A Window Into The Past - Omake (Bleach)
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
A Window Into The Past - Omake (Bleach)
Yamamoto had died.
He was sure of it.
In his old age, facing his final foe, he was sure of the blow that had taken his life away. So why then, did he find himself upon the edge of a volcano witnessing the slumbering of a humongous demon?
Unknown symbols met his eyes and a foreign tongue reached his ears as he was attacked without a chance to explain himself, and so he swiftly fought back. He made his way out of the vast maze of underground passages heated by lava with swift footwork, not bothering to kill anyone he could avoid, and reaching for his freedom beneath a blue sky, in a giant sprawling city that was anything but human-like in its appearance.
Though he left behind the heat of the forges and the screams of pain of the suffering slaves, it was only after a few tense minutes that he accepted the fact he was no longer in Soul Society, and that he hadn't fallen to Earth, or was in Hell, either. This place was...different. He could feel it, and he could feel something else deep within him. It was different from his Reiryoku, and his body made of Reishi seemed to have solidified somewhat. He would need to familiarize himself with the current world, but in order to do so, he would need to understand the language first.
He began to observe the people around him, picking out the way they pointed at things near the market stalls, or how they complained loudly about the quality of food. At first, he believed such a method crude and unrewarding, but after just a few minutes he had already mastered the words, and could easily speak with the accent of those who had been born into this world flawlessly.
After two short days, he completed his rudimentary vocabulary, and understood that his best chances at finding an answer to the mystery of his arrival in Ravnica would pass through the Izzet, but if he wanted to find purpose in this new life, the Boros would be his next step. He had been the leader of the Shinigami for countless thousands of years, so he presented himself, and he was swiftly enlisted.
It was the angel Razia who personally told him what he was, and what he could do.
He was a Planeswalker. He could travel though worlds. He had Sparked and had become something greater than the human he had been, and it appeared that they did not know of the Shinigami in this world, but they did know what happened to the souls of the dead, especially if they had signed a pact with the Orzhov. It was no different from the world of the Shinigami, and yet it annoyed him greatly.
Then one day, the skies of Ravnica darkened. Countless tendrils and mouths spread through the skies and blotted out the sun, powerful magic ripped through the air as tendrils of flesh descended down slamming into buildings, breaking floors and reaching for the very core of the world. It was in that occasion that Yamamoto's abilities came to the front. It had been the first time in years since his arrival that he used his Bankai, and as the world withstood his flames, so too did the creatures.
At first, they died in droves, but then they began to die only by the score, then in small numbers, and finally they stopped dying, growing instead stronger with each swing he threw at them. The powerful Bankai of his, the one that no other Shinigami yet living had ever managed to beat, there it was, utterly useless.
The creatures that continuously emerged from the tendrils had been at first mere beasts, with sharp talons and triangular head crests. Yet suddenly they grew humanoid in shape, and their fighting became even fiercer than before. Ripples seemed to pass across the tendrils, as the mutations that transformed one of his foes into a humanoid shaped creature soon did the same to every other of said monsters.
It was then that he met it, a monster the likes of which he had never seen. It was no Arrancar, or monstrosity of Quincy make. It was a creature similar, and yet different from the rest of the horde that seemed to be following its unspoken commands. Below Yamamoto, the city of Ravnica laid in ruins.
The skies had lost their last valiant defenders, the few remaining angels that had accompanied his fight in the sky dead and devoured.
All around him stood but the swarm, the countless talons, the endless teeth, the never-ceasing skittering noise of countless mouths shrieking out a cacophony that Yamamoto could hardly understand, and yet seemed to be screaming the same thing.
The monster that had easily been ten times his size slowly began to shrink until a man stood in front of him, his equal in size and shape. His face remained neutral, unfazed by the carnage and the death that seemed to happen all around him.
"I am the Tyrant," he spoke crisply, lifting his right hand up, and as one the monsters, the creatures that had been scouring the land down to its base, they all began to stare at him. "And mine are the laws that all Planeswalkers must obey. Thee shall not kill another Planeswalker. Thee shall not aid the Eldrazi. Thee shall not aid the Phyrexian. Do you comply, Planeswalker?" he asked, and his eyes narrowed.
Yamamoto would have wanted answers to the questions that rose in his mind, but as he realized that he was the only living being left in the entire plane, whereas even the ghosts had disappeared, he wondered if the answer he gave would affect the outcome.
"Youngster," Yamamoto said flatly, "You are in need of an etiquette lesson."
"My word has been given," the man spoke as the tendrils left the ground, carrying with them the creatures that had until then assaulted the world. Magic poured out as the crumbled buildings grew back, as if they had never been touched, the dead slowly waking up and dallying around their daily lives as if nothing had happened. The ghosts themselves seemed to reappear from thin nothingness, and as Yamamoto stared at an act that could easily be considered godly, the man spoke once more. "I am the Tyrant, and my brethren are the Slivers. You are a Planeswalker, Genryusai, so congratulations are in order."
He then raised an eyebrow. "You should deactivate your Bankai now, lest you destroy this world."
The first meeting with the Tyrant was thus, for the leader of the Gotei Thirteen, an out-of-the-world experience.
Needless to say, he was glad when he was shown how to travel back to his Plane.
He missed his Green Tea after all.
Yamamoto had died.
He was sure of it.
In his old age, facing his final foe, he was sure of the blow that had taken his life away. So why then, did he find himself upon the edge of a volcano witnessing the slumbering of a humongous demon?
Unknown symbols met his eyes and a foreign tongue reached his ears as he was attacked without a chance to explain himself, and so he swiftly fought back. He made his way out of the vast maze of underground passages heated by lava with swift footwork, not bothering to kill anyone he could avoid, and reaching for his freedom beneath a blue sky, in a giant sprawling city that was anything but human-like in its appearance.
Though he left behind the heat of the forges and the screams of pain of the suffering slaves, it was only after a few tense minutes that he accepted the fact he was no longer in Soul Society, and that he hadn't fallen to Earth, or was in Hell, either. This place was...different. He could feel it, and he could feel something else deep within him. It was different from his Reiryoku, and his body made of Reishi seemed to have solidified somewhat. He would need to familiarize himself with the current world, but in order to do so, he would need to understand the language first.
He began to observe the people around him, picking out the way they pointed at things near the market stalls, or how they complained loudly about the quality of food. At first, he believed such a method crude and unrewarding, but after just a few minutes he had already mastered the words, and could easily speak with the accent of those who had been born into this world flawlessly.
After two short days, he completed his rudimentary vocabulary, and understood that his best chances at finding an answer to the mystery of his arrival in Ravnica would pass through the Izzet, but if he wanted to find purpose in this new life, the Boros would be his next step. He had been the leader of the Shinigami for countless thousands of years, so he presented himself, and he was swiftly enlisted.
It was the angel Razia who personally told him what he was, and what he could do.
He was a Planeswalker. He could travel though worlds. He had Sparked and had become something greater than the human he had been, and it appeared that they did not know of the Shinigami in this world, but they did know what happened to the souls of the dead, especially if they had signed a pact with the Orzhov. It was no different from the world of the Shinigami, and yet it annoyed him greatly.
Then one day, the skies of Ravnica darkened. Countless tendrils and mouths spread through the skies and blotted out the sun, powerful magic ripped through the air as tendrils of flesh descended down slamming into buildings, breaking floors and reaching for the very core of the world. It was in that occasion that Yamamoto's abilities came to the front. It had been the first time in years since his arrival that he used his Bankai, and as the world withstood his flames, so too did the creatures.
At first, they died in droves, but then they began to die only by the score, then in small numbers, and finally they stopped dying, growing instead stronger with each swing he threw at them. The powerful Bankai of his, the one that no other Shinigami yet living had ever managed to beat, there it was, utterly useless.
The creatures that continuously emerged from the tendrils had been at first mere beasts, with sharp talons and triangular head crests. Yet suddenly they grew humanoid in shape, and their fighting became even fiercer than before. Ripples seemed to pass across the tendrils, as the mutations that transformed one of his foes into a humanoid shaped creature soon did the same to every other of said monsters.
It was then that he met it, a monster the likes of which he had never seen. It was no Arrancar, or monstrosity of Quincy make. It was a creature similar, and yet different from the rest of the horde that seemed to be following its unspoken commands. Below Yamamoto, the city of Ravnica laid in ruins.
The skies had lost their last valiant defenders, the few remaining angels that had accompanied his fight in the sky dead and devoured.
All around him stood but the swarm, the countless talons, the endless teeth, the never-ceasing skittering noise of countless mouths shrieking out a cacophony that Yamamoto could hardly understand, and yet seemed to be screaming the same thing.
The monster that had easily been ten times his size slowly began to shrink until a man stood in front of him, his equal in size and shape. His face remained neutral, unfazed by the carnage and the death that seemed to happen all around him.
"I am the Tyrant," he spoke crisply, lifting his right hand up, and as one the monsters, the creatures that had been scouring the land down to its base, they all began to stare at him. "And mine are the laws that all Planeswalkers must obey. Thee shall not kill another Planeswalker. Thee shall not aid the Eldrazi. Thee shall not aid the Phyrexian. Do you comply, Planeswalker?" he asked, and his eyes narrowed.
Yamamoto would have wanted answers to the questions that rose in his mind, but as he realized that he was the only living being left in the entire plane, whereas even the ghosts had disappeared, he wondered if the answer he gave would affect the outcome.
"Youngster," Yamamoto said flatly, "You are in need of an etiquette lesson."
"My word has been given," the man spoke as the tendrils left the ground, carrying with them the creatures that had until then assaulted the world. Magic poured out as the crumbled buildings grew back, as if they had never been touched, the dead slowly waking up and dallying around their daily lives as if nothing had happened. The ghosts themselves seemed to reappear from thin nothingness, and as Yamamoto stared at an act that could easily be considered godly, the man spoke once more. "I am the Tyrant, and my brethren are the Slivers. You are a Planeswalker, Genryusai, so congratulations are in order."
He then raised an eyebrow. "You should deactivate your Bankai now, lest you destroy this world."
The first meeting with the Tyrant was thus, for the leader of the Gotei Thirteen, an out-of-the-world experience.
Needless to say, he was glad when he was shown how to travel back to his Plane.
He missed his Green Tea after all.
