Name: Ban Saeberling
Nick name/alias: (optional)
Age: 18
Visual Age: 285
Gender: Male
Division: 11th Division Captain
Personality: Ban has an attitude that most would refer to as self-confidence. He has a certain air about himself that makes it appear as if he believes he is better than everyone around him. Many have tried to discover what makes him 'tick' but what they've found was someone who cares about absolutely nothing. Those who try to appeal to his 'inner child' have found a cold, barren heart that rarely ever beats. Behind his taunting words is a cry for help. Under his melancholy nature is a suicidal maniac. His easy personality is a feint; one to distract the outside world of the ever violent storm of hatred and self-loathing. His ever-judging eyes glare hardest towards himself.
Appearance:
- Spoiler:
History/Background:
Only the highest authority in the Soul Society know the truth about Ban's parents. They were part of a rebellion trying to overthrow the Soul Society, however, they were captured. Due to his pregnant mother's lineage, the two were spred, but in exchange, their newborn baby was taken away at birth, never to know the truth about his parents.
While Ban was still a child he was taken to a village to be raised outside the Sereitei. There he was given to a retired Shinigami trainer where he would begin the most intense workout of his entire life. Every morning the young man would be forced to eat a large meal, which he would eventually expel, and then he was off for his warm-up exercises, which included moving boulders, running laps around the village, and swimming at least a mile in the river.
His combat training would start mid-day after his exhausting warm-ups. Completely wiped out, he was forced to learn hand-to-hand combat by sparring with the war veteran himself. What he was instead learning was how to take a hit, because he was the only one ever getting hit.
After his combat training the young Shinigami would preform his cooldown exercise, which was just a simple lap around the village; one that seemed like an eternity one a young and fatigued body such as his.
When Ban turned eleven he was brought back to the Sereitei to recieve specialized training along with the rest of the Shinigami. It was easy to say he advanced quickly through the standard training programs.
After a year of training under these men, Ban had finally called out the name of his Zanpaktou and ascended to a higher level of Shinigami. Training with his Shikai, because he always thought of his sealed weapon as useless, he mastered the sword's second state in almost no time at all.
He trained for countless hours trying to master the weight of his weapon, but one day he was able to tap into the sword's element, granting the Shikai a weightless feeling. Now able to wield the sword with little to no effort, he now trains more on style than anything else.
Now, after years of training, the Shinigami lives as an official seated in the 12th squad , taking on odd jobs involving hunting Hollows and other types of work. He can be thought of as a mercenary, but rather not be thought about at all. His training has made him nothing more than a shadow, ready to deal death's blow at a moment's notice.
Ban has achieve his Bankai form, his Zanpaktou Spirit, sometimes forces images of what Ban would appear like if he ever were to grow wings like the shadowy spirit. This is only to taunt the Shinigami about how he will never free himself from the chain of life.
Ban, in many instances, has purposely been distracted by his zan spirit; causing him to receive life-threatening wounds in a battle. It would sometimes seem as if his spirit was trying to get him killed.
Ban's life's goal is to become the strongest Shinigami ever to exist, but he has an idea that this will never be, which keeps him from getting overly serious about this goal. In pursuit of his life's ambition, the Shinigami has participated in many unrecorded battles, and has accomplished many unrecognized feats. He is well known simply for not being known at all, but this has never seemed to bother him before.
What he truly wants, however, is to find someone or something that is strong enough to kill him. He wishes to fight an opponent that will finally grant his miserable existence an ending he can be contempt with. He finds no point in his life. He sees no reason why he is needed, since he works very ordinary jobs anyone other than himself could do. His training has stripped him of any sense of individuality as far as a soul is concerned, and has rid him of the idea that everyone has a purpose other than servitude. In the end, no matter how much he rebels, his life will continue to spin in its desolate rotation, and his emotionless eyes will always block out his cries for help.
Rp sample:
The morning breeze ever so lightly caresses the young man's hair as he flies peacefully through the skies. His arching ocean blue hair taps across his peaceful face as he slowly descends to another rooftop.
He lands as soundlessly as a cloud and takes off into a sprit while his muscular caramel arms trail limply behind him. He reaches the edge of the roof and pushes off into the sky. His ocean blue eyes glow through their barely open lids as a peaceful smile spreads across his face.
Kyo loves the sky. His heart's true desire is to take off into the air, never again having to set foot upon the ruined ground that houses his pain, his suffering, his contempt.
His eyes open and a cocky smirk works its way across his face when he realizes he is falling short of a house.
Leaning forward, Kyo enters a front-flip, pushing himself forward through the air, however, it is still not enough to save himself.
His foot lands flat on the edge of the building and gravity wastes no time in pulling him closer to the pavement below.
The arrogance in this teen fuels his actions, causing him to back-flip from the side of the building and across the morning sun. With his arms spread and his head arching back, he pulls his legs over his body into another flip while he gently sails to the busy street below.
Reaching out, he grabs onto a streetlight and acrobatically flips himself around, releasing once his legs were above his head. He completes the flip once his feet are on the streetlight and he stands up, brushing his hair from in front of his ocean blue eyes.
"I wonder how its like to be human..." He says aloud to himself while watching the nameless people below make their daily rounds through their world. "I wonder how it is to be blissfully unaware of your surroundings. Oh well. They have their world, and I have mine."
After a moment of observing the blissfully unaware civillians, he notices something; a dark figure moving about a building. The Shinigami squints his ocean blue eyes, peering through the glare of the morning sunlight into a window, and surely enough he spotted its ivory mask. "Bingo..."
To the unseeing passer-byers, it appeared as nothing more than a gust of wind, but it was truely Kyo taking off from the streetlight in an inhuman leap towards the window. He sails smoothly through the air, almost like he was born there and the leather straps from his cargo pants beat against the wind while they flail about.
The Shinigami lands as quietly as a feather on the 5th floor's edge and jumps down. He calmly walks to the room’s door and grips the handle firmly. With a quiet turn, he pulls the handle, and surely enough, it opens with a slow and eerie creek.
The Shinigami steps into darkness so pure, only being broken up by the cascading beams of light through the dingy window. His eyes quickly adjust to the night, giving him the vision of a nocturnal hunter. He steps deeper into the abandoned room, taking care to step over the broken chair legs and torn furnature.
He steps into the center of the room and the ocean blue gems that were his eyes slowly scan the room for anything out of the ordinary. Had he missed it? Suddenly, a strange, yet familiar smell rides the wind and into his nose. His senses perk up and his muscles tense: it was behind him.
The skulled mask with two horizontal rows of triangular teeth breathes down the Shinigami's neck while he stands there, seemingly paralyzed in the moment.
"Not every day my prey comes to me." The Hollow speaks like three dead souls all mashed into one. It raises its hand, which had long, two foot spines for fingers, and it speaks once again. "Time for the Shinigami to go bye bye."
The creature of nightmares slashes down with swift and deadly accurate speed, and its claws tear the wooden floors beneath it, but a curious sound grunts from underneath its mask as it no longer sees its prey.
Suddenly, a strange, yet familiar smell rides the wind and into its nose. Its senses perk up and its muscles tense: he... was behind it. "Not every day my prey comes to me." His words a taunting mockery of the Hollow, sends a chill up the creatures spine. It slowly turns, only to witness a tight fist careening straight for it. The fist hits dead-center, and the Hollow's head cocks back while fragments of its mask drift in the air beside it. "Time for the Hollow to go bye bye."
As the beast falls to the ground, its body begins to break apart, and it completely disintegrates before it can touch he floor. Kyo cracks his knuckles, a pleased smirk snaking its way across his face, and he turns away before exiting the darkness of the room. "One down. Four more to go."
