r e s o l ve

          “Wh—”

                I can give you your mother b a c k.

                                         “What the hell do you think you’re playing at!?”

               And oh, does it rip at him. Tearing at the strings           of his heart that do so yearn for a mother lost from          days long since passed. A sacrifice that was made          and, at the time, deprived of understanding and           reasoning. A deprivation soaked in crimson that struck          a fear of the unknown into honey orifices.

                               But now? Now there is a rage nigh unmatched.                           A mockery that is extended forthright past stubble                           framed lips that caused his stomach to flip in accordance.                           Who the hell was this quincy to try and use maternal                          lack as a weapon. But the agony of it all is that it’s working,                          it’s working against him because all-in-all,                           Kurosaki Ichigo is in fact still human beneath prowess                          granted throughout time’s duration of extensive passing.

                                                               R E S O L V E

             Hallowed be the name of a mother scorned by evil’s        reckoning. Vengeance had already been sealed shut,         the wound tended to.. until now. Freshly ripped back         into reality, opened with the mere likeness of opposing        claim. It sends the mind into a frenzy, reeling back into        the past. It’s nigh impossible for such likes to not unfold        in the wake of what is and what isn’t. And it’s almost like         he can smell it, now.

                               The rain on that unforgiving day.                                                          The river, the girl bait.

                                  Young was he, naive in so many ways.                              And even to this day does that naivete break                             through. (Lo, he is still humane.) But that matters                             not in this reminiscent flurry of a mentality’s betrayal.                             A momentary lapse that rebirths the moment in                              which he lost a mother so pure, so true. The beast                             responsible had fallen once, and then again.                              Slaughtered now into the nothingness that is                              beyond eyes. A void that sucked in a beast by                             death that bore its fangs and sank its teeth into an                              innocence now known as a quincy mother to a                              mixed breed child (father of shinigami root).

               But now this child was enraged even further being          taken back to what once was. By a man that would          rather destroy a sanction of souls and protectors of          those that pass, that protect a balance between the          deceased and the living. A tale as old as time of differences           ne’er having been settled between shinigami and quincy alike.

                                    So let it be that a grip tightens upon guards of duality,                               blades crying out in a silence of light’s glint. A readiness                                to bathe in he blood of discord that so self-righteously                                claimed nonsense to he who has lost more than any                               human should have to bear. A way that the sanity is                                strained and the resolve is beaten and bloodied only                               to be STRENGTHENED and HARDENED like no other.                                That resolve is u-n-p-a-r-a-l-l-e-l-e-d, unmatched by                                any other that he would come across, be it from the                                                               past, the present, or the future.

                  Black hole sun, won’t you come, and wash away the r a i n .

                 Mighty prowess lurches skyward, garb of ebon and            ivory forced through the velocity of wind’s force against            statuesque, youthful framework. Tufts of tangerine furrow            and knit inward, forehead folding in pure disgust and distaste            even further more so than prior of momentary questioning.             A fire is brewed, birthed through unbridled temperament surging            forth like a solar flare. The flash step guides him forthright             on a trail of r e d .

                                           A growl.                                                 “You son of a bitch! Shut the hell up!”                                                              The lion roars, reckless attack nigh.