerous and rather frightening territory. The boy is violent, reprehensible, and destructive toward everything around him, his Bankai itself manifesting itself in to the terrible storm that it is. This shift in personality is, in general, a sign of his wholehearted communion with his Zanpakutō spirit. He has fully embraced the duality of air in to his own being, a creature of both serene calm and terrifying rage.

• Likes: Hakuda, Gotei 13, Himself

• Dislikes: His Height, His Zanpakutō, His Anger
_________________________________



• History:
Giriko does not remember his time on Earth, given the size and stature he’s had to cope with since coming to Soul Society; he doubted he was anyone of special importance there anyway so it was of little consequence to the boy who he was. He was far more interested in who he was now and thinking of a past that he barely considered his own was pretty inconsequential and rather boring for him. So the official start of young Giriko’s life was as a fledgling new soul on the less than hospitable streets of Rukongai.
Like a lot of stories in our less than happy world, Giriko started out as an abandoned child who was forced to grow up on the streets, cold and alone. He doesn’t remember his early years, probably under the care of someone whose conscience got the better of them, but by the age of five he had to survive on the streets and with that came a penchant for knowing how to hide. Hiding from older, bigger kids, hiding from soldiers, hiding from shop owners whose bread you had to steal; hiding was one of the most important life skills you could develop, a life skill young Giriko fortunately acquired.

He was a lucky child, thankfully, and the one time he did not successfully avoid a shop owner chasing him was the best thing that ever happened to him. After recovering the vegetables that Giriko not so elegantly swiped from the man’s cart, he took the boy home, fed him, and after a healthy bout of bonding with the adorable little street urchin, Giriko was promptly kicked back out on to the street. But there had been a slight bond that formed and for the next few years, Giriko was able to routinely sneak away vegetables from the man’s cart and considering he had not once stolen anything without being noticed, it was a rather impressive feat…that the man pretended not to notice Giriko running off with his goods. The steady source of food allowed Giriko to grow up considerably more nourished than most people in his predicament. However, at a certain point, Giriko stopped hiding from the bigger and stronger kids.

The rather frequent intake of food had allowed him to grow, to become stronger unwittingly, much like actually getting to eat would work on anyone. He was still smaller than every other child, facts that he was loathe to be constantly reminded of, but he was no longer weaker. Over the course of the first twenty years of his life he had quickly gained a reputation as a protector of the innocent. He was constantly in fights with the bullies and thieves and criminals of all sort in Rukongai, surviving all sorts of scraps and at times death fights against some of the nastier figures in his neighborhood. The old man’s kindness had changed him, he wasn’t going to steal any longer to survive, he couldn’t bear the shame of such a dishonest act any longer. Thankfully, he wouldn’t really have to either. Giriko had gotten a big enough reputation as a protector of the innocent and other fantastical titles from the other street urchins that people were generally willing to just give him food for keeping the streets of his little district just a little bit safer by existing. The hero worship got to his head rather thoroughly as well and the boy was quickly developing an ego.

It took a great misunderstanding and a thorough ass kicking for Giriko to realize just how weak he truly was and just how much stronger he could truly be. To this day, Giriko is not sure what actually happened. He was told that a tall man in a black robe had stolen a piece of fruit from a local urchin and sure enough, when Giriko found him he sure enough was holding an apple in his hand and given Giriko’s perception of himself as a hero of justice and how consumed he was in that own image, he attacked without getting any sort of confirmation that the man was indeed the perpetrator. The boy had never been so thoroughly beaten in his life and he managed to accrue no real injuries in the process. He constantly hit nothing but air and was returned with light responses that could barely be considered little pushes. The man was toying with him and just constantly eating his damn apple while he danced around the boy, tripping, flicking, throwing him in to walls. He was, for lack of better terminology, an asshat. Unfortunately he eventually got bored of the little game and knocked Giriko unconscious with a chop to the back of his head. When the purple haired boy came to, one of the local shop owners let him know how crazy and stupid he was for attacking a shinigami and from there, he learned what he simply had to do.

When Giriko was determined, he got what he wanted and he got it as quickly as possible. Giriko quick made his way for Seireitei and passed the entrance exam on the first go and was quickly enrolled in the first class and embroiled in the life of a shinigami. Even when he was given his Shin’o Academy uniform however though, he still found ways to keep his Rukongai slummers clothing on him at all time. Perhaps he was more nostalgic of the past he could actually remember than he had originally let on to believe but he felt it was required to remember where he came from and why he care so much about what he was doing. Knowing why you care is a big part of being motivated to do much of anything.

It took Giriko two and a half years to graduate from the academy, where it got to the point where it was just too impractical and pointless to keep him there any longer. From the second the boy was initiated, he had shown an immense proficiency in Hoho, Kidō, and especially Hakuda and his marks in regards to fighting with a Zanpakutō were not astounding, but they weren’t so deficient to come off as a burden either. Giriko had essentially finished the curriculum in the proper training of Hoho, Kidō, and Hakuda within the first year and a half of the academy with special commendations for his hand to hand skills being given. In fact, it was probably the greatest contributing factor to the boy’s early graduation. Giriko had spent a lot of time studying Shinigami combat forms, both with weapons and without and was rather well versed in fighting against them. It got to the point that by the second year, Giriko was virtually unbeatable for anyone still at the academy, simply due to his dedication to understanding shinigami combat. It was through his dedication and immense skill through pure martial arts that allowed him to shrug off the final three years of academic life, simply because his superiors figured his big flaw was not going to be remedied by further studies in a classroom.

Giriko still, to this day, cannot activate his Shikai. It is not that he cannot commune with his Zanpakutō through Jinzen, he mastered the act of actually interfacing with his weapon rather easily, but Ikarutori and the young Giriko were constantly at odds and Giriko still did not know his Zanpakutō’s name, instead often referring it to whatever vulgar insult first comes to mind and with increasing length depending on how long he has decided to attempt to get an agreeable response out of his angry, gigantic, avian companion. He has not once been remotely successful and if anything, each subsequent attempt seems to push the pair farther and farther away from one another. Giriko however is rather adamant about refusing to give up. Thus began his quest for his Shikai, which he catalogued in his journal:

~ 11th day of the Cold Season, Tuesday

I have decided to attempt something new concerning my journey of self discovery, namely speaking I will discover if I am a remotely competent writer. Conventional wisdom would say that I am not, seeing as how this is but the second time I have written anything aside from my name since the academy. This particular brand of time wasting foolishness was devised on the dreary walk toward the mountain, tiresome as it was. I am not particularly certain why a mixture of road kill, rotten wood and rank air drove me to consider recording my little adventure down on paper, or in this case a napkin (paper will be the next purchase on this glorious foray in to the unknown), but I have no resolved myself to record my exploits, regardless of how mundane and that is what I shall do, perhaps the report I wrote last week was weighing on my mind. However, the first few days on the road were just that, mundane. I almost wished I was back in Rukongai; the constant desire to bludgeon a ruffian at least made the place interesting, if not necessarily safe. It had a life to it, a hum, a feel that one simply could not get from strolling along a dirt road, being mauled by bloodsucking insect wildlife and praying to whatever divinity guided our miserable lives that the mushroom I just ate wasn’t poisonous. Then again, to be fair, if it was poisonous I at least wouldn’t have to put up with this garbage any longer. It is a good two day trek from my blanket draped over a low tree branch as a miserable excuse for a tent and I will most likely not be able to write until I arrive, as I have used up every potential space on this napkin and folded it every possible way to cram in more information about how miserable I am. It’s my journal, screw you. No, I don’t know who I’m talking to.

14th day of the Cold Season, Friday

This entry in to the journal marks two significant advancements in my journey of self discovery. I have first, acquired paper and will no longer have to deal with accursed napkins that tear as soon as they’re prodded and scratched by a marginally sharp object. Secondly, I have found a location to write that does not involve getting bark and sap lodged underneath my finger nails. It took a good several hours under running water to free myself of the discomfort. It has however been two days since my last entry in my new but not new friend and there is much to discuss.

The two day trip to my current residence was undeniably plain. I lived on mushrooms, potential food assisted suicide adding the only form of excitement, and walked as quickly as I could while maintaining a healthy fortitude. I was, sufficed to say a little bit miffed about the whole ordeal. Why did this place have to be so damn far away from Seireitei? Was Soul Society really even this big? I suppose it was a good tactic, Seireitei wouldn’t police this place if it meant having to endure this tedious walk.

Then again, they might just invade for the view I received when I got here. It was like being opened up to a whole new world as I stepped over the horizon emerging from the murky woods. I was a large hill, almost a mountain that was covered with lush grass that my time in neither Rukongai nor Seireitei had afforded me. Lining the mountains were a plethora of pine trees, whose purpose he could not determine but they sure look beautiful from here. Lining the mountain with it were numerous houses and accompanying farms, designed to run the village’s main focal point. Near the top of the mountain, surrounded by a veritable forest of pine trees laid a magnificent building that almost seemed out of place in this overly rustic setting. I can admit in earnest that the scene had me spellbound for a few moments. Well, many moments, but it was a fascinating picture for me. Of course, all good things must come to an end as I slowly traversed down the hill and toward the valley entrance to the village, the experience making me question why people think traveling up is more difficult than traveling down. Perhaps they particularly care about traveling down in one piece. That was another thing I really hate about those people they’re always so nice and concern when you fa~~~~```…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Sorry, blood was dripping on the page. No, don’t ask why I’m apologizing to a piece of compressed dead tree just pay attention to the story. After the exciting ordeal down the mountain slash hill slash bug filled gravity trap, I had finally made it in to the village proper. Once I was there, I got nasty looks from everything with eyes, even the blind man sitting alone outside managed to give me a nasty look. It was unfortunate that I was so certain that I didn’t get lost, because I certainly didn’t seem welcome. After a good thirty minutes of failing to communicate, I finally managed to wrestle the name of the dojo I was looking for, the thing I was sent here for. The place was operated by someone by the name of Hei Ness, which felt like an odd name to me. It didn’t occur till after the thirty minutes that it would have been save to not seek confirmation and just head for the giant building on the hill and that might be why the locals looked at me as if I was criminally insane, but I didn’t really care at this point. I had two hours of sleep over the course of the last two days and I could care less about what the puissant locals thought of me.

I, without an ounce of trepidation or, depending upon how you look at it, sense, pushed open the door and entered in to the dojo. There were students practicing on the main floor, roughly eighteen strong and all with swords pointed at wooden dummies or each other. Thirty-six eyes turned to me as I apparently made my dramatic entrance. I took a few steps in to the building and things changed, very quickly. A nineteenth pair of eyes that I did not see before seemingly materialized at the back of the room, glaring at me apprehensibly and the climate of the room did a drastic turn from minute curiosity at my presence to outright hostility. A second after the sudden shift, the first student made his move.

He rushed at me, sword raised and quickly slashing down toward my shoulder as if I had recently killed his friend or eaten his sandwich or something equally grievous. I reacted almost without thinking, Hakuda training had been drilled in to my head from youth and my body at times might as well be reacting on its own. As the blade came down, my left leg sank back and my body pivoted, the sword flying right past me and the boy’s balance now thrown completely off as my hand snapped forward and grabbed his wrist as my body continued rotating, my elbow colliding right with his temple as a resounding thud was heard and the boy dropped down cold.

The rest of it happened too fast to fully remember the details. The other seventeen students rushed me and I fought back, their attacks never ceasing despite my constant attempts to yield and explain that I was merely there for training and that the Gotei Thirteen had sent me here to receive that training and that I thought they had already been warned. It was around when I relieved the tenth or so assailant of his consciousness that I figured they might have been warned. Was the organization trying to get rid of me? I’m obviously writing now so if they had intended to they had failed miserably but the thought had crossed my mind, the whole bloody mist revolution and my general distaste with killing unless necessary. As I dropped the last and final student, I noticed the eyes in the back of the room now had a body to accompany them. She was an older woman, late thirties most likely and she had an odd, striking beauty about her. If there weren’t swords flying at my face and the look in her eyes didn’t relay anything but murderous intent, I might have been taken in by it…much like I am now thinking back on it. At the time though, I didn’t have time for it.

The woman rushed at me much like the first attacker did and while she moved significantly faster, my initial reaction was one of boredom. Do these people not learn? Well, it was me that was in need of an education. I instinctively did the same thing I did on the first attacker and instead of blowing right by me; she made me pay for it. He sword stopped, she didn’t put nearly the same weight behind it as the other hand as soon as I was committed to the pivot, he foot shot forward, striking me on the inside of the knee and I crumpled rather quickly. Now off balance and in a completely bad position, she moved to deal the finishing blow as her sword raised high above her head and dove down at me. In this position I couldn’t dodge, the pain in my knee was too intense to really even move, so I did the first thing that came to mind, I tried to catch it. Both my hands shot up to meet the blade cupping it in my hands and stopping its motion. At first, I must have looked really cool, but it didn’t take long for the realization to sink in, I hadn’t caught it well enough. Blood trickled down from the palms of my hands and on to my shirt, the pained look on my face only compounded by the now painful cut on my hands as my knee slowly popped itself back in to place in a kneeling position before her. The look on her face was one I wasn’t going to forget. It was no longer anger, but mild bemusement. Like she couldn’t decide if she liked a certain hairstyle or not, it was kind of irritating to be honest. Her foot then shot forward and nailed me in the sternum, wrenching her blade free in the process and sending me sprawled to the floor before she finally spoke to me, my dumb rear end finally realizing that this must be Hei Ness.

“Come back tomorrow for training, don’t wear those ridiculous foot adornments.”

I was set up in a small room where I’m writing to you now, bloody and bruised but not sleeping with bugs, so it’s a good trade off I suppose. It just figures that I’m almost killed because I happened to have footwear. I hate my life. I will begin another entry when I find the time. For now I need sleep.

15th day of the Cold Season, Saturday.

My hand was stitched together, reopened, and then stitched together again so ideally I should no longer has a bloodstained journal, regardless of how much of a rough ass that makes me sound. Today was a little annoying though. I’m guessing it’s some “learn the importance of something” kind of thing, but right now it just seems like the lady was making me do her damn chores.

I arrived at the dojo, early and barefoot and was ushered in by a disgruntled looking student sporting a rather painful looking bruise on his left temple. I admit to feeling a pang of guilt at that moment, but the guy had tried to kill me not twenty four hours ago, so my distaste was somewhat tempered to be honest. The first matter of business was that the students shackled me down with a heavy set of weights that I couldn't help but admit were very encumbering. I went through their morning rituals, that were foreign to me and involved a lot of bowing but I didn’t question it, wasn’t in a mood to incite any more bladed wrath. It seemed however, that I wasn’t going to be doing anything bladed today. As soon as the morning rituals were concluded in which I dumbly and probably incorrectly tried to mimic, I was taken aside by her Hei Ness and given my assignment…and good lord was it a boring one.

I was to go in to the town to a local seed merchant who was passing through, her banzai trees were apparently not too kipper, and buy some special banzai seeds off of him to reinvigorate her garden. Of course that just made me pissed, but I had a job to do. Finding the seed merchant was by no means a simple matter. The man was seemingly purposefully avoiding me, like he knew I was coming to buy his stupid crap and he didn’t want to give it to me because I wasn’t covered in appropriate layers of dirt. That might not have been the only reason however. I soon discovered that the man did not even have the seeds I was looking for. After a lengthy discussion/ yelling match the man stormed off in a huff and I was left with no seeds and an unsatisfactory answer for Her Hei Ness.

It was around this part that the story began to get strange…well stranger. A little girl approached me as I watched the old seed salesman storm off. She was a cute little girl; I really have no other way to identify her. She had this strange child-like innocence and purity that emanated from her. If I wasn’t so annoyed at the old man, I’d probably find it creepy. She told me that I could find the seed I’m looking for far up the mountain near the very top and offered to go with me to help. As futile as the little adventure seemed, I decided to tag along, both since going to the dojo empty handed seemed like a suicide journey and that this little girl had a strange determination that told me that she was going up there whether I was or not, and I couldn’t really let her go by herself. I also didn’t have time to do the responsible thing and return her to her parents because she was speeding up the road toward the mountain with a speed I didn’t think possible with her tiny legs. The energy of youth I suppose.

So up the mountain we went, battling all sorts of wild growth that the girl just seemed to slip through effortlessly and that I seemed to be going out of my way to get stuck in. It took an hour to climb to the top, mostly because the girl was nice enough to stay behind and disentangle me from every stupid plant that wrapped me up. Of course, she just giggled innocently every time, like she was enjoying me having to claw for every inch up this mountain while she weaved through it like it was nothing. Living here probably helps with navigating this place, but it was still absurd how easily she moved through this place.

When we finally stopped, I was scraped, bruised, miserable, and adorned in that fresh cover of dirt I was lacking before. The cuts on my hands had reopened and I was stretched pretty thin. The girl, almost a pristine image of cleanliness and perfectly, the little annoying…anyway, stopped still and smiled warmly at me and pointed down to a small little stem, no more than an inch high, and told me that this was the plant. Well…I was angry. She had made it sound like I’d find something that’d actually be ready to harvest and I could just go home. But no, the tree was no less than, as the girl so cheerfully informed me, thirty years from blooming to the point to making a seed. My first reaction was cold outrage, but I figured strangling a little girl wasn’t exactly proper top of the mountain stranded in the middle of nowhere etiquette. I slumped down against a nearby, actually grown tree possessing seeds that were irrelevant to me and stared menacingly down at the little, taunting plant as the equally taunting cheery eyed girl kept staring at me. I was kind of pissed, but I was determined. I’d sit there for the next thirty years if I had to, beating Her Stupid Hei Ness was something I was very set on doing. Teach her for giving me stupid assignments. As soon as that wave of resolve swept over me, a wave of fatigue followed, the trek up the mountain must have drained me. I could have sworn I felt a pressure on my eye lids as they closed and I completely faded from consciousness.

I’m not sure how long I had been asleep, but the first sight I possessed when I awoke was no longer the small saproling. Instead, before me stood a gargantuan tree, easily quadrupling the tiny twigs around it. The behemoth tree was intimidating, incredibly, but there was also a sort of giddy excitement I felt. I rushed forward and collected a small handful of the acorns on the ground and quickly started on my way back down the hill of hell when a sudden realization stopped me. The girl, had she gone home? Well…I had potentially slept for thirty years. Had she gone home? I looked down at my hands and noticed they were surprisingly childish for a forty-six year old. Well, no matter, shoving these seeds in that old crones face will be good enough. The trip down was just as hazardous, if not more so due to gravity taking me in to the obstacles even faster this time, as the trip up and never had I breathed a heavier sigh of relief then when I got to town. The sigh was quickly covered up by the fact that I noticed the same old guy glaring at me as if I smelled like unwanted soap. It was around that time where I put the thirty year sleep theory to rest. Had the girl lied to me about how long it took to grow? And where was she? I was so determined to wait the whole time too, it was almost disappointing I didn’t get to. I made my way to Her Hei Ness’s dojo where she instantly snapped up my acorns before adding in a comment that I’ll leave off the day with as it firmly cements my dislike for the woman.

“That’s good, we needed some shade.”

16th Day of the Cold Month

The long strings of expletives that are mostly needed to adequately begin the events of the day are probably not the most acceptable addition to such a reputable journal entry. Of course, I could always censor them out using ornate and pointless symbols to replicate, but then I’d be a B****. I’d prefer not to be one of those. So we’ll just leave it vague and allow you to understand how agitated I was with the day. I was not permitted to take the weights they had given me off during the night and they managed to be incredibly itchy when I woke up this morning, ignoring how sore I was from climbing up and down that wretched mountain with them on. Since when did a Zanjutsu school care so much about this garbage?

I got back to the dojo, a little later and with dirtier and was ushered in by an even further disgruntled looking student, his rather painful looking bruise on his left temple seeming to not have gotten any better over the course of the last twenty-four hours. My pang of guilt was now completely gone for the angry looking fellow, between attempted murder and his general grumpiness, my distaste was somewhat justified to be honest. I went through their morning rituals a, that were still foreign to me and I was tired, I didn’t have the same effort in to it as I dumbly followed the leader without much presence of mind. It seemed however, that I still wasn’t going to be doing anything bladed today. As soon as the morning rituals were concluded in which I dumbly and probably incorrectly tried to mimic, I was taken aside by her Hei Ness again and given my assignment…and they weren’t attempting to be more relevant.

I didn’t say anything about it today and I really wish I would have. This assignment was at least less obnoxious than the former…or so I thought. The assignment didn’t start off obnoxious yesterday either but quickly spiraled in to it. So perhaps my optimism at the start of the day was somewhat misplaced. It turned out to be a less strenuous, but far more retarded day. I was sent in to town to pick up her Hei Ness’s laundry. Why I was busy running petty errands was beyond me. Like everything in this awful town, it took me a good hour or so to find the damn Laundromat. Heavens forbid anything be simple to find. I got spit on a few times for good measure.

Once I did locate the Laundromat, things didn’t get any less weird. There was a tiny man, steadily losing the entirety of his hair dubiously scrubbing what once must have been a shirt inside a dingy little water bucket. I was a little afraid to approach, the man seemed like an inch away from flinging that wet…wad of cloth back at me and I wasn’t about to get in to a wet towel fight with this little bald man. I did eventually get out of it and asked for the clothes I was supposed to pick up, to which he reluctantly threw the clothes he was currently washing at me. They were rigid, might as well have been cardboard and he then went in to a large monologue about how he’s been washing and drying and rewashing that shirt for the past twenty years. I’m sure he was still talking about all of the times he had washed that shirt, he was on year two before I stopped waiting to see if he was going to say anything relevant before returning back to the dojo. I turned the shirt over to Her Hei Ness, and she didn’t seem too phased by the rigidity of her shirt. Given that it had been there for twenty years, I doubted she cared about it begin with, she just wanted to piss me off.

I got sent home earlier and spent all that free time by sitting in my shoddy housing conditions in a huff and writing this somewhat lackluster entry in to this little stack of paper is all I’ve accomplished during the second half of the day, or it would have been. If I wasn’t visited by some of the stupid students and assaulted again, dispatching them proved slightly more difficult with the weights, but I made sure to commandeer one of their swords this time. I was going to use a sword even if they didn’t want me to. When the first one tried to cut me down, I caught his wrist and wrenched his weapon from him before elbowing him, funnily enough, in his other temple. It was surprising that this guy kept trying to mess with me. Sufficed to say, once I had myself armed, it didn’t require much more effort to chase away the rest of the goon squad here. A long gash on one’s face was enough to chase the rest of them away as I picked up the one unconscious body and threw it out of my “house” and on to the very dirty ground. There was a strange sense of satisfaction that came from kicking the crap out of her students, despite being tired and wearing weights none of them were forced to deal with. Very satisfying indeed.


17th Day of the Cold Month

[Insert a long string of expletives of your choosing her in order to fully understand my frustration and anger at my life.] Yes, that is all that can sum up my morning. While thrashing her students was oddly satisfying, returning the weapon the next morning led to some awkward questions that caused Her Hei Ness to only regard me with that bemused glance that she just loved to harass me with. Well screw her, I had done stupid and pointless errands for her the past few days and I was skeptical whether anything more interesting was going to happen today. Of course, it wouldn’t.

We went through the same tired bowing and facing ritual that I had gone through the first two days, the tug of the weights on my muscles being increasingly agitating. And, surprise surprise, I wasn’t going to be doing anything related to swordsmanship, again! That merited an exclamation point entirely. It most certainly did. There was some petty squabble going on in town and I was tired of doing her chores for her, but at this point I didn’t have all that much of a choice. I had nothing better to do anyway.

It did not take me long to get to my destination, primarily because I didn’t have to spend an hour finding it. All I had to do was follow the screaming. I didn’t realize someone like Her Hei Ness would usually have the duty fall to her for dealing with moronic and petty arguments like this, but in a small town like this, I suppose all law enforcement comes down to her, must be such an exciting life.

This encounter required a lot more effort and energy than it should of. Both people arguing were loud, obnoxious and almost impossible to talk to. I lacked empathy to begin with so this was particularly agitating. It took me all day to diffuse this situation, this situation that was being fought over the property line. They were arguing over one square foot of land. There wasn’t anything even on the square foot, all that was there was a rock. We had a twelve hour fight over a rock. What the hell was wrong with this place? I dragged my sorry ass back to the dojo, her majesty was not a mite surprised and sent me home, again without touching a sword. I hate this place.


18th Day of the Cold Season

I admittedly view this entire experience in a new light. I arrived at the dojo the same time I had the last three days, but this time it was completely empty with the exception of Her Hei Ness. As soon as I arrived, she motioned me to sit down. I sat down, and sat there for a good five minutes waiting for what the point of this was. It was then she asked me one simple question.

“What have you learned?”

I will not pretend I was some amazing genius and figured out exactly what she meant, but she managed to walk me through it. The first task taught me what it meant to have resolve and never give up. That kind of determination was necessary for a swordsman and more importantly, to demand the respect of my Zanpakutō. The second task taught me against ritual for the sake of ritual, my interactions with the old bird were becoming more and more half-hearted as time went on and I was merely attempting for the sake of attempting. The old man had been dissolved to insanity because he practiced the same tired moves constantly and if I continued down this path, I doubted I would get anywhere with my Sword’s soul. A swordsman had to be fresh and original while being strong at your fundamentals. The third task taught me how to read his opponents. He had to read the people arguing and find the solution to their problem, just like one had to read an opponent to know what moves they would make. He needed to understand his weapon in order to harness it.

I returned back to my room, for the last night. There wasn’t much for her to teach me, she told me people like me learned better by figuring themselves out instead of relying on another’s moves and I could agree more or less. I would have liked to stay a little bit longer, beat up on that guy some more, but I also wanted to go home. This will be the last entry in this journal, unless something particularly exciting happens on the way home. I believe I’m ready to face that overgrown chicken head on now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


As the last words were scratched out on what was now a really tattered book (plus napkin), Giriko gently set the cluster of paper down on the bed beside him, giving it a rather longing look before a sigh escaped him. He had endured a rather long series of events and as he sat on what was becoming a rather familiar bed, his mind replayed all the lessons he had learned. Resolution, creativity, understanding; Giriko really believed he had grown substantially not only as a combatant but a person as well. Patience however, would apparently forever elude the boy as he decided, despite the exhaustion that now was when he would confront his Zanpakutō spirit. Giriko turned slightly, laying his legs out across the bed before folding them tenuously over one another as he gently laid his small Tanto across his lap. As his eyes slowly inched closed, the setting changed.

He was no longer on his bed in his room. Instead he was standing, tall (sort of) and proud (definitely) on the air in the sky of the setting sun around him. He had been to his Zanpakutō’s inner world many times before, the spirit itself apparently never found a way to reliably keep him out, but today was different than it was before. He wasn’t here simply for the sake of coming here. He was going to get his Zanpakutō’s name, even if he had to mercilessly beat it out of him. The bird in question arrived soon after to welcome the guest of honor and as was quickly becoming tradition, opened off the forum with a derogatory and rather cruel comment about Giriko and as per usual, it centered on his rather vertically challenged stature.

“Oh I’m sorry Giriko, there was a lot of dust floating around, you simply got lost with so many things as big as you are floating around in here.”

“You’d imagine gigantic poultry would be a little more humble, but we’re not playing this game today. Give me your name or I swear I will force it out of you.”

Control wasn’t something Giriko had apparently learned and he couldn’t help but get baited ever so slightly when his height was insulted. Giriko didn’t wait however, he knew asking for the birds name was not going to yield any results. Instead, he simply attacked. Now for reference, Giriko is but a few inches north of five feet tall. The spirit was a few inches north of three hundred meters tall. Giriko’s spirit was a veritable sky scraper which made the small framed boy pelting toward the massive head almost comical. What was even more comical was when that tiny little fist crashed in to the massive head and sent the even more massive body flying backward as it was attempting to respond. The bird was half way through the opening to his witty retort as to why Giriko would never learn his name before the aforementioned witty retort twisted in the a shrill screech of shock and agitation with the slightest hint of pain. As the massive creature was reeling backward, it violently flapped its wings in Giriko’s direction and it felt like the very sky itself was attacking him as a strong torrent of wind slammed in to his small frame, sweeping back his clothes and pushing him through the air as he stubbornly remained on his feet.

As the two beings gained their bearings, squaring off to each other, the bird would make the first move. Spreading its wings wide, its feathers began shifting for a brief moment before ten chains, five from each wing, shot toward Giriko as he hastily wove in between them, hoping to use the slight opening to traverse through the field and drag him back in to close combat. This would prove to be a mistake as soon as Giriko dodged the chains and pushed off the reishi in the air around him, jettisoning himself forward, the bird disappeared from sight. It was only due to his ability to feel disturbances in the air that allowed him to sense the creature appearing behind him as he quickly shifted to his right as the massive creature dragged his chains back and in to the direction Giriko was moving, the massive things just barely missing the boy’s body, barely missing crushing him entirely.

Giriko flipped around and steadied himself, staring carefully at the bird, trying to figure out how the thing teleported. He was sure that was what it was; he didn’t feel any disturbances from the movement in the air, only when the thing arrived behind him. He only had a moment to examine it before the chains receded back in to the bird’s wings, but the chains themselves never seemed to change places at all, only the placement of the bird’s body. That was it. As the bird fired the chains from its wings Giriko, Giriko repeated his earlier action, ducking in between the chains and moving forward to close the distance but this time, he didn’t follow through with it. He knew how the bird was moving and knew exactly where he was going to be, it was predictable. As the chains by him, Giriko turned on a dime, digging his foot in to the reishi in the air before launching himself at where the bird’s head was going to be using what he believed was the fastest flash step he had ever used. As the bird’s head was materializing on the other side, Giriko’s foot was violently swinging upward. His tiny leg crashed in to a small part of the bird’s gargantuan head with enough force to send the bird back and reeling, flipping it to the point where its stomach faced up. Recovering from the kick, Giriko quickly pushed off the ground and further in to the air, tucking his chin in to his chest and rotating in the air, flipping as a small human ball before his feet caught the air above him, the top of his head aimed straight down at the prone bird. Giriko let out a howling cry of battle before pushing off the reishi and rocketing down toward the bird. As he flew, he reached to his side and pulled out the Tanto and gripped it with both hands. Giriko raised it above his head and as he flew toward the bird’s neck, the boy violently slammed the tiny weapon through the feathered neck and was greeted with a rather pleasant sound of metal cutting through flesh. The bird’s head tilted up slightly, its giant eyes bigger than the gnat on its neck as it…smirked down at Giriko. Whether or not a beaked face was capable of smirking would be a debate for another time however.

“Who would have thought a midget like you could do that to me.”

“Damnit, I’m not short, Ikarutori!”

Giriko was no longer in the sky with the setting sun. The boy was back on his bed in the familiar foreign room and bed as his mind reeled, trying to process what happened. He was tired, more tired than he had ever been and he could only look around the room in a confused daze. It didn’t take long though, first he noticed the weight. His Zanpaktuo shouldn’t be that heavy on his lap. His hand reached down for the handle, he didn’t feel the grip in the right place, as he shakily slid off the side of the bed and placed his bare feet on the cold floor, lifting himself in to a standing posture. Giriko’s eyes shifted down and he saw the full glory that his Zanpakutō had become. It was a large double bladed axe that carried a rather futuristic look to it and it stood a good two feet taller than its wielder. Giriko stood in silence for a good plenty of moments as he stared down at his shikai. It was difficult to identify his emotions as a casual onlooker, perhaps it was simply because he was so tired, but the words he spoke would be put the matter to bed, for the night.

“You would become something I’d hate using…you jackass.”

Giriko began his career within the second division, serving many missions in to the human world on specific search and destroy missions targeted at the hollows threatening the land outside the protective dome of Karakura. His first mission, by almost all accounts, was a failure. He had lost his entire team and had barely succeeded in tracking down the hollow and eliminating it. It should have been one of the more miserable moments in his life, and yet it wasn’t. It was then that he met Mikomi, who at the time was the plus the hollow had targeted. The Konso was performed, after some heavy duty convincing on Giriko’s part, and miraculously, young Mikomi managed to retain her memories upon her formation in soul society. It was then that Giriko was dispatched in to Rukongai to investigate why an entire district had gone completely dark. It was there that he found Mikomi. Having been separated from her family sword, the woman was sent in to a frenzied rage, a state Giriko was quite familiar with. Giriko, who had carried her sword across from the human world to Soul Society, successfully reuninted the two and ended the rampage. It was after this incident that Giriko and Mikomi came under the protective custody of Tsukiryuu Crow. They then spent their time training under him and his captain. It was during this time, couple with Damien’s, the Captain’s, intense, heavy rock moving training regimen. For months, Damien strapped obnoxious amounts of weight to him and forced him to carry gigantic boulders up a myriad of aggravating mountains, forcing the boy to use his kido to supplement his strength be able to carry the aggravating constructs. This training went on for two years, the boy being pushed by Tsukiryuu and Damien both all hours of the night.

It was during this mutual state of self-despair that, in addition to Giriko’s general control over his own strength and his kido, the boy genuinely began bonding with Ikarutori. Neither of them were especially fond of the slave masters and it was through that mutual detestment that the two began to enjoy each others company. Daily conversations being the only joy the be found in the day tended to bring two beings together rather quickly. They spoke of many things, their hatred of their commanding officers, Giriko’s awkwardly budding relationship with Mikomi, his deathly fear of tassels(They serve no purpose! What do they want from us damnit!?) and through these constant dealings, Giriko grew more and more attuned to his Zanpakutō. That was how he spent his days for years, he’d train until nightfall, then spend that night with Mikomi. This process lasted for a long, happy time...until Mikomi disappeared. Giriko was not going to lose her again, and immediately set off after her, leaving Soul Society for the human world, against Ikarutori’s protests and the protests of his commanding officers. It was his job though, if Mikomi had deserted, it was his job to bring her back.

It was through this that Giriko left Soul Society for a time, searching for Mikomi and meeting a whole cast of interesting people along the way. It was during this time that he fought all sorts of monsters, hollows, demons, and cut down everything in his path. It was then when he finally resigned himself to the reality, to the fact that no matter how angry he got or how many things he killed, he had lost Mikomi. This ability to accept the reality around him for the first time, accepting that he, in reality, could not do everything, had been a large emotional step for him, for the first time he was able to admit to being flawed. It was during this time that Giriko had developed his Bankai, his connection with Ikarutori finally developing enough for the boy to fully subjugate the Angry Bird. By the time he had returned to Soul Society from his mission, despite not finding Mikomi the deserter, Giriko had amassed a gigantic body count. In the ten years he had been gone, Giriko had slain thirty two Quincy, one hundred and forty hollows, twenty three arrancar, four vizards and several demons and had grown substantially more powerful since the last time anyone had seen him. Following the dearth of influential and quite frankly terrifying candidates to replace the currently absent Captain of the Second Division, Giriko was thrust back in to his old and first squad to take up the mantle of Captain of the Second Division and all affiliated organizations.

_________________________________

• Reiatsu Color: Green

• Zanpakutô Spirit Name: Ikarutori

• Zanpakutô Spirit Appearance: Ikarutori is…well…rather terrifying. The bird/dragon/monster/bully is a massive creature that even appears massive in the endless sky that is its home. The monster, while not necessarily accurate as Giriko has never especially bothered to measure the thing meticulously with a ruler, is well over a hundred meters in length and a good thirty or so wide, substantially dwarfing its wielder and is a point of much bickering between the two. While Giriko has never had cause to try and find out, the creatures talons look rather sharp and its wings don’t look like normal feathers.

• Inner World:

• Sealed Zanpakutô Apperance :

• Sealed Zanpakutô Abilities :

Wind Step

Giriko’s own special step is more like a bodily change than a specific step. Using his attunement to the element of wind, Giriko is literally able to become “wind” for a short time. From the very bottom of his essence, Giriko is able to fully convert his body into air particles. While still maintaining bodily function. So while this does not stop anyone from seeing, hearing, or even really smelling Giriko, it does completely erase his existence as a Shinigami for the duration of the ability, effectively completely eliminating his reishi signature. This, combined with his natural aptitude for stealth, cause Giriko to be an absolutely terrifying assassin.

The Winds of Fury, Combination Style:

While not always the case, Shinigami combat is done primarily with Zanpakutō. As such, Hakuda techniques on the whole, were taught primarily as a way to defend oneself against attacks when the Zanpakutō was not available but ultimately, it was never a focus and it was never something that the educators at the academy spent a lot of time on. Shinigami fought with Zanpakutō first and their limbs second. So instead, throughout the Academy, Giriko pieced together his own unarmed fighting style, which was more or less a conglomeration of all the different techniques he has developed throughout his life.

Giriko has always been a momentum based fighter and it was only natural that the style he developed would reflect that. By combining two of his strengths, his application of Kidō and his proficiency with Hakuda, Giriko has developed a martial style seamlessly blending the two. By chaining one technique in to another within the style, Giriko gains more and more momentum and as such, gains more and more power. Every time one of his Hakuda techniques successfully hit an opponent, either cleanly or by being blocked, his strength, speed, and resistance to outside forces is doubled for the duration of his next Winds of Fury technique.

However, given that this style was born from next to nothing and he has only been practicing it for a few years, Giriko has limits on what techniques he can successfully chain in to another. These limits can be seen by viewing this somewhat archaic chart. Every technique must be preceded by the technique above it in the chart. Gou Majinken may only be used after Majinken, etc. The exception to this rule is that the first tier of abilities may be used initially on their own or may use Hakugekishou in the chain. If any of the techniques complete their duration without hitting an opponent, the chain ends. While his Zanpakutō is released, each technique has the chance to further enrage his Zanpakutō.

Hakugekishou=Impact: This technique starts off, aesthetically, as any other basic unarmed strike. However, right before the point of contact, Giriko will generate a small pocket of wind based reishi in between his attack and his victim. When Giriko’s fist connects with the pocket, the reishi will burst out, forming a miniature, forward explosion that will often rattle and stun anything it connects with. The stunning and disorienting effect will only last for a few moments, less than a full post, but if Giriko immediately follows up with another Hakuda, the victim will be prone and vulnerable to further attacks. May grant one rage if Ikarutori is released.

Majinken=Demon Fist: Giriko will gather wind based reishi to his palm, forming it in to a small, faintly glowing ball, before violently thrusting it forward toward an opponent. The kinetic energy will propel the condensed reishi along and cause it to collide with whatever is in its way. The projectile itself is not especially strong and its concussive force is equivalent to the force in which Giriko is capable of punching. May grant one rage if Ikarutori is released.

Gou Majinken=Strong Demon Fist: Giriko will gather wind based reishi to his palm, forming it in to a five foot diameter, faintly glowing ball, before violently thrusting it forward toward an opponent. The kinetic energy will propel the condensed reishi along and cause it to collide with whatever is in its way. The projectile itself is rather potent and its concussive force is equivalent to five times the force in which Giriko is capable of punching. May grant three rage if Ikarutori is released.

Majin Rengazan=Chaos Wave: Giriko will rapidly perform an ornate sequence of shadow boxing maneuvers and from each strike will erupt a high speed Majinken. These projectiles are equivalent to the normal Majinken and Giriko is capable of firing fifty before the technique finishes.

Shishisenkou=Beast: Giriko will gather a considerable amount of Reishi around him before violently attempting to shoulder tackle whoever has the misfortune of being in his way. As he collides with his target, all the accumulated Reishi will erupt out and crash in to the target and force them to the ground, typically in the supine position. Given the rather overwhelming nature of the explosive Reishi, the Shishisenkou is especially adept at bulldozing through barriers and shields and other opposing attacks, generally providing a sense of shielding in and of itself. However, accumulating that Reishi takes time and there is a rather notable time lag before Giriko can initiate the strike, making it very easy to counter and limiting its practical usefulness. May grant five rage if Ikarutori is released.

Gakugan Zetsurakugeki=Rending Earth: Usable only on a downed opponent, Giriko will violently grab hold of the victims ankle before, equally violently, sweeping them back off the ground, torqueing them through the air in a radial arc, before violently slamming the victim back in to the ground with enough force to bounce them up in to the air. May grant seven rage if Ikarutori is released.

Banbutsu Shintsuigeki=Lord of All Creation: Usable only on an airborne opponent, Giriko will drive his fist in an uppercut motion in to the victims solar plexus before following it up with a rising elbow to their jaw, then follow by a downward elbow strike to the back of their head. All of these strikes happen within a fraction of a second, seemingly simultaneously, before Giriko finishes the technique by violently driving his victim’s reeling face in to the ground with an axe kick. May grant twenty rage if Ikarutori is released.

Rengadan=Talon Storm: A rapid attack technique, Giriko will channel Reishi to his foot before taking one pivotal step forward, establishing his base, and then firing ten rapid kicks, all within a half second of each other, in to the opponent’s abdomen. May grant four rage if Ikarutori is released.

Hienrenkyaku=Swallow Dance: Pushing off the previously established base, Giriko will take to the air and rapidly throw horizontal, hip torqueing kicks at the opponent’s head. The technique will use whatever Giriko’s leg makes contact with to propel the other leg back around, violently hammering away at whatever he is attempting to kick. This technique will last for five kicks. May grant four rage if Ikarutori is released.

Renga Hienkyaku=Swallow Storm: After the Hienrenkyaku finishes, Giriko will seemingly “blip” from sight. Incorporating the Shunpo in to the attack, Giriko will move at startlingly fast speeds and unleash a furious flurry of attacks, the alliteration strengthening the move, and will strike the opponent fifteen times simultaneously. May grant four rage if Ikarutori is released.

Reishishoudan=Lucent Pallisade: Funneling Reishi along the length of his arm, Giriko will perform a blistering overhead chop that will eject the collected Reishi in to a wind-like blade protrusion. This Reishi is sharp to the touch and functions more or less like a sword, capable of standing toe to toe with a Zanpakutō. May grant two rage if Ikarutori is released.

Renkigoushuku=Spirit Rush: Pumping further Reishi in to his hand and gathering the accumulated energy around him, Giriko will drive the pulsing energy forward in a palm strike, attempting to ram the accumulated mass of Reishi through his opponent. May grant four rage if Ikarutori is released.

Rekkouzanmetsu=Sundering Fury: By causing the ball of Reishi he has already collected to become unstable, Giriko will push the mass of energy forward until it erupts in to a giant, controlled explosion in a seventy degree angle in front of him. May grant seven rage if Ikarutori is released.

Feeling the Wind:

Human reaction time and precision fluctuates depending on the manner of stimulation that is prompting the reaction. Visual and auditory reaction times are roughly similar, but response to tactile information is rather quicker than its counterparts. Many older Human Martial Arts zero in on this aspect of human physiology, Wing Chun in particular. Old masters use the tactile information from contact with their opponent to react quicker to the tensing muscles and movements of their opponent.

Ikarutori is at its core, a wind based Zanpakutō. However, due to the pair's less than cordial relationship, the abilities that Giriko can draw out are forcibly pulled rather than given freely. As such, Giriko is not given control over the wind or anything of the sort, however he is capable of feeling the wind currents and distortions in the air to an absurd degree. Giriko, having studied combat philosophy extensively, combines these two concepts seamlessly. Giriko can feel the disturbances in the air when things move around him in a twenty meter radius and he instinctively uses the tactile information from feeling the disturbances, effectively making his reaction time substantially faster.

Winds of Fury: Sho:

This technique allows Giriko to heavily augment the Hadō #1: Sho, in a multitude of facets. The most predominant version of the amplification comes in the sheer force behind the technique. This effectively allows the manipulate the potency of the Kidō to whatever heights he is currently capable of. For instance, if Giriko is capable of level forty Hadō, he is capable of increasing the power of his Sho to the level forties. Fifties would be increased to sixties, and so on. The technique also allows him to fire the concussive forces with a lot less concentration, no longer needing to channel the concussive force through his finger and instead can fire the Kidō from any part of his body.

Winds of Fury: Physical Incantation:

While most people typically don’t use the incantation for Sho, such a simple and relatively harmless kido not needing the increase in power for most people’s purposes, most people can’t drastically enhance the potency of their Sho. However, chanting words is a little too tedious for Giriko, he doesn’t enjoy reciting a paragraph while he’s trying to punch things, instead, the boy has developed a way to use his own body to serve the catalyst role that the incantations typically provide. By physically striking the air, be it with his fist, foot, elbow, knee, forehead, etc, Giriko can roughly double the potency of whatever level Sho he is performing, as if he had spoken the incantation.

Winds of Fury: Shunko:

Shunkō is one of the highest forms of Hakuda technique and is generate by forcibly infusing magical energies into the body. It is an extremely powerful technique and requires the utmost control over one’s body and energy in order to safely drive Kidō into one's arms and legs. By concentrating Shunkō around a particular area of their body, a practitioner can prevent attacks from damaging or piercing this area.

Giriko’s Shunko also manifests additional properties reflecting his attunement to the element of wind. Unlike most variations of Shunko however, Giriko’s Shunko does not afford him really any physical or spiritual increases in and of itself. Consequently, Giriko focuses on control with his Shunko, allowing him to maintain it indefinitely. When his Shunko is engaged, Giriko gains the Furious Winds ability, whether or not he has released his Shikai or not. The power of the Furious Winds fluctuates based on how angry it is and the closer it is to a foe the more furious it tends to become. How angry Giriko is works on one hundred point anger metric. Each point of rage increases Giriko’s strength, speed, and tolerance to pain and injury by 100% Whenever Giriko is within five meters of his opponent while his Shikai is out, he gains three points of rage for that post. Whenever he is forced outside of five meters, he loses three points of rage. Every time his attacks connect with anything, he gains two points of rage and any time he is struck he gains five points of rage. While Shunko is activated while using either Giriko’s Shikai or Bankai, the gains and losses from Furious Wind actions is doubled. (He would gain six points instead of three for being within five meters)

Winds of Fury: Shunko: Hurricane:

While the “Winds of Fury: Shunko” is engaged, Giriko is able to generate a ball of swirling wind around himself, encasing his body in a sphere of dangerously fast air. By overlapping countless currents of air around him, Giriko is able to create a sphere of currents around his body. This serves mostly as a defensive technique while moving, allowing Giriko to repel attacks using the rotational force of the Sphere. In addition, the wind itself is moving at an extremely fast pace, affording him offensive options as well. Ramming in to someone whilst engaged in the hurricane causes thousands of tiny lacerations along their impact zone and also allows Giriko to bull rush through a myriad of barriers and defensive techniques.


• Release:
Damnit I’m not short, Ikarutori!
You asshole, I'm just vertically challenged!
Maybe my body just knows it's afraid of heights, Ikatori!

• Shikai Description:

• Shikai Abilities:
Greatly Enhanced Strength: At the base of the Shikai, Giriko is granted enough extra strength to effortlessly wield a weapon that is two feet bigger than he is and swing it around as if it were a feather.

Chain Strike: Ikarutori can form a chain of reiryoku from Giriko’s hand whenever the weapon is thrown. Giriko can use this chain to withdraw the weapon or guide it toward a target. The chain itself needs to form initially in Giriko’s hand before connecting to Ikarutori, but can connect to it at any range and the chain itself will form and reach the axe rather quickly. Outside of that stipulation, Giriko can form and disperse the chain at will.

Chain Strike Clone: Giriko is able to cause his chain to clone itself momentarily, creating temporary, but very real copies of his Zanpakutō as long as it is connected to the chain. The copies are influenced by whatever momentum the original had, but Giriko can control which direction they carry that momentum toward, allowing him to cover a wide area while swinging the weapon in its chained state.

Switcheroo: Provided it is connected to him by the chain of reiryoku, Giriko and Ikarutori are able to instantly switch places with each other. Whatever physics were currently acting on the one will continue working on the other once they switch places. This technique requires the chain to be fully connected and uninterrupted for it to work. If the chain itself is being attack or touched or if it is not yet connected to the Axe, then this technique is not possible.

Furious Winds: The power of Ikarutori fluctuates based on how angry it is and the closer it is to a foe the more furious it tends to become. How angry Ikarutori is works on one hundred point anger metric. Each point of rage increases Giriko’s strength, speed, and tolerance to pain and injury by 50% Whenever Giriko is within five meters of his opponent while his Shikai is out, he gains three points of rage for that post. Whenever he is forced outside of five meters, he loses three points of rage. Every time his attacks connect with anything, he gains two points of rage and any time he is struck he gains five points of rage. There are aesthetic visible changes to Ikarutori at every 25% rage capacity and will begin to emanate a differently colored glow. At 0% it will appear devoid of a glow, at 25% it will have a blue hue, at 50% a green, at 75% a yellow, and at 100% will contain a rather ominous red color.

Furious Action: When using this technique, Giriko will channel all of his accumulated fury in to his next attack to dramatically increase the potency of that skill. At low levels of rage, the increase is rather negligible but at Red Axe levels, a simple punch is capable of rather extreme destructive power. Use of the Furious Action increases the destructive power of an attack by double for each twenty rage points expended. When the Furious Action is used, the rage counter is set to zero.

• Bankai Description: Ikarutori Karitichijin

When Bankai is engaged, a strong gust of wind is expulsed omnidirectionally, covering the surrounding area in a heavy and dense, but momentary fog before an extremely heavy and concussive gust of wind is expulsed from Giriko’s body in a once again omnidirectional nature. Whilst engaged in Bankai, Ikarutori’s wings manifest out of Giriko’s back, hinting at a more symbiotic than purely subjugated relationship with his Zanpakutō, and the axe steadily morphs into a rather intimidating Scythe.

• Bankai Abilities:

Gen'atsu: The primary ability of the Ikarutori Karitichijin, The Gen’atsu is a kido type attack that is mercilessly dangerous. The Gen’atsu, as the name suggests, allows Giriko to project his Reiatsu through the air to a target location, then proceed to rapidly suck in and compress the air at a target location, potentially sucking in the target as well if caught off guard, and quickly building up tension and then releasing it at critical mass in an extremely violent explosion. Everything in the epicenter of the blast is immediately ripped to shreds by the sudden and violent expansion of air and energy. The whole process takes under a second to fully occur, giving Giriko a plethora of long range and deadly options in combat.

The Gen’atsu is heavily influenced by the Divinely Furious Winds, the blast radius of the ability increasing by five meters for every rage point that Giriko has accrued over the course of the thread. In addition, the more points of rage Ikarutori Karitichinjin has amassed, the more volatile the explosion in general is, allowing the weapon to fell increasingly dangerous targets.

Chain Strike: Ikarutori can form a chain of reiryoku from Giriko’s hand whenever the weapon is thrown. Giriko can use this chain to withdraw the weapon or guide it toward a target. The chain itself needs to form initially in Giriko’s hand before connecting to Ikarutori, but can connect to it at any range and the chain itself will form and reach the axe rather quickly. Outside of that stipulation, Giriko can form and disperse the chain at will.

Chain Strike Clone: Giriko is able to cause his chain to clone itself momentarily, creating temporary, but very real copies of his Zanpakutō as long as it is connected to the chain. The copies are influenced by whatever momentum the original had, but Giriko can control which direction they carry that momentum toward, allowing him to cover a wide area while swinging the weapon in its chained state.

Switcheroo: Provided it is connected to him by the chain of reiryoku, Giriko and Ikarutori are able to instantly switch places with each other. Whatever physics were currently acting on the one will continue working on the other once they switch places. This technique requires the chain to be fully connected and uninterrupted for it to work. If the chain itself is being attack or touched or if it is not yet connected to the Axe, then this technique is not possible.

Divinely Furious Winds: The power of Ikarutori fluctuates based on how angry it is and the closer it is to a foe the more furious it tends to become. How angry Ikarutori is works on two hundred point anger metric. Each point of rage increases Giriko’s strength, speed, and tolerance to pain and injury by 300% Whenever Giriko is within five meters of his opponent while his Shikai is out, he gains three points of rage for that post. Whenever he is forced outside of five meters, he loses three points of rage. Every time his attacks connect with anything, he gains two points of rage and any time he is struck he gains five points of rage. There are aesthetic visible changes to Ikarutori at every 25% rage capacity and will begin to emanate a differently colored glow. At 0% it will appear devoid of a glow, at 25% it will have a blue hue, at 50% a green, at 75% a yellow, and at 100% will contain a rather ominous red color.

Furious Action: When using this technique, Giriko will channel all of his accumulated fury in to his next attack to dramatically increase the potency of that skill. At low levels of rage, the increase is rather negligible but at Red Axe levels, a simple punch is capable of rather extreme destructive power. When the Furious Action is used, the rage counter is set to zero.




_________________________________



General Skills

• Durability: Adept
  
• General Speed: Advanced
  
• Strength: Advanced
  
• Weapon Skill: Adept
  

Racial Skills

• Hoho: Advanced
  
• Kidō: Advanced
  
• Zanjutsu: Beginner
  
• Hakuda: Advanced
  

Will Skills

• Willpower/Determination: Advanced
  
• Mental Deduction: Adept
  
• Pain Endurance: Advanced
  
• Focus: Master
  

_________________________________



• Roleplay Sample: (Please show us how you role play by either posting a previous post from another site or creating a new one. We do this so we know your RP skill. If you already have an accepted, you need not do another RP sample)