What Makes a Monster? [History]

THE APPRENTICE

---

ONE CENTURY AGO

It was spring in the seireitei, cherry blossom petals fluttered frantically through the air as they drifted towards the ground. Seishiro was looking outside of the open windows adjacent to him as he sat there in front of his dining table, eating a meal cooked by Tokomaru-sama's current fling. Tokomaru-sama was always quite the skirt chaser. He thought this to himself as he noticed the woman bend over a counter to reach her flower pot from the window sill. It was a beautiful lavender tulip that caught his attention most; in life he had been allergic to pollen, though in death he was free of illness. Feeling the inherent desire to retreat from the pollen, he quickly began to excuse himself from the meal, and Tokomaru-sama began to explain the reason for the preparations he's been making.

Supplies for a month out in the Rukongai Wastelands were no easy feats, but it was child's play for Tokomaru-sama to have things arranged. Seishiro followed by his left side, standing about a foot back from him and maintaining a steady rate of pacing. He was trying to avoid the smell of the eel that rendered him nauseous. Neither of them liked eel, as far as he could tell. That was why he always tried to force it on Seishiro, who was the disciple. He would be the scapegoat, and it would serve to strengthen his resolve one day. But not before sickening his stomach with bad sushi.

" Loser has to eat the eel first. " Gone in the next instant, Seishiro let out a reluctant sigh. I swear, one day I'll beat him to the punch. It was impossible now for Seishiro to keep up with his sagacious guide, whose speed far outmatched his own. Stamping his foot hard into the soft earth beneath him, he lurched forward with a sudden burst of speed and parkoured his way through the bustling streets of the Rukongai Districts before a flash of the sun in the setting horizon gleamed at his eyes and he was momentarily blinded by the light. Disoriented by the sudden loss of vision in the middle of high-speed movement, he tumbled to the ground with a grunt.

Growling in frustration, he lifted himself off of the ground and patted away the dust and debris that was clinging to his robes, filthying them. Growing anxious for the training ahead though, Seishiro quickly renewed his pursuit of Tokomaru-sama. The sun was setting fast and soon he would be stranded and vulnerable if he didn't manage to find his tutor soon. Just as the final hours of twilight gave way to the cold, eerie night, Seishiro managed to find Tokomaru-sama already halfway through unpacking and already poised for Jinzen. A box filled with eel meat and other varieties of sushi lay next to him with a note stuck to it: Seishiro.

" Eat quickly, we begin immediately after you're finished. " It was unlike Tokomaru-sama to be so serious about training, so it must have been important. It wasn't long before Seishiro abandoned his meal out of distaste for eel and the two began meditating with their zanpakutou. Suddenly Seishiro was whisked away to his own inner world, where he met with his zanpakutou, Kishijojishi. Here he inquired if Kishijojishi knew what Tokomaru-sama wanted him to train for. Kishijojishi didn't oblige Seishiro with a response, but instead forced Seishiro out of the world almost as soon as he entered.

Tokomaru-sama was still meditating with jinzen, or so he appeared, which gave Seishiro a sudden thought; why not check to see what Tokomaru-sama had brought with them to reference? Kidou were the typical things they trained together, but they had both gained mastery of Kidou years ago. What more could they possibly need to strive for after coming so far already?

And so he opened Tokomaru-sama's rucksack and began rummaging through it before coming across an old tome emblazoned with runes alien to Seishiro. Upon opening it he found the book contained multiple incantations for Kido of an unknown nature. Without any idea what they would do, he tried to cast one of them randomly, hoping it would prove educational. Just as he neared the end of the incantation, Tokomaru-sama snapped out of his meditation and moved to silence Seishiro before he could unknowingly destroy them both.

Stubbornly insisting on Tokomaru-sama to explain what the Kidou did, he took a time to sit and ponder at Seishiro's words. Judgement weighed heavily on Seishiro, who up until this point had never had his loyalty questioned. Perhaps sneaking a peak at the old book had been a bad idea, but Tokomaru-sama had intended to share these Kidou with Seishiro. Seconds passed like years as he awaited Tokomaru-sama's response.

And so we discover that Tokomaru-sama wasn't a man who coveted this information, rather he saw it as a right to anyone who should come to gain the same level of knowledge in the arts as him. He strongly urged Seishiro never to look again until he was prepared to tell him himself--and then he slammed Seishiro in the gut with a sudden resolve to discipline his pupil--and Seishiro's world suddenly rushed around him as the sky became the ground and he fell on his face before his body crumpled down over him with painful sounds.

That was the caring but stern guide that Seishiro had in his years as naught but a prideful child of the Seireitei; he had yet to endure the tenure that those had served before him, but he was well on his way to becoming an influential member of their military. Soon, he hoped to begin taking seated positions. This was where he would finally become appreciated.

It was the drive to become appreciated and cared about that Seishiro had been chasing when he left for Hueco Mundo. His obligation to maintain peace--or let down those who depended on him--was what drove him towards his suicidal resolution to breach the dark reaches of Hueco Mundo and to endure the atrocities committed within. It was because something needed protected; but what was it exactly?

---

PRESENT

... Shi'kuyo, how old must you be now? Probably the spitting image of your ... These thoughts left him as he stared indignantly at the lone crescent which haunted his every moment. It was an unnatural feeling, walking in eternal darkness with a still moon on the horizon. Few people might find it enjoyable here, but Seishiro was enfeebled by the land itself, as if he were being siphoned of his strength.

He was stranded alone and exhausted, seeking shelter where there was none. Pondering the situation back home briefly, he sighed heavily and a dejected look crossed his eyes as he stared down at his hands and body. The very image of what he fought against clung to his form, almost out of necessity. It had been so long since he had removed the armor. He wasn't even certain how it had become stuck to him, though he suspected Illiana to have had some inkling as to what was happening to him.

Would there ever be a way out?

---

THE CORRUPTION

---

FIFTY YEARS AGO

" ... My name, Arrancar? " A taunting voice mused, instigating the Arrancar to take a more firm stance on the matter. She appeared no older than a small girl, the kind that obsess over their blanket and stuffed animals, or even a doll house filled with plastic figurines that represented people. But she was no person--she was a soul without light, a void created where her heart should have been. Eyes like the winter's chill and a gaze that had an intense hunger to them, she was the first Arrancar to ever compare to Seishiro in strength since coming here; in fact to say she compared was an understatement. Seishiro was at her mercy, for her power was a great deal more than even his. He couldn't hope to escape her, let alone defeat her. But what was it she wanted with him?



" I could help you get home, shinigami. " She could see right through his little charade; he was no more a shinigami than she was a teddybear. Her plush dolphin companion attested to the amusing nature of what lay before him; a shinigami dressed as a hollow. It was a perfect opposite to Illiana, who was a hollow wearing the zanpakutou of a shinigami. Perhaps this is why she felt inclined to help him. Or, as she insists, she is a perfectly insane sociopath who merely had an inherent interest in Seishiro's existence. This was not something to be proud of, as he essentially become forced to serve her in exchange for her 'mercy'. It was not the life Seishiro wanted, but he was so tired of being alone. Any company to ward off the depressing thoughts of imprisonment.

-MONTHS LATER

" I need to borrow you for something; don't worry, it won't hurt you anymore than it'll hurt me. " It was not a question nor a command; it was a statement that was all too true. As he turned to face Illiana who had disturbed his sleep in one of the crude beds that furnished her dwellings, he found he was being dragged against his will. Her words served to panic Seishiro, who was of course frightened of her power. But she still seemed to at least harbor a sort of mutual relationship between them. She was not his doom, but rather they were accomplices in what would undoubtedly become a grand scheme of hers. Or a tragic end to Seishiro's decades of suffering. Either way, he was prepared for what lay in store ahead of him.



He found himself in bondage, without a means to escape. Unaware of what was going around in the world around him, he simply gawked awkwardly into the distance, seeing nothing but shadow before him. Every moment more bindings were tethering him down, to prevent him from escaping. Restraint after restraint, seal after seal, he was soon bound by more than enough to secure him should he try his hardest to escape. If this was to be his end, he would face it admirably, and refused to show a sign of fear or apprehension when he felt a hand trace over his face, though it didn't do so affectionately, rather it was determining how best to go about its purpose.



Pain. Excruciatingly painful, he struggled against his bindings, finding renewed strength in the sudden burst of adrenaline that fueled his rage. Physically incapable of moving, all he could afford were a few angry shouts before regressing into nothing but grunts and gasps as he tried to keep himself together. What could she possibly want... with my eye? Is she toying with me? Is this her idea of fun? Blood trickled down from between his eyelids, culminating in a puddle at his knees slowly. How long until she took the next one?



But Illiana astonished Seishiro with what she did next. Twinging with pain, she was forced to pry his empty eye socket open with her fingers and bestowed upon him a replacement eye--her very own eye. Seishiro hadn't the slightest clue as to why she decided to exchange eyes with him--it took him until after recovering from the operation to even realize it wasn't his original eye. This warmed Seishiro to Illiana in a weird, decrepit way. She hadn't done that to torture him, though she wasn't against torturing him to achieve her own ends. And what, exactly, were those ends?

---

PRESENT

I see... So she cursed me. Seishiro had long since been rid of Illiana from his life, but her lasting impression haunted him and taunted him. He was no longer fit to call himself a shinigami, no longer a soul made of righteous virtues. Within him was her eye--her zanpakutou--that had begun manifesting its dark reiatsu within Seishiro's body. Seishiro was unfamiliar with how to counteract the oppressive reiatsu, or if it could even be remedied. But he had his solution now, although it was a reluctant necessity that forced him into this ultimatum.



Upon the throne of the late Illiana Wake, he brooded against the forces that had twisted him into this monstrous creature. Hueco Mundo was the end of all places, the end of all things. It had brought an end to the happy, thrilling life of Seishiro Itagaki and given birth to a new legend. A legacy of triumph over darkness through sheer force of will, one that would bring hope to a world shrouded in darkness.



But what, praytell, should be the name of this legend? What could invoke all of the right emotions from someone upon hearing the name of the man who walked the dunes of Hueco Mundo for a century, and emerged alive, but not without the scars of his past burdening him to this day? Legends are more than powerful; they are virtuous and champion their cause above all else, and sacrifice themselves before offering anyone else up.

---