h a u n t /e d

H A U N T E D

[obakeyashi]

#obakeyashi ——— indie. bleach multi. original characters written by aera (30+ / she-they). activity is sporadic. preferred writing methods lean towards plotted & para/novella. shipping isn't a priority and highly based on chemistry.

—————————————————————————————— 𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝒶𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝑜𝒸

[obakeyashi]

its okay, she's the one theyre all looking at

[ketsumyo]

血妙 | SHE LAUGHED ! “picture it, Hottori Vi reading me bedtime stories!” the equivalent of a wolf giving warmth to a housecat. 

catching her own exaggeration, tsubaki lifted a placating hand as her mirth mellowed into something gentler. “ no, no, I don't expect to make you my nursemaid of literature. I’m simply being ostentatious—and it’s a little artifice, if you will. should anyone”—the lieutenant—“take umbrage with my speaking to you, I might at least claim I'd exhausted every sensible avenue before turning to you on matters of classical antiquity.”

she paused, letting humour ebb toward thought, and drew from her kiseru as kidō sparked quietly at its tip. “ it wasn’t just the wine or the unabashed rutting that intrigued me. ” she said at last. “ it was how they saw the fundamental things. blood, for instance—our people’s views are like night and day. so, naturally, I find myself wondering: what else is different?” 

when, after all, is a shinigami—servant to an afterlife built upon a single people’s beliefs—ever given the chance to converse with one born to a world wholly separate from her own? she longed to know life. all of it. untrimmed of instinct and unshackled by propriety⸻or, less fancifully: the cat was curious.

“I hear you've a talent for immovability and an honesty that makes the skin of my people crawl. so who better to ask?”

her laughter returned, softer this time. “besides—if learning about Dionysus is as good as asking the Captain about his weekend, then I’m clearly directionless without you.”

“humour me!” she needled. “strangest thing you’ve had to get used to?”

[obakeyashi]

While this woman seemed to find amusement in the interaction, Vi's expression offered nothing. Just a steady stare of a tenured soldier; in life, in death, she didn't know anything else. Some would argue she refused to know anything else... She had not been some oppressed woman of Athens, surrounded by men who loved to hear themselves speak. War was war. The difference in weapons only mattered in the outcome, not the violence.

It had been centuries. Questions of her origin had never felt genuine; it had only felt as if she were viewed as nothing more than a fantastical beast trapped in a cage to be poked and prodded. The 'othering' had never truly left, but even Vi would admit it had been some time since it had been splashed in her face as an unpleasant reminder. It wasn't her 'honesty' that caused her to be painted like the threat within a cautionary tale. It was all the things, like a frightening story, that no one could prove.

It was how the last time someone had bounced around her feet with a gleeful smile and not a shred of self preservation, she'd held their head under the water to simply be rid of the irritation. Of course, there was no water here. Just the blinding glint off a golden spear within arms reach.

If she was so curious about philosophical views over blood, would she be fascinated by her own? Vi was leashed here, but she wasn't muzzled. She wouldn't be harshly reprimanded as long as this woman's heart was still beating... Would she find the humor in how quickly one could bleed to death?

Despite all her thoughts circling far from the topic offered to her, she still answered the question. What was the strangest thing forced upon her?

"This."

[obakeyashi]

sometimes i think vi has a 'boomer mentality' lmao when it comes to the gotei, she's SO bitter and resistant to change in the worst way like

she HATES that the gotei ISNT just a bunch of lawless murderers anymore

[lemonaera]

i spent a week drawing for MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[ketsumyo]

血妙 | why is it that people always assume a vicious woman must also be vindictive? must be cruel in the small ways—the useless ways? as if strength in a woman had to come with teeth for chewing on bones. 

she didn’t say it. she let the observation go unvoiced, offering only unsurprised exasperation—that soft kind of irritation women have perfected after centuries of not being taken seriously.

—— “ for what . ”

the shift was sharp, but she saw it. watched as mirth drained to a stare. not anger. not even the good kind of hate. just emptiness. the kind of hollow that could tear—and would.

that’s what people never quite understand about predators: it’s not the snarl that’s frightening—it’s the silence. the vacancy. the sheer absence of emotion. the same stillness that hums through the bones of the earth before an earthquake. 

kuragane tsubaki held her place. she wasn’t fearless—no, that would be dull. she was curious, and curiosity is the worst kind of bravery: the kind that makes you lean forward when you should be running.

“ dionysus. ” she said. just the name. no rehearsed etiquette, none of that charming musicality she used to soften tension—only a seriousness that underpinned her sincerity. 

“ I do have a book, ” she went on to confess and, just like that, her tone lightened with a chuckle. “ but it’s in Greek. I can’t read a damned word of it ! ”

and that was it; the truth of it. just a woman sitting across from something dangerous—something beautiful and cruel—asking about a god who fucked mortals and tore them apart, made madness into worship, and blood into ecstasy.

[obakeyashi]

"Dionysus." Vi repeated the name flatly, as though the most unimpressive gift had been dropped at her feet. The name hadn't meant much to her in life, it meant nothing to her in death. She would admit it was rare to see anyone in Seireitei show much of an interest in cultures or mythologies outside their own, however, did this woman expect her to be excited by that?

What was exciting about an implied proposition to be a translator...

"You want me to read you fairytales ... "

There were no Greek Gods here; she had learned (accepted) that long ago. Oh there were Gods. There were monsters. There were all manners of odd and supernatural things — they were one of those things. But here: her history, her motherland, they were just memories; a fairytale. "I know there's no exact equivalent in Japanese mythology to some God that loves getting drunk and having orgies, but he's not interesting enough to read an entire book about..."

"You could just ask your Captain about his weekend, there wouldn't be much difference..."

[ketsumyo]

血妙 | tsubaki laughed—not because the response was clever, though it was—but because it was true. she liked that kind of wit. nothing personal. just accurate.

“ mm. well—almost exactly where she wanted to place it. ” she replied, voice lilting with restrained amusement. a slow shift of her shoulder unhooked her from the post. she stepped forward, then invited herself onto the edge of the engawa—far enough away to respect the wariness of of a predator, but close enough to engage. 

“ I’d wager your porch is ise’s second choice,” she offered, humour still prominent in her smile. “ your back was undoubtedly her first. ”

habitual fingers slipped beneath the folds of her obi and drew out her kiseru pipe—slender, burnished, worn to the shape of her hand.

“ I’ve been in the eighth for the better part of a century now, ” she said, the cadence of her voice shifting—from humorous peace greeting to her truer motive: curiosity.

“ but I’ve never managed to pin you down . . . ” she paused, thoughtful. “ if Ise-san’s been trying to spare me, then I must say, she’s done a remarkably good job. ” 

her smirked tugged at one corner. “ well . . . until today. ”

who else was going to steal that poster ?

[obakeyashi]

"I told her I'd wear it on a shirt if she made me one, but she only accused me of mocking her." Vi had been entirely genuine in the offer, but Nanao never trusted a word off her tongue if it sounded anything resembling amicable. A lieutenant who would never trust her, and a captain who trusted her far too much...

Then of course, there was whoever this woman was. What category would she find suitable? She'd have to pick one if she planned to linger about all afternoon. Though as Tsubaki comfortably carried on, Vi considered making the choice for her.

"For what." The languid joviality had vanished from her voice, her tone now landed and hard and flat as her stare. Vi had raised herself into a seated position, though seemed content enough to remain sitting for the time being.

This woman wouldn't be the first to speak of trying to track her down, and it had yet to be for any unbothersome reason. Someone was always on about her 'stealing a bounty' or 'murdering their friend' (even though they could never prove it) or whatever other whining complaint they had. So which was this going to be? A demand for compensation or confession.

[obakeyashi]

fun reminder that vi was constantly bullied by a woman 3 inches shorter than her

[obakeyashi]

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 — … Vi more or less being thrown into Soul Society went about as smoothly as one would expect. The language barrier was the largest issue, but so was her military upbringing. Since there couldn't be a conversation (or argument) there could only be violence. Most people she crossed paths with either had no combat training or it was rudimentary at best, as they were civilians in Rukongai. The first weapon she had was a butchers knife. She switched it out with a katana after coming across one, but katanas weren't made the same as a kopis, and there was most certainly a learning curve (not that she properly learned on her own). Her saving grace was because she was a woman, she was never formally trained in formation fighting so she didn't rely on it. It obviously would not have served her given she was alone.

Vi was not setting out to be a killer. She was simply trying to survive, but her methods revolved around taking what she needed and then killing the consequences. She would eventually come across Yamamoto while he was still building an army to create Seireitei. She killed several of his men, and when confronted about it, the only way they could get confirmation was pointing to their corpses, then to her, and her nodding. Yamamoto absolutely could have killed her right then and there. He didn't, and Unohana was a large reason why. Not because of anything she did, but because this was very similar to how he found her and she was proving to be an unrivaled asset. The problem was, he couldn't talk to Vi. But he also had someone who could.

This is when Vi meets Ichibe. Ichibe is a master of words. He knew her true name, though would eventually give her a new one (Vi Hottori). The fact that he named her is something only the two of them know. Why would she allow him to do this? It's a complicated answer. Vi would come to have a very intense loyalty to Ichibe that was arguably quick to be given. Part of that was because of his nature. She responded very well to his overall demeanor, but a large part was also due to the fact that he was the first person she had been able to speak to in years. Because there was no language barrier between them (due to his own abilities), he did not struggle with her the same way everyone else would.

Ichibe would be the one to teach her Japanese, teach her the culture, and secure her as a soldier for Yamamoto ... which was actually the easiest part. A soldier in an army? Yeah, that's all she knew anyway. No problems there. She was given a zanpakuto which instantaneously took the shape of a dory spear, and when asked the name, there was no hesitation from her to claim it was Ares. Ichibe was delighted by this, everyone else was ... reserved. He is also to thank for furthering her training as far as wielding a spear goes, as his calligraphy brush is carried much the same as a spear.

In many ways, Ichibe was repeating Vi's living history with her, having been raised by a single father. Whether or not she views him as a true father figure, even she doesn't know, but regardless she has and still holds an obvious soft spot for him. She was genuinely sad to see him leave for the Soul King's Palace at the formation of the Zero Division.

[obakeyashi]

𝐒𝐇𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀 ( @choukaimon​ ) sent : With all but the most final preparations completely, Shutara cast one more glance around the shinigami gathered to see them off, and found her eyes drawn to a flash of violent  — eyes she remembered from their youth, vibrant and joyful gone vacant, haunted. The orbs in her grasp shifted as she sauntered closer, a single arm unfurling to brush the cold touch of her knuckles against her cheek.

❝ Don’t look so pained, my dear. Kirinji can do what your Captains here cannot, ❞ she said, with a pointed look towards the Fourth Division’s. Her gaze wandered, then, to the shinigami in her possession: the handsome young Lieutenants, and even a Kuchiki heir. Which, she wondered, had Eri so concerned? The weaver supposed it didn’t matter, as her gaze slid back, and she offered some bit of comfort in her own way. ❝ They’ll be back soon enough. ❞

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 that came with anxiety; a physical chilling sensation that clung to her arms. Yet that didn’t seem to keep her fingers from trembling. Juushiro had not let her out of his sight since he’d stopped her from preforming a task she had been so convinced was her responsibility (was still quietly convinced). She’d been too weak — too easily swayed by her childhood friend.

Her father gave his life (had always been willing to give his life) for the protection of the Gotei. The true source of his strength, his loyalty, his pride — the very thing he had built from nothing. She had been willing to do the same;she should have done the same. Then all of this would be over. What was her life to the hundreds that had already been lost — to more that would surely die to this boiling blood feud. Eri had tried to argue that in her distress, but Juushiro had insisted it wasn’t what her father would have wanted. She had wavered at his words because …

Because wouldn’t he know better? Didn’t he and Shunsui know him better than she ever had, no matter how hard she’d tried? He had never given her a direct command to follow, only vague words that felt like a weight and a goodbye all the same. She couldn’t tell where her shame ended and her grief began.

She had lied to herself; offered a bitter comfort that Byakuya would have understood her choice. It had felt so much easier when the coldness of loss was blanketing her. When she had thought he too was just one more gravestone she’d have to visit. Byakuya also held a willingness to die for the Gotei; a sworn oath all Captains had taken but some held more nobility and honor than others. … And who held more of that, than him.

Hope had already abandoned her, sunk in her heart like a stone lost to a tumultuous sea. Byakuya had barely managed to escape the same fate as so many others, but how was she to take solace in seeing him encapsulated, bandaged nearly beyond recognition. Instead of a clean cut to her heart, she had been left to watch him die when Unohana had exhausted all her talents.

The crimson eyes that beckoned her attention were distantly familiar — as was the voice that followed. For as much as Eri wanted to find reassurance in the weaver’s words, her presence alone washed her with deeper mourning. It was not Senjumaru’s fault, but how could she not think of her mother when she looked at her face. Her family was gone now, and Shutara aimed to carry off what felt like the last piece of her soul; no matter what she said there was no promise in her words. Or maybe it was more that now, Eri simply couldn’t bear to hold any hope at all…

[obakeyashi]

@galeforged

"TRY THIS!!!!!!!"

Her nearly shouted words were more ... a warning ... rather than a request. Seeing as how the muffin was promptly shoved into his mouth. She had her arms full of an entire basket of them. She'd spent all morning baking, trying to come up with a new spring flavor. Banana Macha is what she'd come up with this year.

"... Is it bad --

NO.

Don't tell me, I can't live with the shame."

[obakeyashi]

top views on vi

ichibe:

shutara:

unohana:

yamamoto:

shunsui:

grimmjow:

[ketsumyo]

血妙 | and for reasons she could not—or perhaps chose not to—fathom, kuragane tsubaki found herself curiously drawn to the promise of chaos.

“ huh , ” the sound slipped from her, soft and speculative, as she leaned one shoulder against the wood pole—just shy of that one such poster that had been, rather unceremoniously, requisitioned and repositioned. 

her red eyes regarded the equally red lettering, vivid against the paper’s weather-softened grain.

she recognised the brushwork instantly—long-practiced, precise, but pulsing with barely restrained vexation. nanao, of course. no one else wielded a brush like a reprimand.

“ fourth street, west of the barracks, ” she recited aloud, her lips curving to a smile touched with amusement. “ you know, ise-san has the locations of these things memorised down to the very wood knot. I didn’t expect my first duty of the morning would involve chasing down a missing warning poster . . . ”

the smile deepened, unfurling into a soft chuckle. her gaze drifted, sanguine and steady, toward the woman who had become the unfortunate centerpiece of the lieutenant’s most recent grievances—and, increasingly, the focus of kuragane tsubaki’s own curiosity.

“ it looks good here, ” she remarked at last. “ I’ll say it ended up in the river . ” 

[obakeyashi]

A place for everything; everything in its place. A mantra of Nanao's, she was quite sure. Despite all the flurry and frenzy around Vi's short stays, she had never harmed Nanao in all the years she'd been hiding beneath Shunsui's pink skirt. It had left her a contradiction of both timid and emboldened. Not quite old enough to confirm the danger, but a smart enough head on her shoulders to sense it. More than could be said of their Captain...

"You can tell her I took it." Amusement played across Vi's lips, a single eye lazily opening to find the source of her visitor, "It's exactly where she wanted to place it anyhow." With a languid stretch, Vi continued, dotting the end of her words with a shrug, "Might cause her to write something nice of me in her little diary for once."

[kageoni]

Kindness is scarce in the way she speaks to him. A wolf remains a wolf no matter how many times it might try to shed its pelt. And this she-wolf, urge made flesh, yearns to wet her teeth on the lifeblood of his heart. But Shunsui, ever exposed, still holds it out to her—a fragile offer, a quiet plea for her to see his lament.

“ I see, “ he responds with a drawn-out sing-song, gripping the sketch his hands have been fiddling with. He holds it up, looks at it, then at her. Nostalgia tugs at him, but he finds it futile to placate her—no gain in summoning more yesterdays.

Unsure, he sighs again, despair creeping back like some long-lost lover. To a degree, he understands her yearning. To yearn for freedom is to be alive, and in her story, he is now nothing more than a perpetrator excusing his abuse. Once again, she’s managed to steer him where she wanted. Hollow ache swirls in his stomach, the back of his throat tightens and the inside of his mouth begins carrying the tang of battery acid. Guilt.

“ If there is nothing else you wish to speak of, I’d rather we postpone this discussion. “ He forces a smile, lifting his gaze just enough to meet hers. His eye closes briefly, and the faint curve of his lips falters. His chin quivers as he bites down on his lip, an attempt to stifle the torment clawing at him. “ Please. “

[obakeyashi]

I never even wanted to be here.

The words curdled on her tongue, begging to be spat out at his feet. He wasn't going to give her what she wanted, and she wasn't capable of giving him what he pleaded for.

He thought her unkind, but what kindness was she ever shown. What he viewed as a gentle stroke against her cheek had always felt like sandpaper. His kindness never dulled the prongs against her throat.

She could have easily gone the same path as Aizen. She could have inspired an army to topple the old man's bleached white city into bone dust. What differed between them wasn't compassion; neither seemed to have any. It was intelligence, as far as she was concerned. Or maybe just experience. She had seen the demon the old man kept burning in the pit of his stomach. She knew what waited at the gates of 'heaven'. Aizen was a fool blinded by his own ego. And now he suffered a fate worse than death. The one fate she would never risk... She could endure choking on a leash, but she'd snap her own neck before she'd allow herself to be caged

That was how they kept her bound. That was how they kept her muzzled. That... was the only reason she was standing there at all. Forced to endure the mournful sighs of a man picking desperately through shattered remains of faux faces. He had loved the old man, but not all of him. He may even stupidly still claim to care for her. It wasn't real; it never had been. He painted a beautiful portrait of her, blissfully unaware of how wrong the colors were. Foolishly edging rounded corners where they ought to have been sharp and unforgiving. That painting had turned now, hadn't it? He stared at her now as if desperate to see the resemblance. Desperate not to have one more thing to mourn.

He would only have himself to blame for that one. She had never lied. She had warned him time and time again. He had not listened to her. It was the weight of the words of others that held meaning to him now. How was pouring disappointment over her for not being something she had never been, ever to be viewed as kindness...

What else was there to say? If he wanted to drown in his sorrow, she wouldn't stop him. If he wanted mercy, he could find it in her abandonment. The motion of her body was a silent as a shadow as delicate fingers lifted to take a rested Ares back into her grasp before allowing the darkness that awaited outside to swallow her from his sight.

[obakeyashi]

“C’mere, Vi.” A long drawl, smooth and deep— Grimmjow watches and waits with an eager thrumming only she can incite within him.

A slow breath was drawn past her parted lips while a whisper of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Whether or not she would comply with any given request was a risk he loved to gamble. He did tend to get his way ... however long it took.

Today she would not be so easily lured. He beckoned her closer only for her feet to shift backwards. It wasn't true defiance, it never was. Memories of his fingertips leaving bruising possessive marks on her skin was enough to send a race of excitement along her spin. She would reward him once she felt he'd earned it — or ... reward herself with him as her prize, whichever whim won her over first.

Either way, the game must be played for there to even be a prize.

Those first few seconds of tension were like nothing else. A faux danger of an empty attempt to escape a predator. It was akin to a dance; a steady slow tempo that preceded a flurry of movement. A final reply was offered before she vanished from his sight.

"Convince me."

[kageoni]

Her reply garners a chuckle, faint and hollow, filling the empty air. Though he’s unamused, he forces the sound in defiance of adversity. Unsure whether her observation is said only in jest in order to lighten his disposition, Shunsui tries to move on from the fact at hand: his inability to lead, at least by Vi’s words. “ Any other changes you’d like to interpose during my tenure? Anything I should be wary of? “

With quiet resignation, Shunsui surmises that steering the conversation toward distant shores would hold no treasure of meaning after all. He falls backwards onto his desk, his arms supporting his weight. “ You know better than anyone how to employ the power of words. You wound me. And the tip of your proverbial spear is inching too close to my heart. So allow me, just this once, a moment of respite. “

His head propels upwards and freezes for a few moments. Memories flicker behind his lidded eye—fragments of halcyon days, before the weight of leadership bore down on him. A defeated exhale follows, and it’s then that his palms begin to wander the wooden surface of his desk, grasping at the papers littered about.

Eventually, Shunsui tilts his head somewhat, identifying a scribble she once haphazardly left behind. A sketch depicting a younger version of himself—lighter in demeanor, yet lacking the same sincerity. She sees him for what he is, but spares no lenience or mock compassion when she persecutes him now. She never did.

“ Perhaps you should try feeling more in my stead. Would it be selfish of me to ask you that? A fair trade, if you ask me. “

[obakeyashi]

Oh to truly be a wolf —— if only she could bare her teeth at him to display her displeasure in light of having to voice it. She asked for her freedom; for a longer leash, and he mocks it. Does he even realize the power he has over her now? Does he even care? Every striking cord of his baritone voice felt like a tightening around her throat. He did not know what it was to be wounded by her, no matter how many scars she left on his flesh.

There was no respite! He moaned of selfishness, of torment with all his poetic flourish and he sounded like a petulant child. He sees one war and it breaks him. He buries barely a handful of those he cared for and it breaks him. The forged weapon of his soul is nothing more than a languid whore that urges him to close his eyes and let go.

Hers was a hammer. An epitome of war gnawing relentlessly at her own ribs, enraged at being caged. There was no respite. If anyone was tormented it was her, and he didn't care. He would never care. All he did was long for pity that she would never give. She had not put him in this position. ... She has never had as say in hers either.

"You're the one whining about my presence. I'm merely offering you a remedy."

[kageoni]

“ That makes us two, ” he muses to himself, rhetorical, allowing her to further steer him. Masochistic almost, Shunsui remains open to her assault.

He exhales a lengthy sigh, tension ebbing from his chest. Shunsui gives her question a fair amount of thought, pensive. While his eye remains glued to the approaching nightfall, he forces himself to lose focus, to block out some of the incoming, pointless aggression. “ Do suggest a more proper fit in my stead—I’m curious. ” He isn’t, but against his instinct which warns him of her bite, he chooses to indulge her a while longer. There’s still fight in him, despite knowing that tilting at windmills never took him anywhere.

“ Was, by the way, ” he emphasizes, a tacit challenge. “ Some are capable of overcoming their nature. ” His hands fall slack to his sides, he turns his head to face her now, his expression contorting somewhat. “ Some are not. I suppose I oftentimes give credit where it isn’t due. Belonging isn’t for everyone, I suppose. ”

A pause. Shunsui turns his head back to the horizon, his arms coming to a fold across his chest while his palms interlace in the sleeves of his haori.

“ So, if you don’t care where I’ve been and you’re done tormenting me for no other reason than it being fun for you, why are you here, Vi? ”

[obakeyashi]

"That would require me to know what he wanted. That isn't anything I would have known." It isn't a mournful admittance, but rather a plainly offered statement. She was nothing more than another toy soldier to Yamamoto, one of the many chess pieces he moved across the board at whim. Did she have her own personal thoughts on who would have made a good successor? Maybe. It didn't matter all the same. Shunsui was chosen and he would bear that weight till it broke his bowed back.

His defense of their fallen leader came as no surprise. He had changed. Just as Unohana had. Just as the Gotei had. You are the only one who hasn't. Words likely meant as a slap that she'd gone numb to centuries ago. Yamamoto had done little to discipline her; had left that to Yachiru. And when Yachiru had given up? Then there had been no one. Shunsui knew nothing of discipline, not even for himself. She had found it curious enough his attempts to soften her. A gentle hand instead of an iron fist. He must not have liked what he'd gotten in return.

After all, he'd never asked for her. She had come to him like a creeping shadow; a murky mirror to the darker parts of his own nature. She must have been the one now who was so very unpleasant.

It was fair to say she didn't belong. She had been useful, but always an unmatched color woven into an otherwise symmetrical tapestry. But was it fair to say she'd never changed? No... She had changed. He just wasn't alive to see it.

What is so wrong with my nature. Why is it always me that must change. These frustrated thoughts had been dragged behind her from the very beginning, but never voiced and thus never answered.

"... I don't have to come back. You have the ability to pressure Central 46 to change the requirements for how often I'm obligated to torment you."