Welcome to Gaia! ::

"So here's how it all started, quite a long time ago. I can't even remember exactly how long it was anymore, but we're talking the span of decades. Back when I was freshly buried, hardly more than a month after my mortal form was burned away, I was already an outsider, hardly worth a passing glance to anyone. I was simply another rat in the streets to them, so like the rat I was, I would scurry away and hide from them for fear of a second death, but there was never any way to escape. They always found me... found me and beat me until I was absolutely dead in all but fact, all of my being covered with blood and bruises and horrible numbness and stillness. I think that was the worst part: that dreadful, awful, stifling stillness. I could never stand idleness, so to have it forced on me was a fate worse than I could imagine. It seemed as if the men took pleasure in attacking my legs particularly, perhaps because I always tried to run from them... But who wouldn't? I tried to be courageous and stand up to them, but my body and mind disagreed, and I would flee no matter how much I wished to fight back, time and time again."

"It was during this time that I learned to escape my persecution. Now, I had always liked to meditate, because it took the stillness after the beating and made it productive by focusing the mind, will, and energy, but this time, my usual thoughts were interrupted by a distasteful voice, full of haughtiness and scorn. 'You will escape.' it stated simply, deeply, almost divinely, resonating inside my chest with exactly what I wanted. An escape... That was my only response to what seemed to be an offer that would never be fulfilled. It occurred to me that I may just be dreaming shortly after that, but the thought preyed on me, that maybe there was some way to break this cycle, some way to get out of these slums. So I kept running, kept moving around my district, looking for any sign of a way out. Little did I know the way out would come to me."

"Sometime in the following weeks, I noticed that my hair, brown and unkempt, was starting to lighten, to become more auburn than chestnut, and then from auburn to varying and almost dyed colors of red. This was the first effect that spiritual power inside my body even existed. The beatings became more frequent and more vicious, my injuries steadily worse with less time to heal each time their sticks and rocks struck my body. That was the least of my worries, however; the fires were much more pressing. When I would show my face in a market, the stigma of my ever more devilish appearance would have me run out of the small square. Then, when my humiliation had almost finished, something nearby would spark, and there would be a rush to extinguish the embers and to get rid of me for good. I had no idea how the sparks would leap, much less if it were really my fault like they said. All I knew was that I needed to get gone, or I'd be dead."

"That is the last thing I remember outside of the walls. I think the presumed rioting was broken up by shinigami, and they realized I had untapped spiritual potential, thus bringing me into the ranks. But I never asked too many questions about it. I won't look a gift horse in the mouth."