Duquin
((I'd have discussed the thread more with you through pms, but I can't send any yet since I am a newer member. Long story short, my character is a fight maniac so if you don't want a battle this thread is probably going to end up very short lol))
It was an odd time for Ginsen Daizo. He had just requested permission to transfer out of the 2nd division and into the 11th in hopes of living a life more suited to his combat oriented nature. Thinking it would change his mind, Ginsen's commanding officer gave him some time off in order to relax and think the decision over. This only made the 400 year old samurai even more restless however. He was not one to drink his worries away in Rukongai or sleep in like his peers. Only one thing calmed Ginsen's spirit and made him feel at ease. The dangerous dance of life and death that was performed between the edge of ones own blade and the cold steely brunt of an enemies blood lust. Ever since he was born in the world of the living, Ginsen has lived every breath towards that moment when the entire world washes away and nothing is left except a warrior and his blade against their foe.
At times like this, Ginsen would be off training. Studying new styles or reading books on war tactics. But sadly Ginsen's commander thought that was part of the problem and ordered him to not do any training. Instead he was to "relax" and while that was far from what the blonde haired shinigami desired, he was nothing if not an obedient soldier. Taking a sigh Ginsen found himself laying on the roof of a building in the middle of Seireitei looking up at the endless blue sky. Ginsen's azure blue eyes peered up into that vast expanse as if he were expected to see something. Painted on that blue canvas was a day dream of a war. A war between shinigami, hollows, arrancar, quincy, it didn't matter who. Everyone was an enemy. An endless battle field on which he could fight forever, killing famous enemies and attaining the glory which he had been raised to seek. The mean reached up a hand into the sky, longing to grasp that future.
It was an odd time for Ginsen Daizo. He had just requested permission to transfer out of the 2nd division and into the 11th in hopes of living a life more suited to his combat oriented nature. Thinking it would change his mind, Ginsen's commanding officer gave him some time off in order to relax and think the decision over. This only made the 400 year old samurai even more restless however. He was not one to drink his worries away in Rukongai or sleep in like his peers. Only one thing calmed Ginsen's spirit and made him feel at ease. The dangerous dance of life and death that was performed between the edge of ones own blade and the cold steely brunt of an enemies blood lust. Ever since he was born in the world of the living, Ginsen has lived every breath towards that moment when the entire world washes away and nothing is left except a warrior and his blade against their foe.
At times like this, Ginsen would be off training. Studying new styles or reading books on war tactics. But sadly Ginsen's commander thought that was part of the problem and ordered him to not do any training. Instead he was to "relax" and while that was far from what the blonde haired shinigami desired, he was nothing if not an obedient soldier. Taking a sigh Ginsen found himself laying on the roof of a building in the middle of Seireitei looking up at the endless blue sky. Ginsen's azure blue eyes peered up into that vast expanse as if he were expected to see something. Painted on that blue canvas was a day dream of a war. A war between shinigami, hollows, arrancar, quincy, it didn't matter who. Everyone was an enemy. An endless battle field on which he could fight forever, killing famous enemies and attaining the glory which he had been raised to seek. The mean reached up a hand into the sky, longing to grasp that future.