"There's no point tell my name to someone who wont be alive long enough to remember it." Eaon said as he stepped forward. His pray was easy enough this day, a Hollow in the streets of Karakura. The hollow enraged charged Eaon, who performed a flawless battojutsu and before the Hollow's body hit the ground he'd already been cut clean in two. The blood wisped by the young Shinigami, lightly coating his cheek and his blade. No one ever touched him. Nothing lived that long.

Eaon knew his breed seemed dying. All over the world the industrial age had taken over and old weapons like swords were being replaced with new rifles and guns. Here in Japan seemed safe for now. It was already 1812, and the five hundred years Eaon since Eaon was alive seemed to have just melted away as the blood of his foes did off of his blade under water. The world was changing, and something about Eaon hadn't changed. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about him held onto the past, like a mother clings to her child in a flood when she risks him washing away.

Though Eaon remained the optimist in this time, he was young relatively speaking. He'd aged well too, he only looked to be nineteen at the time. His hair was silky soft and tied back in a pony-tail and his robes were fine aside from some newly added blood stains. His fair skin stood out though amongst the Japanese city. If one couldn't see his skin, Eaon looked entirely like one of the Samurai, yet the moment they did he looked out of place. Not that most people could see any of that stuff anyway, Eaon was a Shinigami, dead to the eyes of the waking world, or something like that.

Normally Eaon didn't like coming to the World of the Living to kill Hollows. It seemed so mundane, however fall was quickly approaching and that got Eaon excited. He loved the way the air felt crisp but not cold in the fall and how beautiful nature looked when it turned gold. So even though Eaon was around simply to slaughter any local threats, it wasn't as though he wasn't enjoying himself. This was an escape from work, and an escape from the rumors back home. Word had gotten out that soon he would be promoted to Lieutenant and people seemed to want to talk to him about that a whole lot.

That bothered Eaon, not that they wanted to talk, but that some how him gaining a position meant something. Everyone thought that Eaon was moving up, that he'd be Captain soon if he continued the way he was. However Eaon had no desire to be a Captain, he really wasn't even sure he wanted to be a Lieutenant. He was just a swordsmen who killed when told and happened to be respectful. Anyone with half a mind and some courage could do that. Eaon wasn't special, or at least that's what he thought as he sat on top of a roof of a shop under a tree. Simply watching the river nearby flow peacefully.

((OOC: This thread is a flash back so no killing, otherwise anyone can join, the year is 1812))