Wind of Change

Junction
. Afternoon.

A nondescript glade in the middle of nowhere. A place, somewhere, within the vast realm of the. Heaven. Purgatory. The vestibule of Hell. The man currently known only as Tōsō pondered about this location. How come any area of such an important aspect of the whole existence could feel so... mundane. Ordinary, unimportant. Blue sky with a few clouds stretching across it. Trees, green leaves and tall grass rustling in the gentle wind. He could even hear the soothing sounds of forest animals nearby. The birds were chirping, those adorable little critters.

And for a time he wanted to destroy all of that. He sunk so deep in the desperation he so cherished that the world around him began collapsing, dragging everything and everyone around him into the chasm of oblivion. He thought he was strong, unyielding in the face of impossible odds. In truth, he had surrendered long ago and merely deluded himself. He sneered at common people and their delusions, himself subject to a lie he thrived upon. More than that, he projected the tragedy of his long life upon the rest of the world and decided to destroy it whole, unable to cope with his own failures.

That was not the way. He despised his commanders, his colleagues, for attempting to exploit him, his exceptional power, for telling him what to do and demanding absolute obedience. And what exactly he had been doing for the last thousand years? Spreading his sorrow and nihilism like a plague, coercing people to give up, become insane and lash out against their misfortune in a blind, mindless rage. It was easy to destroy something. But did not he want to mould a better world a long, long time ago? Was that not his original, greatest wish? The very reason and cause for what he had become.

The recent encounter with the esteemed Seireitō Kawahiru opened his eyes. Tōsō was ready to work in order to improve the imperfect existence. To cooperate with others and toil together. He was ready to accept other opinions, to nod at mistakes and encourage the people to carry on, with their heads held high. After much deliberation he determined he should re-establish his connection with the Gotei 13. For all their atrocities and arrogance, they were ultimately the guardians of order. They were definitely the group to address if he required assistance in his new endeavour. And they would require his assistance rather soon, given a grave threat looming over the horizon.

The location was perfect. Far away from any settlement, enough to avoid... collateral damage, yet close enough to attract the attention he wanted. In consequence, Tōsō drew out his latent power. From the heavily suppressed state matching that of a normal Soul he rose rapidly, a few orders of magnitude, until he reached what he estimated to be the level of a Captain of the modern era. He shone like a beacon of spiritual power amongst the relative emptiness of a vast forest. Fortunately, not as strongly so as to adversely impact the environment. He swore to himself to never let his power loose recklessly again. Too many had suffered unnecessarily.

Now, he had to wait. The beacon was lit, waiting for a moth to approach it.