Welcome to Gaia! ::

Buru had been wandering for hours, with no intent of getting un-lost. His thoughts raced on the past six years of training. Sure he already could use any hand held weapon, it still felt like a dream to cast kidou at a target and to watch it take effect. What was extremely interesting was the fact that he could bind targets. The first time he was used as a target he couldn’t believe how painful it was to be pulled back and pinned by something one couldn’t see with bare eyes. He was one of the few that could pull himself back out of the binding spell. Physical strength helped but what one needed to be a Shinigami was spiritual strength. Samurai relied on their physical ability but now it was like having an extra set of arms and legs, he needed to learn how to walk again. His instructors did a great job teaching the old samurai new tricks and new fighting techniques. He was surprised how much he could learn from younger warriors. It was so impressive to see a few students be able to stand up to his swordsmanship. Of course he was by far one of the best weapons masters within Soul Society he didn’t feel right entering the combat specialist division. They where aimless killers that awaited for the next order; killing was an art and had it’s own rules and thirteenth division properly supported his views and ethics.

Stopping in an opening Buru looked to his four blades that rested firmly yet comfortably just above his but. His prized weapon, the zanpacto they called it… When he created it at first he doubted that it’d ever be like the sword he wield during his life. Out of the few memories he had of his past life he remember clearly what his weapon felt like, how it looked, and just how perfectly he was matched to it. There where so many times that that weapon was used as a tool rather than a weapon. He’d abused it, but at times the weapon would nick him as he swept it through his enemies. He qualified those times he’d make a mistake as his weapon abusing him… of course it was all in his head, and his sword was nothing more than his imaginary best friend. To be blunt he loved that sword with his entire being, and if it where to ever be permanently broke he would have literally put an end to his own life.

There where thousands of times he was offered a better and sharper blade, but always he turned it down. He had already fell in love with his own blade. He died holding his blade and as a corpse his hand had to be cut from his arm to take the blade. That was why he became a Shinigami. To reunite himself with his sword; when he created his sword his old friend came back from the living world and into the next. The large man was thought to be an emotionless samurai warrior, but he had to remove himself from the room because he couldn’t stop crying. It was then and there in the academy that people thought he was a bit strange. But none of them understood his connection between him and his blade. When he was left alone on a battle field where he was the only survivor his blade remained sharp, strong and reliable. He dragged his half limp body and his blade from that battle field to fight another battle and to become a commander of a lords entire army. This sword that he held in his hand was his best friend. Buru had named it long ago, when his father first gave it to him when he was only fourteen years old. For some reason though, he couldn’t remember the name. His instructors had told him that once he figured out the weapons name he’d know how to activate his Shikai. Buru didn’t care about gaining power… he wanted to know his best friends name.

Drawing the blade he held it out towards the sky, his thoughts calmed as the blade hummed a low soft tune before the sound hummed away into the distance. Why wont you ever whisper your name to me? My old best friend… When ever I draw you, your low hum always whispers calming words into my soul, but never your name.” Chuckling as he sheathed it he stared down to it as a friend look admiringly to his best friend.