|Birthday||January 1st (Spirit Age of 1820)|
|Height||186 cm (6'1")|
|Weight||74 kg (163 lbs)|
|Affiliation||Gotei 13, Soul Society, Kido Corps|
|Occupation||Captain of the 5th Division|
|Base of Operations||5th Division HQ, Seireitei, Soul Society|
|Bankai||Doku akuma o yobidasu, Murasakiiro (Unknown)|
Kisuri Nagare (木スリ流れ, Nagare Kisuri) is the captain of the Fifth Division in the Gotei 13. He is also the Grand Chief of the Kido Corps. He has never revealed his Zanpakuto abilities, nor his Kido ability, and acts senile, yet peaceful. He is blind, and very old, but looks as if he is in his 30's.
Kisuri, standing around six feet tall, has a mop of white hair that sweeps below his neck and around his shoulders. It is wavy, and cascades around his scapulas, a rich, creamy veil. His ears are covered by his hair, but if they peeped out, they would appear normal sized, more towards the small side. His eyes are a bleached olive color, with a notable pristine veil of white murk covering his pupils. They look as if they are staring off into space at all times, unable to focus. Starting at the center, they "explode" outwards, serrated from him having an irrational habit of scratching his eyes. His nose points out, entitled to the phrase "button nose", and is medium sized. His cheeks have a tendency to become pink, but most of the time his complexion is a pasty color. His eyebrows are lines juxtaposed to his nose and eyes, framing his face with a narrow trim. Below his nose, his lips are thin and red, and when he smiles snow white teeth appear.
That said, however, he does not have a perfect face.
In part of his obsessive behavior, he is triggered to scratch on and around his eyes habitually. Raw, pink tear marks can be seen all around his face, especially on the left and right sides of his eyes, as well as above and below them. It is not uncommon that there will be traces of blood on his hands from this, as his skin has grown frail due to his habit.
In fact, when he was a toddler, he became blind.
When he was a child, he wore simple tunics and shorts that would allow him to be nimble; he had to be, as he was constantly stealing from merchants and bandits. He gained a considerable amount of lean muscle as a youth, and was always out in the sun, but his skin tended to remain pasty, a fair color similar to that of the snow. If he would get burnt, he would sit in a pitch black environment such as a shrine or a cave for days at a time and stare at the floor, consumed in his thoughts as to how his soul was being lit on fire, in a sense. He would sometimes sit there for more than a few days, as he could never tell when he was fully healed due to his impaired vision.
As he grew older, into his preteen years, his upper body frame became more defined, and his shoulders became broad. He seldom cut his hair, allowing it to fall behind him, and straighten messily in the front. He would salvage new clothes that looked the exact same as his last outfit, thinking that if he donned something fashionable, he would become addicted to the decadence of vanity. He would often feel the texture of clothes, and decided to wear only lightweight, somewhat baggy outfits, as they wouldn't brush up against him too often.
When he became a teenager, Kisuri began to get stubble, but would shave it clean whenever a new layer of hair would form. More often than not, he would spend tens of minutes repeatedly scouring his face for more hair, shredding his cheeks with nicks in the process. He didn't care; he just wanted to be able to feel his skin and know it wasn't furry. In regards to his outfit as a teenager, Kisuri was forced by his classmates to wear proper clothes, so he chose to fit himself with a kimono. Not familiar with color, he unknowingly put on a bright pink one, tricked by his peers who would harass Kisuri when they got the opportunity. Kisuri would become even more detached from this harassment, his eyes now looking blank and distant at all times.
As Kisuri's confidence in his image diminished, in contrast, his strength and build got stronger. He now has broad shoulders, toned, lean leg and chest muscles, and walks with a deft stride. As for his casual outfit, he still wears the same pink kimono he first received, tailored a few times over to match his compulsive needs. A distant phantom, Kisuri looks as if he is in his own world, oblivious to the social and political troubles of the world.
As Kisuri's soul faded into the afterlife, the torn complexion he had as a human dissolved, leaving only the most deep rooted scars he had attained as a child. Looking as if a grenade had exploded some feet away, his face has a scar expanding from the middle of his face to about 1-2 inches from the sides of it. It looks like a star with 5 prongs, and is tinged with a dark pink color.
As for his build, he is equipped with lean muscle attached to his prominent framework. Wearing his Captain robes on a daily basis, he has a respectable aura about him, almost gentle in a way. He keeps his Zanpakuto sheathed to his side, as he did with his katana when he was a human. His blindness carried over into him becoming a Soul, but he doesn't try to hide it--he opens his eyes, eyes that still look like the supernova of a star.
Keeping it at waist length, his white hair is straight in the front, yet still wavy in the back, as it looked when he was a human. His face, in normal event, possesses an aura of wisdom derived from nearly 2,000 years of experience, one of which is calm and level-headed.
Due to many factors including Kisuri's turbulent upbringing, Kisuri is considered to be mentally unstable, having habits that turn people away from him immediately. When people try to approach him with casual conversation, he naturally resorts to profanity, a defense mechanism he used to get people to run away from him as fast as possible. Kisuri avoids social interaction, and likes to fantasize about leaving his body, relishing in the fact that he can find some comfort in his own mind. If someone were to approach him with an aggressive attitude, but they were not threatening Kisuri's life directly, Kisuri would leave his mind, allowing the attacker or person who is harassing him to do what they will. When he comes back to himself, Kisuri finds a quiet place and stands there, staring at the floor, never at the sky, as there are too many risks involved with an open space.
With no interest in war, humanity, or even his "friends", Kisuri does his duty to ensure that there won't be unnecessary problems for people in his town. He would break down if he slipped and many people were in pain because of him; the anxiety of being the one who messed up would tear him apart on the inside. Building off of this, Kisuri is only somewhat content with himself when he can wander into the streets at night or lay on the corroded floor of his apartment in Karakura. When his compulsions get the best of him, however, Kisuri will exhibit eccentric behavior, such as eating dirt, trying to find a balance within his chaotic self.
Aside from being detached, devoid of expressive emotion, and quirky, Kisuri can adopt a more stable demeanor.
Sometimes, if his friends are lucky enough, they may hear Kisuri say something relevant to what is actually happening in reality, as opposed to Kisuri muttering to himself or not speaking at all. Kisuri's view on himself, the world, and imagination is not cynical, rather, it is in the moment, and neutral.
Although centuries have passed since Kisuri has died, he retains his persona in most regards. Still detached from people his age, he has a tendency to socialize only with the most high ranking officers of his squad, as well as a select few Captains. Much wiser, he now chooses to defend himself, for the sake of the Soul Society. He feels as if his well-being now must be valued to a larger extent, as he is one of the most prominent members in the Gotei 13. Social matters within Seireitei fall deaf on his ears, as he has no care for the doings of those who are dramatic. Furthermore, his capability in strategics and logistics has grown to a level of relative genius.
To note, Kisuri is pretty lazy and loopy, and will do things on his own accord. He cares very much for his division. He appears to be somewhat of a rookie himself.
As the founder of the Kido Corps. and Science Division, his dedication to the mysterious and unexplained is a big part of his life. He insists on finding new methods to protect humanity, and dabbles into arts of which no other has succeeded.
Travels to the Samurai
In the frigid wastelands of the tundras besides Mount Fuji, a deranged man and his three namesake had brought two loafs of bread, a bag of rice, and a single tinderbox. As the month was June, the party was expecting it to be a viable journey, but that sentiment broke apart when they had found no animals to hunt; not a single hare remained on the tundra, as they were all dormant for the season. The man would feed his kids pieces of the last loaf of stale bread, the only glint of hope in his eye sparked by the thought of being safe, in the clutches of the Samurai, sanctioned away from the warring factions in distant, godforsaken countries.
As hordes of men had once dared, this foursome paid tribute. Not only to the feat of travelling this barren stretch, but to strength. The Samurai were a burly group of marauders, and to the smallest boy with the white, velvet hair, it felt as if he had already began on the adventure to follow in their footsteps. His two brothers, Jasan and Tsyoia, were his wardens, his father, his beacon. Even in the damnation of this winter, there was hope in the future. There was the simple happiness of company. Of love.
Kisuri let the reverberations of the tune his father had used to lull him to sleep hum inside of his chest, giving room for warmth. Giving room for the distance, both ahead and leagues behind. Giving room for his dreams, his aspirations.
. . .
Kisuri looked at his brothers, to his father, and ultimately ahead towards the frigid onslaught awaiting them. The cold wouldn't be a deterrent, for they had each other. Even though they were nearly 30 miles away, and their food had all been lost to the wild, they would not fall prey to the clutches of nature. No, they were strong. Men. Men from the stories their father had told them, and his father had told him. They were strong. How couldn't they be?
. . .
Kisuri gazed behind, at his dad crouching in the snow; at his younger brother, cold, still, beside him. The look in his dads eyes, that was what got him--never had Kisuri seen this sadness etched upon fathers face...the look of a man who had lost everything. Jasan, his older brother, stood ahead of Kisuri, his fists raised to the forbearing yield. As Kisuri rubbed his right cheek, expecting the warm flood of tears, he felt his taut, purple skin instead. The tears wouldn't come.
A week had passed, and there was still no signs of the Samurai. The footprints were gone. Had they gone the wrong way, or...were they even alive? Kisuri looked down as his feet which were exposed to the elements, and wondered why feet turned purple. Why his arms were beginning to turn purple...why his fathers arms were now blue, and his brothers throat, black.
. . .
Incoming from the limits of the horizon to the right of the direction they had been heading, a group of figures approached, a herd of silent apparitions. The three members of the starving party loomed over, trying to get a better look. To no avail, however, because they were already ten feet away. They were the Samurai.
The man in the front, decked with armor and a massive bludgeon strapped to his side, acknowledged the three in a quiet manner. For what may have seemed like hours in the wicked atmosphere, the lead Samurai analyzed them with a grim motion of his head. Without a word, he approached Kisuri's father, and brought his hammer down upon his head. The man fell limp, a sack of frostbitten organs. Tsyoia, his other brother, attempted to turn back, but there was no chance; the Samurai had already inserted a 3 foot long blade into the young boy's back. With a swishing sound of charred flesh sliding against steel, Tsyoia fell onto the floor. Kisuri closed his eyes, waiting for what was to come, and as expected, felt a tingling sensation trickle through his skull, flooding his body with long awaited warmth.
For 7 years, Kisuri was held as a prisoner within the fortress of a renegade Samurai group. He was beaten and scarred on a regular basis, used as a training dummy. He was only let out when he was to accompany the Samurai on their treks across the country, and was given very few liberties. At the beginning of his enslavement, Kisuri had a bucket of hot tea infused with wild herbs thrown into his eyes for no reason at all, causing him to go blind. To the ignorance of the Samurai, Kisuri had began to steal their literature, training himself to read whenever he got the opportunity. He had a strong desire to learn more, and was a natural in mathematics, but loved novels pertinent to comedy and adventure.
On the eve of the New Year, Kisuri was alone in his corridors. Given only a bucket of rice and a handful of wild herbs and nuts to eat, Kisuri had been starving. Normally, he would steal extra helpings of food, but this had not been the case for quiet some time, as the harvest yielded much less than had in the past. On this particular night, the Samurai were having a drunken festival, and Kisuri hatched a plan.
As a guard came in to collect his tray of food, Kisuri slipped out of the shadows from under his bed with a broken, jagged eating utensil wielded in his right hand. Surprising the wily guard, Kisuri slit his throat in one fell swoop. Proceeding to take the guards keys, Kisuri darted out of his room and into the courtyard, only 10 feet wide and 10 feet long. Picking up a smooth rock just to be safe, Kisuri scanned the pavilion with utmost intensity, making sure there were no more Samurai to be wary of.
A piece of dirt fell from the roof, and Kisuri looked up with instinct. He could sense the presence of an entity, and chucked the stone he had picked up into the air. With a faint *thud*, a body limp body fell in front of Kisuri. Frightened to the bone, Kisuri ran ahead, realizing that he had just knocked out an archer the Samurai kept on guard. Moving with all possible haste, Kisuri made it to a door at the end of an arched hallway, and felt to the knob. He swung it open, and immediately brushed up against the back of someone who smelt of booze and week old cow shit.
Not leaving it up to chance, Kisuri knocked his fist forward, and met the hilt of a katana, cutting his knuckles. With no hesitation, Kisuri grabbed onto the blade and pulled it into his grip. The samurai swooped towards Kisuri, but too late! Kisuri slashed the Katana upwards, tearing a gouge in the chest of the man. Kisuri grabbed onto the falling Samurai's throat, and used it as a handle to smash the skull of the man into the cobbled floor, killing him instantly. Not sensing any more humans nearby, Kisuri realized the man he had killed was alone.
With the steel katana in his right hand, Kisuri rushed forward, his bare feet slipping against a bloody pavement. His heart thumping, he felt forward with his left hand onto another wooden door in front of him. Locked, Kisuri instantly decided to kick it down, ignoring the splinters of would that would stab into his calves. As the door hit the stone ground, on queue, Kisuri could feel the cold, metallic thrust of a blade into his stomach.
Looking up, Kisuri could sense a fist headed straight towards his face, but in the nick of time, Kisuri weaved his Katana in an arc, and heard a *Snap!* as a head rolled onto the floor. Realizing he had entered the armory of the fortress, Kisuri had the thought that he had decapitated its one and only guard working the night shift. Content, Kisuri stepped forward, pulling the sword out of his chest, wincing in pain. He dropped it to the floor with a clash of iron, and felt around the walls for a torch.
Using his sense of touch to locate the flickering embers which lit up the room, Kisuri detached the torch from the wall and motioned it towards his stomach. Hoping to cauterize his the gashing blood, Kisuri held it up to the wound, ignoring the sweeping pain which was digging into his sanity. Satisfied with the results, Kisuri limped forward, cold sweat dripping down his face. The spacious room decked with all sorts of equipment was irrelevant to Kisuri, as he was simply too small for the battle gear. Using the torch as a means to guide him forward, Kisuri eventually came into contact with a massive, barred gate.
Using the ring of keys the guard had given him, Kisuri fumbled to find the fitting match. Behind him, reverberating from the arched hallway behind him, Kisuri could hear the angry Samurai who had found his old corridors empty. Pressed for time, Kisuri had a few more keys to try, each failed attempt shooting his heart rate higher and higher.
The oncoming opponent armed with a longbow sent an arrow flying towards Kisuri, and it made contact with his pasty flesh, lodging an arrow into his back and out through the front of his chest. With a small *Click!*, the gate opened, and Kisuri pushed it forward, relieved by the whining of the metal hinges. Bleeding profusely, Kisuri sprinted forward, down a steep slope of ice and muddy grass. He could feel the biting cold nipping at his wounds, and could hear the group tailing him.
To his benefit, there was a river around ten feet to the right, beginning to melt with the season of Spring. It was roaring as the water from the mountains flowed into it, making it deadly to those who dared to swim in it. With no hesitation, Kisuri lunged into the rapid waters headfirst, and went numb. His head made contact with the edge of a protruding rock, and he was out, surrendered to the fate of the rapids.
Arrival and Outcast
Eight seasons had passed since Kisuri had woken up on the riverbanks on the outskirts of Karakura, his severe wounds frozen over by the cold waters waters of the river. Two entire years since he had been found by a peasant and tended to, on the brink of death from his week long voyage spent in the rushing water.
The name of his caretaker with Lilia, and she was a herbalist who assisted those who needed her services. She enrolled him in school, and kept a bed available at night, when she was not working, for Kisuri to sleep in. Other than that, Kisuri spent his days attending school for a few hours, and then wandering with no purpose for the rest of the duration. He seldom developed any relations with humans, and even if he did, they were vague and purposeless. The only human he ever cared for was Lilia, the one who gave him two meals and a bed.
Jumped by the local thugs and dropouts, Kisuri would be beaten and robbed on a weekly basis, and was known as the "scum" of his town. He would steal food from merchants just to support his health, and was soon labelled as a "heathen" and "inbred". At school, he wouldn't pay mind as to what his peers thought of him, and slowly became detached. His grades were strong in some points, but failed in others.
Albeit, he could see wandering souls, and when he told Lilia of this ability, she cast him from her home, forcing him to live in a makeshift encampment by the river. He was alone, but in a way it suited him, as he could gaze up at the stars and ponder the meaning of what his life had come to. He wanted to join in on society in a positive way, but felt more suited to the life as a hermit.
From time to time, Kisuri would remember his brothers, and how he lived before they made their journey to the Samurai. He recalled the reason they went on the voyage in the first place was for his father to enlist as a samurai for the government. Unfortunately, they had encountered a rogue group, one of which was heavily involved in criminal activity. Kisuri remembered his mother, and his house on the island off the south of Japan, and the warmth and happiness he had shared there.
By the time Kisuri had reached the age of seventeen, he had finished school, but had grown accustomed to a series peculiar habits such as self mutilation and the inability to render social situations with a realistic outlook. As such, he was regarded as a living problem for the world, one of which should never be associated with. Those who dared approach Kisuri with empathy were harassed by the community, so people eventually ceased communicated with Kisuri altogether.
On a trip to town one day to try and barter fur he had hunted for groceries, Kisuri was approached by an official looking group of men, each equipped with fancy headdresses and a book containing doctrine of law at their side. They questioned why Kisuri was there to the locals, and soon after proclaimed, "This animal is a despicable element of the human condition! His...existence degrades our welfare!". Rallied by the calls of the men, the onlookers in the crows joined in, jeering at Kisuri with demeaning slurs and insulting gestures. As the situation escalated, they began to get physical, knocking Kisuri down into the filthy street. They began to spit on him, and a few of the kids in their older teens picked up planks and rocks, and began to smash Kisuri's chest and back, on top of kicking him in the gut with no relent. The adults stood their with disgusted expressions on their faces, looking down upon Kisuri as a wretch.
As Kisuri tried to escape, two older men grabbed Kisuri by the crooks in his arms, and carried him with no mercy to a wall. The crowd gathered around him, and watched as the excited citizens poured buckets of steaming cooking oil of Kisuri, beating him in the process.
Despite Kisuri's situation, he remained silent, absorbed in his own mind. In a bout of realization, he looked to his left, and saw Lilia there, crying tears of remorse. Never had Kisuri seen someone so sad, and in turn, it made Kisuri want to live. He turned around to reason with the crowd, and someone stuck a spear into his chest, pinning him up against the wall. He looked to Lilia, as the haze of exhaustion dragged him into unconsciousness, only to find that she had turned her back on him.
Kisuri looked up at the sky, and saw the stars panning out over the evergreen trees. He felt his wet, warm chest, as his eyes closed on his past....
Kisuri died at peace with himself, despite his circumstances, and when he drifted into the Soul Society with an unbound heart, he was attracted to the Seireitei. He lived in the Rukongai for only a few years, keeping to himself, until he was encountered by a group of Shinigami who would notice his impressive reiatsu and would invite him to become one of them. A natural, he excelled through the Academy in a couple years, and studied independently, slaying hollows while increasing his knowledge in the field of Kido with incredible paces. Noticed by the higher ups of the Gotei 13, he was put on the potential list of people to be the first official Captains, and was given a trial which he never even knew about for the next few years.
In secret, Kisuri had already won over his Zanpakuto, and had mastered his Shikai. As for his Bankai, little is known as to how he has progressed, as he never announced or showed evidence of him attaining it. His loyalty to the human nature improved, in time, as society on the real world grew more civilized, and he eventually began to think that humans were progressing in a positive direction.
As time passed, he was named the Captain of the 5th Division, and labelled it the "Kido Corps" off of the branch he had established separate from the Gotei 13. Within his division, he did extensive research into the arts of Kido, and managed to incorporate it to be easier to learn, and more viable to teach.
Powers and Abilities
- Kido Master: Known as the "first" Kido user, Kisuri developed most of the Kido we see today and has a proficiency unparalleled in this regard. Although you will NEVER see him using it, his hidden power is capable of using 99 Kido without an incantation, as if he is using no effort at all. Out of all the Captains, and even the Royal Guard and Head Captain, Kisuri is the most adept user. He continues to create new Kido on the daily.
Murasakiiro (紫色のドラゴン): In its sealed form, it resembles a normal katana. The hilt and sheath are purple and its guard is shaped like an hour-glass.
- Shikai -Not Yet Revealed-: The release command is "Decompose". Kisuri uses the command to create any amount of poison at will, this poison being purple. He can create hydra dragons with it, as well as pathways, walls, "tear gas" bombs, physical hardened armor, and poison clouds. The poison looks like purple sludge in its natural form, and is extremely deadly if touched. Kisuri is immune to poison, as he embodies it, but if overused, it can destroy his skin.
- Bankai -Not Yet Revealed-: The release command is "The World is Venom". The materialization of his sword occurs, and looks like a massive crimson monster, surrounding Kisuri. This monster emits noxious, crimson poison, and can stretch its limbs to go after his opponents. It retains all of the properties as his Shikai, BUT this crimson poison can spread diseases/control disease at any level and can destroy non-organic substances, such as walls, or iron if it gets into contact with the enemy, disintegrating them. If the gas comes into contact with the victim, they hallucinate, as their brain physically destroys itself.