Streams of yellow light filtered in through the windows of the studio apartment. Paintings on canvas lay scattered on the walls and drying in every available space, the contents seeming to have been from half a dozen different artists. Some were modern, others classic or celtic. But all the paintings came from one man. A lone figure at the far end of the room. He was Tamotsu Toshiyuki. Artist and a Shinigami Reincarnate.
It had been three months since he was made Captain of the unofficial Fourteenth Division of the Gotei Thirteen. It was a division made up solely of Reincarnates, as he was. On the surface Tamotsu was a fun, cheerful man of twenty-eight years of age. But to those closest, they knew that he was troubled. Several things bothered him, as they had ever since he regained his memories and Shinigami powers.
The memories were fine when they first started. A few things here and there, then his previous life came to him fully. Since then, however, even more memories flooded his mind. At first it was just the one, his previous life as a seemingly incompetent Shinigami. Then he learned of his life before that as the painter Vincent VanGogh. Soon after while conversing with his zanpakuto companion Hinohebi inside his inner world, he came into contact with another presence inside his mind; The zanpakuto from his lifetime before he was Vincent.
Since then, the memories did not stop. Tamotsu soon found he had to keep a detailed journal just so he could remember who he was some mornings. Another thing that came as a side effect of the memories was the power. In his previous life, he was unable to control it. And that had nearly caused the destruction of Seireitei. When he was born again as a human he was able to control it. At least, he could in the beginning. But as the memories returned with the power from that lifetime, it became more and more difficult to keep under control.
Weeks ago, Tamotsu had visited the Captain of the Twelfth Division, Mayuri Kurotsuchi. His request was for a devise that could absorb his excess reiatsu so that he would not have to concentrate so hard on suppressing it himself. The result was a pair of black cloth bracers he wore on his wrists. The concept was the same as Zaraki Kenpachi's eye patch. They would consume reiatsu. That was all they would do. Yet even now he could feel that he was having to suppress his power to a degree.
Looking at the painting he was working on, to which he had only faintly been paying attention, he found that it strongly resembled the roof of the Sistene Chapel in which God extended his finger to Adam. Had Tamotsu been Michaelangelo in one of his past lives? He might have cared at one point, but now he shrugged it off with indifference. He had long since stopped caring who he had been in the past. It only complicated things.
He knew of lives where he was an artist, a Shinigami, even one set of memories where he had been a Hollow. He wasn't the only one. Naomi Kanagawa, whom Tamotsu had not assigned a seated position due to her refusal to do battle, also had memories of being a Hollow. He had told no one else. Naomi had felt glad not to be alone in that field, but other than the two of them it seemed all the other Reincarnates only remembered a single past life.
The Hollows. This was the third thing which had been eating away at Tamotsu's mind. He had fought them on countless occasions in both lives past and present. But now things were different. He could not look upon a Hollow with anger, hatred or contempt. Was it because he had once been one of them at some point in his past? Or was there something else? One thing he did know was that he had been seeking to find out what the Hollows had lost.
It was well known that when a Plus, a soul separated from their body in the World of the Living, remained for too long there was a piece of their heart that left them. They hid who they once were behind a mask, a hole in their chest representing a piece that was missing. But what was that part? What was missing? And once he discovered what it was, could he find a way to replace it and end the war between Shinigami and Hollow for good?
His best bet lay with a female Arrancar he had met months ago in the Spirit World. Kisaki was her name. She had refused to fight, insisting that she wanted to be slain by a Shinigami due to her claim to be unable to handle the burden of the empty heart any longer. Tamotsu had spared her, but had since not so much as heard of her name. Deep within himself, he knew that she held the key to understanding.
As the sunlight faded further, the colors dimming and the light switching to the electric glow, Tamotsu continued to paint. It was the only thing that remained constant for him. Here, his mind could wander. There was no one to judge him and no one to impress. Only him and his solace.
The night air felt cool as Takeo Saegusa stood on top of a telephone pole in his Shinigami form. With his double-bladed zanpakuto on his back he stood tall and opened himself to his surroundings. Being unable to speak due to a Hollow that had nearly torn his throat out he often found himself on patrol. He was a man of action and preferred to act rather than dwell on things.
Ever since the night when he lost his ability to speak, he had been in search of the woman he loved. It was true that he was finally able to send Haomi Ono to the Soul Society but it did little to comfort him. In the several successive visits he had made to the realm of souls he had yet to find her again. When a Konso was performed there was no telling where they would show up in the Soul Society. But he had been diligent.
It was odd being part of a new Division. Still new, there was no real set mission for the Fourteenth Division to take part in. All of its members were human who had regained their memories of a previous life as a Shinigami. Takeo was no different. He had been part of Captain Zaraki Kenpachi of the Eleventh Division in his own past life. He was a fighter. He needed action in order to be happy. Yet with all the Hollows he had slain in the time since he regained his abilities and memories he still felt an emptiness. There had to be more.
Opening his mind further, Takeo spread his awareness. He still felt nothing out of the ordinary. No odd senses of reiatsu and no wandering spirits to care for. Without realizing it, Takeo began to rub the two horizontal scars across his throat from when the Hollow had attacked him. It had become a habit of his when he was bored. And with nothing to physically do his mind wandered. He hated when his mind wandered. It made him think of things he would rather not.
Shrugging off the approaching thoughts, Takeo jumped up and landed on a sheet of reishi he created. The effect had him standing in the air to the untrained eye. But there were no eyes to see him. Reaching around, he grabbed the padded center of his zanpakuto and began to spin. The movements were graceful from years of practice, but grace with such a weapon made it all the more deadly.
Suddenly stopping, Takeo spun around and struck at an imaginary foe. He twirled his weapon high over his head and advanced, swinging twice more before a stab. Looking over his shoulder at another imaginary foe he performed a shunpo jump and struck three times quickly. He would normally have cried out in a yell during many of these strikes but his wound prevented such.
Several more imaginary foes appeared. In Takeo's mind he approached several at once and cut them down. Five imaginary Hollows surrounded him. He dodged their attacks and cut off limbs and sliced through torsos. Slicing through the mask of his final invisible foe, Takeo held the final stance for several seconds before he scanned the area once more. Satisfied, he replaced his blade behind him.
This had become a habit of his. He would fight imaginary foes. He would win some battles, lose others, and sometimes lose a limb. It kept his mind sharp. It kept him open to whatever type of situation he could come up with. Five foes or one hundred. With this type of practice he would be ready for anything.
Alone in the sky he stood, staring as the moon finally rose from the horizon. This was his solace. Standing there in the night sky with only the moon and the stars as his companions. It felt as if nothing else mattered. Taking another breath, he walked downward on invisible steps to the ground. There was no need to hurry. He had exhausted his boredom and now decided it was time to go home.
Clouds passed over the moon as Naomi Kanagawa looked out from her window. With no real family and having been released from a mental institution by Rangiku Matsumoto and Tamotsu Toshiyuki due to her hallucinations, which later she found to be real, she had been offered a room to stay in at Kisuke Urahara's shop. She remembered the days where she was said to be insane because of her insisting upon there being monsters. So alone and rejected that she took on a dark outlook on life. But the monsters were real. They were called Hollows.
Although still young at the age of sixteen, Naomi had always been short. She couldn't remember a time when she had any real friends. Until, that is, she remembered her past life as a Shinigami. Serving under Captain Kyoraku she had people she could rely on. Even with her life before that, remembering her existence as a Hollow, Kyoraku never judged her harshly. She hadn't told anyone else about that instance, she herself only remembering a few months previous when she regained her powers.
So much had happened, yet it all seemed so natural. She did not like fighting, but during the battle of the Reincarnates three months ago she had to. They had won the battle and the three who wanted to avenge their fates against Soul Society, Masao Rin, Goro Ojima and Ayame Yamaguchi, have since returned to their own lives. They were, after all, officers of the law and had their own duties to perform. Peace was made between them and their former Captains and they parted ways as old friends.
Peace. It seemed so real right now. But deep within herself Naomi knew that whenever there was a time of peace there was always something over the horizon. There had been a few skirmishes with the Hollows but overall it seemed so quiet. And that bothered her. As much as she despised fighting and violence it was sometimes necessary to retain that peace.
Sighing, Naomi looked up once again to the stars through her window. It almost reminded her of the vast deserts of Hueco Mundo. A land of constant night and the dimension of the Hollows. Closing her eyes she could see the white sands and stone trees. It was so vivid in her mind, as if she could reach out and touch the cold surface. But even though the land was real she didn't worry. It was in her past and she did not want to return to that cold place again.
Moving her thoughts elsewhere she thought of her new Captain. Tamotsu Toshiyuki. He had accepted her without any discouragement. Even when she approached him about her memories from being a Hollow he did nothing to dictate that he thought any ill will toward her. If anything that was, in her mind, the beginning of his quest to find out what exactly a Hollow had lost from its heart.
Naomi could remember an emptiness and a striving to fill the void with something. Anything. Yet no matter what she did and how many time she killed or consumed other souls the void remained. Then, after being struck point blank with a Kido spell, the pain vanished and she appeared elsewhere. It was then she saw Kyoraku for the first time. He was so kind to her and later joined his squad.
Even though she felt peace at that moment, Naomi knew that Tamotsu was deeply troubled. He acted as though everything was all right and frequently made spontaneous actions that often amused her. But recently there had been so much wavering energy from within him. She could read him, but said nothing. He always came forward with information eventually. But she worried for him. So many inconsistencies and sudden trips to the Soul Society. There was a darkness on the horizon and it was clear that whatever events the future would hold, Tamotsu Toshiyuki would be at the heart of it.
Lying back down on her bed Naomi closed her eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep. Something was going to happen soon, there was no doubt in her mind. But she had complete faith in her Captain. Her friend. Whatever happened she knew there was one constant. She would follow Tamotsu Toshiyuki, Captain of the Fourteenth Division of the Gotei Thirteen, anywhere he would go.