Bleach Vengeance Mine Justice Ours

Lord Raine

Well-Known Member
#1
We had to let go. We had to say goodbye. We were sacrificed. But that's alright. Really, it's fine. You probably don't believe me, but I mean it. I don't mind. Some of them do, but I don't. Because I know that in the end, it'll all even out. What goes around, comes around. We'll get our chance to return the favor.

I can still remember the feeling of strength leaving me as I vomited up a darkness from my gut. A darkness that was as pale and hard as bone. I can remember the feeling. It threw me off. After so many centuries of training to perfect my power, I can't even describe the feeling. I felt so empty, so powerless, like someone had hollowed me out, and just left a shell behind. But I was so strong. It was like reaching blindly into a hole you knew held what you were looking for, something you couldn't possibly miss, and hitting nothing but wall. I felt sick. Empty. Cold. Like all the blood had run out of me, all the strength had left me. But I was strong. And when I tried to use kido, the spells failed. In their place, shining deadlights burned on my fingertips. Void.

I'll never forget the feeling. Never.

They think we betrayed them. Soul Society. They think we turned our backs on them. They're wrong, of course. And some of us have some resentment about that still. 'What loyalty do we owe,' they think, and because I know them, I can hear the question in their hearts. I can hear the question in their blades.

In truth, we owe them everything. I haven't forgotten where I came from. I haven't forgotten rising up from the slums. I haven't forgotten the kindness of Captain Yamamoto. I haven't forgotten the Academy. I havenÆt forgotten the feeling of a captainÆs coat on my shoulders. Loyalty. Honor. Justice. I haven't forgotten who and what taught me the meaning of those words. I can't blame Soul Society. In truth, I can't even blame Central 46. They were played. I can't forget that. I can't ever forget that. Because I know what that's like.

After all, I was played too, wasn't I? We all were.

I haven't forgotten where I came from. I know what I am, now, after what happened, but I haven't changed what I used to be, either. IÆm both now. Two different things, two totally different things, met head-on and created a middle. A sinewave. An in-between.

I havenÆt forgotten where I came from. And I havenÆt forgotten who did this to us.

So we sat in the darkness of the human world, grinding our blades against our souls, sharper and sharper and sharper. They need to be sharper. Sharp enough to kill an enemy in a single blow. Sharp enough that they die now and realize it later. It's the only way. We have an advantage. Just the one. We've been forgotten. More or less, give or take. Forgotten. That gives us a move, 'a' move, to make. A single pass. You only get the element of surprise once. We intend to make it count.

But sharp blades won't be enough. We need something else.

In ancient human cultures, masks have great importance. They are symbols of power. Shamans, mystics, ancient wisemen. In ceremonies, they would wear the masks of their ancestors, because they believed it let them communicate with the dead. In war, they would wear the masks of animals, to give them the ferocity and strength of great beasts. Many would wear the masks of gods and spirits, to claim their power. It was believed that by wearing a mask, you invoked spirits. You stopped being who and what you were, and became something else. That in some small way, by wearing a mask, you become the mask.

They weren't wrong.

I learned what it was that dwelled in my soul. The rot had no name, but it had a face. All my fears, all my anger, all my sorrow. All my sins. My monster. The monster wearing my face, that lurks in my heart. It wore my face, and ate at my soul. And in wearing my face, it held power over me.

I fought it. We all did. And each of us, in turn, won. Turnabout is fair play, isn't it? We learned to wear the monster's face. We learned to steal it's power. We learned to eat it's soul. Influence is a two-way street, after all. When it grabbed at me, I didnÆt flinch away. I grabbed back. Orobus. That's what we became. The serpent eternally eating its own tail. The monster eats me, and I eat the monster. The monster wears my face, and I wear the monster's. It gains power over me. I gain power over it. What goes around comes around. It all evens out. A ripple in the pond that eventually fades away. A good piece of jazz that ends like how it starts, soft and easy. Return to the middle. The beginning and the end blurred, looped together, no distinction. It's the middle that matters. We had become the median.

In the shadows, I remembered. I remembered justice. I remembered loyalty. I remembered honor. And I adjusted each in turn. Justice was a fickle thing, and was determined, not by the laws of mortals or immortals, but by the rule of the winners. If we wanted justice, we would have to win, plain and simple. Loyalty was an odd thing. It was hard as hell to find for real, but where it existed, it ran true and deep. Loyalty to my friends. My fellow exiles. Loyalty to a boy who rolled the dice against Soul Society itself and won, carrying a monster like ours in his heart. Loyalty to the world that had discarded me as a traitor. And Honor. Honor was high and cold and sharp. Honor demanded things. And if you reneged on it, it left you, went on without you. Honorless. That's probably what they call us now. It would surprise me if they never said it about us. But we aren't honorless, now are we?

I added a new word. Revenge. Revenge is a lot like honor. It's the same thing, in some ways, but completely the opposite in others. Honor is high and cold and sharp. Revenge is sharp too, but it's low. Low and hot. Revenge burns like a coal, sears like a fire. Honor is stark and smooth. Revenge is elaborate and rough. Honor is beautiful and uncaring. Revenge is ugly and cares more than anything in the entire world. Honor is heartless. Revenge is a broken heart. Honor is in the moment. Revenge is in the future. Hot and cold, high and low, featureless and elaborate, smooth and rough, beautiful and ugly, heartless and heartbroken. ThatÆs what IÆve become now. What weÆve all become. All of those things in our hearts, in our very souls. WeÆre contradictory, you see? ThatÆs the entire point. Because in some ways, weÆre in the middle. In others, weÆre both extremes at once. Because we are honorable, and we will have our revenge.

Our darkness, our sins, our inner demons. Our honor, our loyalty, our justice, our revenge. The monster in my heart. They, it, don't have names. But my hatred does. My hate has a name.

Why hello, Aizen. Long time no see. Fancy seeing you here, of all places. WhatÆs that? IÆve never seen your release? Why no, I havenÆt. And you know what? I donÆt think IÆve ever shown you mine, either.

It's time to let go. It's time to get things rolling. It's time to say goodbye. We stand in the middle, indistinct, undefined. Cast out, but not lost. Not anymore. And that's fine. That's exactly how I like it, like a good piece of jazz. Because in the end, it'll all even out. What goes around, comes around. We've got our chance to return the favor. WeÆve sharpened our blades against each other, against our own souls. WeÆve learned how to rip out the fear and the anger, the hatred and the shadow, and smear it across our faces like warpaint. Our souls are in our hands, our hearts are on our faces, and weÆre burning with a cold fire.

Hold on, Ichigo. WeÆre coming. And itÆll be one hell of a thing. Because revenge is never served cold. ItÆs always served red hot. Unless itÆs served with honor. Then itÆs somewhere in the middle. Vengeance will be mine. Justice will be ours.


<a href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jSCOdg8Mrw&feature=watch_response' target='_blank' rel='nofollow'>
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SEG-CISR

Well-Known Member
#2
Pretty badass. Better than "they beat the shit out of their inner demons," they've learned to consume their inner hollows as much as they do them. Learning to coexist with something that is trying to take you over by taking it over in the meantime is the most epic way to do it.
 

Ina_meishou

Well-Known Member
#3
Indeed. I'll second the note that it's rather purple. And the note that the Jazz line repeats, and it catches the eye, blocks the flow a bit.

The prose towards the end, with the talk of honor and contradiction gets a bit overwrought. But it's not otherwise a problem.
 

Coelacanth

Well-Known Member
#5
This might be your best work as of yet. For one, it's complete. But in all seriousness, nicely done.

Your story drew me in and I loved the prose. Keep up the good work.
 

Lord Raine

Well-Known Member
#6
The Vaizard, and Shinji in particular, don't get enough love. People always write Shinji as being flat and two dimensional, and the rest as just faces in the background. But that's not how they are. Turn Back The Pendulum showed us that. They were Captains, Vice-Captains. Loved and respected leaders. They had lives. Lives that Aizen destroyed.

I don't think they would stab Soul Society in the back, or want to overthrow it. They're older, and wiser, than that. They know Soul Society was played, just like they were. Could they really blame Soul Society for falling for a trick that they themselves fell for? No, they couldn't. What they would want, what I know they want, is vengeance. Vengeance, and justice. So they sit quietly in the shadows, forgotten, honing their skills. Waiting for Aizen to make the move they know he's going to eventually make. Waiting for exactly the right moment to tip the scales. Waiting for the catalyst.

And wouldn't you know it, their patience was rewarded. The catalyst walked right into them.

 

nintendokid

Well-Known Member
#7
Not bad.

And guys, Prose doesn't mean what you think it does. The word you're looking for is Diction. Prose is a form of writing, not a style.
 

Ina_meishou

Well-Known Member
#8
nintendokid said:
Not bad.

And guys, Prose doesn't mean what you think it does. The word you're looking for is Diction. Prose is a form of writing, not a style.
Technically yes, Prose just means "normal language" rather than verse.

It's also commonly used as I use it here. "Your prose" referring to "the words you put down on the page". It's not attaching a 'style' to it, or referencing his diction specifically. I'm saying "your text in the structure of prose is overwrought here."

Whether this is the "right" use for it in some ivory tower I could care less about. I speak vernacular, which follows the law of common use. :p
 

Lord Raine

Well-Known Member
#9
Ina_meishou said:
nintendokid said:
Not bad.

And guys, Prose doesn't mean what you think it does. The word you're looking for is Diction. Prose is a form of writing, not a style.
Technically yes, Prose just means "normal language" rather than verse.

It's also commonly used as I use it here. "Your prose" referring to "the words you put down on the page". It's not attaching a 'style' to it, or referencing his diction specifically. I'm saying "your text in the structure of prose is overwrought here."

Whether this is the "right" use for it in some ivory tower I could care less about. I speak vernacular, which follows the law of common use. :p
Which is why I despise you, because you insist that a bunch of nerds getting Latin wrong for thirty years somehow changes what the Latin means, when in actuality it just means that a bunch of nerds are very, very wrong.

Fucking Necromancers.
 

Ina_meishou

Well-Known Member
#10
Lord Raine said:
Ina_meishou said:
nintendokid said:
Not bad.

And guys, Prose doesn't mean what you think it does. The word you're looking for is Diction. Prose is a form of writing, not a style.
Technically yes, Prose just means "normal language" rather than verse.

It's also commonly used as I use it here. "Your prose" referring to "the words you put down on the page". It's not attaching a 'style' to it, or referencing his diction specifically. I'm saying "your text in the structure of prose is overwrought here."

Whether this is the "right" use for it in some ivory tower I could care less about. I speak vernacular, which follows the law of common use. :p
Which is why I despise you, because you insist that a bunch of nerds getting Latin wrong for thirty years somehow changes what the Latin means, when in actuality it just means that a bunch of nerds are very, very wrong.

Fucking Necromancers.
Hardly. Latin is latin is latin, it's a dead language, it Has no "common use".

Necromancer in latin is obviously something different than 'necromancer' in fantasy, specifically tabletop games. and the latter is not the 'correct' latin definition.

It's living languages that change, dead languages are static, they retain the meanings used when they were 'alive'. Because those meanings are tied to the people and societies who did the writing we have from that time.
 

Lord Raine

Well-Known Member
#11
Ina_meishou said:
Lord Raine said:
Ina_meishou said:
nintendokid said:
Not bad.

And guys, Prose doesn't mean what you think it does. The word you're looking for is Diction. Prose is a form of writing, not a style.
Technically yes, Prose just means "normal language" rather than verse.

It's also commonly used as I use it here. "Your prose" referring to "the words you put down on the page". It's not attaching a 'style' to it, or referencing his diction specifically. I'm saying "your text in the structure of prose is overwrought here."

Whether this is the "right" use for it in some ivory tower I could care less about. I speak vernacular, which follows the law of common use. :p
Which is why I despise you, because you insist that a bunch of nerds getting Latin wrong for thirty years somehow changes what the Latin means, when in actuality it just means that a bunch of nerds are very, very wrong.

Fucking Necromancers.
Hardly. Latin is latin is latin, it's a dead language, it Has no "common use".

Necromancer in latin is obviously something different than 'necromancer' in fantasy, specifically tabletop games. and the latter is not the 'correct' latin definition.
Except they aren't different. Necromancer is necromancer is necromancer. A bunch of nerds using a dead language word wrong doesn't change the meaning of the word, or somehow magically create a new usage of the exact same word. It just makes a bunch of nerds wrong.
 

nintendokid

Well-Known Member
#12
Ina_meishou said:
nintendokid said:
Not bad.

And guys, Prose doesn't mean what you think it does. The word you're looking for is Diction. Prose is a form of writing, not a style.
Technically yes, Prose just means "normal language" rather than verse.

It's also commonly used as I use it here. "Your prose" referring to "the words you put down on the page". It's not attaching a 'style' to it, or referencing his diction specifically. I'm saying "your text in the structure of prose is overwrought here."

Whether this is the "right" use for it in some ivory tower I could care less about. I speak vernacular, which follows the law of common use. :p
Nope, prose is just misused. It has nothing to do with sitting in an Ivory Tower. This is no different than people (and yourself) misusing the phrase "I could care less" when what you're trying to say is that you couldn't care less.

Using prose the way you did is totally redundant. It makes no sense when what you're trying to tell him is that his word choice or style of speech doesn't work as well as it could have. That is diction.

If I was really trying to be an elitist I would mention your incorrect usage of vernacular as well.
 

Ina_meishou

Well-Known Member
#13
Lord Raine said:
Ina_meishou said:
Lord Raine said:
Ina_meishou said:
nintendokid said:
Not bad.

And guys, Prose doesn't mean what you think it does. The word you're looking for is Diction. Prose is a form of writing, not a style.
Technically yes, Prose just means "normal language" rather than verse.

It's also commonly used as I use it here. "Your prose" referring to "the words you put down on the page". It's not attaching a 'style' to it, or referencing his diction specifically. I'm saying "your text in the structure of prose is overwrought here."

Whether this is the "right" use for it in some ivory tower I could care less about. I speak vernacular, which follows the law of common use. :p
Which is why I despise you, because you insist that a bunch of nerds getting Latin wrong for thirty years somehow changes what the Latin means, when in actuality it just means that a bunch of nerds are very, very wrong.

Fucking Necromancers.
Hardly. Latin is latin is latin, it's a dead language, it Has no "common use".

Necromancer in latin is obviously something different than 'necromancer' in fantasy, specifically tabletop games. and the latter is not the 'correct' latin definition.
Except they aren't different. Necromancer is necromancer is necromancer. A bunch of nerds using a dead language word wrong doesn't change the meaning of the word, or somehow magically create a new usage of the exact same word. It just makes a bunch of nerds wrong.
Loan Words, you are familiar with the term yes?

This is similar to how "shit" in english has a vastly different use than it did in the Anglo-Saxon tongues. Or how any other word english ripped form another language might mean something entirely different in english. It happens all the time, a large portion of the enlgish language is "wrong" by your definition.

:sweat2:

Or did you miss that I agree with you, Necromancer is a latin word meaning one thing.

It's just also an english word, distinct from the latin. Languages are annoying like that.
 

trevelyan1983

Well-Known Member
#14
Nice work, Raine. The Shinji we see in canon doesn't really show he has depths like this, but the guy in Turn Back the Pendulum seemed to have it.

That's cool.
 

Sunhawk

Well-Known Member
#15
Slight typo-type nitpick on the oneshot; it's Ouroboros, not Orobus.
 
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