Rena had been pushing for new members for the sixth division for quite some time, only to be told they didn't have anyone who would qualify or some other excuse as to why she was the short staffed division. Law and Order within Soul Society matters too darn it! The black haired girl would just pout to herself over her problem at times, but today was different, not only did she get one new member, she got TWO.

This one was Kishibe Yamada, a tall, somewhat lanky looking male who had good combat instincts, at least as far as Rena could tell from the report given to her, and she was all about combat instincts. She loved combat. It was a wonder she wasn't captain of the Fifth division, but that was a problem for herself and a distant memory of stuff she didn't want to bother recalling.

Back to the point she had called Kishibe Yamada for a meeting so that she could actually get to know her fourth seat, having made it a point to meet with the new third seat later since she had actually forgotten to until now.

She specifically requested he show up in training mode at the barracks of the sixth division. She wanted to see what he could do for herself, more importantly, she wanted to know how to best utilize the new chess piece she now possessed in the grand game of Law and Order. If he didn't fit the police mentality of the sixth division.. well.. either he'd figure it out or she'd find out how to get him in the right head space.

Rena herself was in her usual outfit shorts and a t-shirt. She was constantly getting into trouble for not wearing her Haori all the time, or even using her shinigami robes as often as she should. She still had them of course, even now waiting for her seated member to arrive, just in case she needed to put them on, but she disliked how restrictive they could be.

As soon as Kishibe arrived, she'd happily wave at him, greet him with a hello, and tell him to describe his strengths and weaknesses to her. she'd worry about getting an exhibition of sorts out of him after that initial introduction.

The day had been uneventful for Kishibe thus far. Though, given his duties, he supposed that was a good thing, for his sights were continually focused inwards; his targets, the Shinigami of the Seireitei. A day without incident meant a day that law & order had prevailed once more. Fortunately, it seemed as though the majority of his colleagues were grossly aware of the sixth squadron's presence and their duties; arrests few and far between.

It was, for this exact reason, that the hell butterfly angrily flitting about his nose caused him to jolt. His expression awash with concern, he promptly removed his apron and discarded his utensils. The gardening could wait, whatever situation awaited him took full precedence. Kishibe raised a finger, offering the butterfly a perch and, in so doing, an opportunity for its message to be heard.

Kishibe chuckled, initially, finding humour in his overreaction. His free thumb pre-emptively held against the tsuba of his zanpakuto, ready to flick it from its sheath.
Some nerves remained, however. His captain had hailed him for a meeting. Kishibe's mind grew impatient, the onslaught of questions a greater surprise than that of the summons he'd received. He would stem them for now, however, for he'd not tarry overlong.

This was to be their first meeting, after all, and the concept of 'second first impressions' was nonexistent. With a short series of shunpō, Kishibe arrived at his captain's quarters. With a quick exhale, he straightened his posture, his knuckles rapping against the door.

Ah Kishibe arrived, as he tapped on the door Rena spoke up with a simple, "Come in." and waved at him like she had decided to to earlier, "I know it's a bit sudden and I do apologize for the inconvenience, but I figured it was high time we had a little meet and greet." she placed her chin against her hands as she spoke further, "I want to know your strengths, and if you think you have some, some weaknesses you may possess, I'd also like a bit of a background from you. Yes I could read your file and spit some facts you know about yourself at you on my own, but hearing it from the source is better anyways."

She would wait patiently for his responses to her, but once he had given them, she would nod and grin, "I know it may seem a little silly to ask, but I'd like to have a bit of a demonstration out of you here soon as well. I'm a bit.. hands on. I prefer to know my members through rigorous training and sparring. It may sound like such methods belong in the fifth division.. but it can't be helped as it is simply how I operate."

Rena would wave a hand in the air at this point, "It's simple enough to explain. As the "Police force" of the Soul Society it would fall on us to get physical should a situation arise. I like to make sure my members are up to the task." She'd shake her head slightly and laugh a bit as she felt she was overexplaining her position when all she really needed to do was say "hey we're sparring now." and the guy infront of her wouldn't have the ability to deny her given her position as Captain.

But it made her feel better to try and pretend she didn't belong in the combat division. Memories aside it had been some time since she actively cared about being in a division not currently her own. Problems for another day though. It may have been slightly odd, hearing a slender woman like Rena talking about combat stuff, but beneath that exterior was nothing but muscle. Pure and powerful. Something she was quite happy with given her age.

With a courteous bow, Kishibe promptly found his way to one of the few vacant chairs afore his captain's desk. He leaned forward, his posture rigid as he listened intently to her requests, nodding where appropriate. Though he had yet to part his lips and speak, he was quite sure that Rena was more than able to discern his nerves through the veil of silence. But it was not her presence, nor her reiatsu that caused him fright or even the prospect of fighting her. It was having to divulge his background information.

It was a subject he'd long held behind many proverbial sets of locks and keys, within the lowest depths of his mind. Although the mere thought of sharing this information with his captain caused him great discomfort, the thought of disobeying her weighed heavier still. He shifted back slightly, his movements stiff; if it were not obvious to Rena already that she had discomfited her subordinate, she'd certainly be aware of it now.

With an audible gulp, and an unsteady hand raising his pipe to his mouth, Kishibe began to speak. So as to remain respectful and not risk drawing a few coughs from his captain's lungs, he exited the chair and positioned himself near an open window.
"It brings me great pain... to speak of my past. I'm sure you're aware of that by now. I grew up in Kusajishi, an outcast amongst a village brimming with them... ironic." He paused, a few shallow puffs of smoke and a futile attempt at quelling the twitching of his hand following suit.
"Because they saw me as weak and different... they bullied me for it. The children, the adults... shunned. The adults never raised so much as a finger, a blessing I suppose. But children are wicked, they didn't follow such an example." Kishibe continued, his expression visibly darkening, his spiritual pressure rioting in synchronisation with his heart, veritable war drums.
"I was beaten, stoned, and cut... but through all the pain I bore, it was their laughter that wounded me the most. So I ran. I ran and I hid, never sleeping in the same place twice, with each new sunset came a new pile of muck to lie in. I lost weight, my diet consisting only of whatever scraps and plants I could seek my teeth into. I lived, if you could call it that, like a prey item... forever on the run, forever hunted. To them it was a game, to me it was utter torment."

Kishibe paused once more, his breathing shallow and laborious, yet he continued to incessantly puff at his pipe, the tobacco alone providing him with a sense of loose comfort.
"They didn't care if I was bruised, broken or not. If they found me, they made room for fresh additions. Black and blue were the only colours I'd ever really known. It wasn't until I experienced my first... outburst, that they realised their mistake. It was that outburst that lead me here."
Kishibe resumed, discarding the small lump of ash and returning to his seat.
"This information was never included in my file, for I wished it so. But had I known that, one day, I would be made to relive it all... I would have."

Kishibe spat, the adrenaline coursing through his veins momentarily disrupting rational thought, in that moment he cared not for adherence to the hierarchy. Respect had made its grave.
"But know this. Not a single day passes where the thought of vengeance doesn't cross my mind. The welcoming arms of the Seireitei spared them, not me. It would have taken years, given my state. But I would have gladly relished in killing every single fucking one of them."

Kishibe's knuckles whitened, his hands practically suffocating the innocent leather arm rests. His words were venom, his tone acidic. It was then that he rose from the seat, removing his sunglasses and gazing intently at his superior.
"Why waste yet more words? If you wish to learn my strengths and weaknesses, why offer you a needless lecture when I can educate you with my blades? Use me to your fullest. It brings me no joy to fight, but I will do what I must."
Kishibe concluded, pivoting on his heels and promptly vacating the nigh-claustrophobic office. Perhaps some fresh air, and fresher scars would do him some good.

Rena simply stayed in her chair, though she leaned back in it and propped her legs on the desk as she listened and watched Kishibe as he began to pour out the details that had been requested of him. The man got visibly upset while he recalled his treatment in North Rukongai as a child, and continued to get more and more upset as he progressed through his story. However Rena remained completely lucid and calm during his reiatsu spikes and his obviously venomous tone while he talked.

Everything he said was about on par with most reports she had heard about some of the lesser patrolled Districts. She wasn't surprised as much as he might suspect, and shamefully she had been hounding Central 46 to allow her more budget and manpower to fix that very problem from being an issue in the first place only to fail miserably because the stuck up nobles didn't think it was important enough.

The moment of her losing even an ounce of calm however, came when he stated he would prefer vengeance and killing his aggressors. That was fifth division speak, it was not suited to the Police Force mentality of the sixth division, while Rena personally understood, she made it quite clear that he needed to keep better control on that particular subject in the future with what happened next and what was said by her when it occured.

Her legs, just perched on the desk casually, twitched slightly and caused the desk they were on to crack in several places near her feet, though not fully so it remained in one piece still. Her tone was very..stern, but did not have anger behind it and was almost said sympathetically despite the forceful way it was said.

"You can not allow such thoughts to cloud your judgement in the future."

Rena relaxed as she said it, put her feet down off the now damaged desk, and sighed softly as she shook her head and her tone immediately lightened as she continued, "I can understand, even sympathize, but you are not in a position where such a thing would be tolerated or allowed." at this point, she stood up, mostly because he had, in a round about way, decided against his own non-fight nature and worked himself up into a fighting mood.

Normally Rena would be happy that someone wanted to train with her, but she was too old to be Naive and immediately recognized he was more being a pissy child than he may have intended to be. So while they still walked outside and she prepared to spar with him on the front lawn of her office, she made it a point to speak out again.

"you know.. This reminds me of a very old story.." She put up her dukes a bit in a basic boxing stance just as a show since her style didn't really have a "starting position.", "It'll sound silly, but hear me out. far as I know it's a true story and it happened over nine hundred years ago.."

Even if he attacked, she would continue talking and deal with his attempts as necessary, but the story would continue during the match even if he tried to not give her time to speak, "There was a slave back then. Fiery spirit and the resolve to never give in I hear. She was sold to a gladiator pit because she defended herself against her owner's son one time.. but that's not the point, in the pit she learned everything she would ever need about combat, learned that she was good at it, that she enjoyed it, striving to perfect the art called combat. You know what happened? Fear and prejudice. Fear from how skilled she became and prejudice because she didn't have a dick between her legs. She was eventually tied down, hog style even, beaten, stoned, cut, similar to how you described yourself. Up until the point she finally died from her injuries."

If he hadn't attacked her by now, she would motion for him to begin trying to do so with a "come and get me" hand motion, but regardless of if he did so or not, the story kept going, "You know what her final thought was? you'd think it would be something like hatred, anger, sorrow, maybe even a little regret. But this slave, this girl, thought her life was good, that she had done all she could, and that it her fellow peers, who were currently killing her slowly, were still just infants trying to make sense of something they couldn't understand. In that moment of clarity she forgave them.. and instead of becoming a hollow which strove to end their existence from the sheer negative emotions of a brutal demise... she ended up going to Soul Society.. just like you."

"We skip around a bit and we find this slave in Rukongai, fancy that huh, she had awoken with one hell of a headache in Soul Society.. and she immediately got sick. You see.. turns out her spirit was too strong.. her pseudo spirit body granted to her after death couldn't handle the amount of reiatsu it was now capable of producing.. She came down with something we now call Reiatsu Overload Syndrome, and for over a full century she suffered constantly, unable to fight at full strength for more than mere minutes at a time, unable to regulate her own spiritual pressure so that she was dangerous to simply be near if she got emotional, I heard it was an absolutely awful time."

"but we'll skip the nitty gritty a bit again.. she got better. In the end. She recovered from her sickness by constantly pushing herself to her limits and beyond to make it happen. She never gave up, she never gave in."

At this point, despite the possibility that she may be in mid-combat at the time, she would stop for just a moment as she sighed a bit, "Anyways the point is.. You are in a position far beyond what those who wronged you could hope to achieve on their own. I'm not going to force you to forgive them, but you should try to move past that pain. Slaughtering them would change nothing, leave you feeling empty, and since you murdered people, you'd be put to death or imprisoned for life in the Maggot's Nest."

His zanpakutō were drawn. His stance narrow and low, leaving little to no openings. Yet, from behind his lenses, his vision was clouded. His grip upon his swords unusually lax. The blades rattled, visibly, their metallic clicks audible. Kishibe shook not with adrenaline, but pure fragility.
Rena's words had hurt him more than any weapon could have hoped to achieve, for each of them rang true.

For many an age, his heart had panged with vengeance, his mind deafened with thoughts concerned only of rage; of which no amount of gardening, or feigned ignorance could provide him with a sufficient distraction. Pain, sadness and loneliness greeted him often. Undesirable and persistent, like old friends with which one longed to disassociate. But his body remembered. It simply could not allow the man to forget.

His hands slipped, and his knees gave way. Both swordsman and his weapons colliding with the ground in a befuddled and depressing heap. Kishibe's breathing grew shallow and rapid, laborious as his body attempted to counteract this moment of sheer weakness. Though it was futile in the end, his arms could do naught but hold his head from the ground; his fingers numbed, clutching at the dirt. Realisation had struck him like the proverbial master's whip. Kishibe had cracked.

His warped perspective had decreed that he was infallible, that his actions could one day be justified. How could he have been so wrong?

Had it really taken his captain stating the seemingly obvious for Kishibe to realise the error of his ways? He knew not. He wished he could say he cared not. But he could never be so arrogant. His emotional instability had long lead him astray, his path erroneous and ever spiralling further and further downwards. It would leave him irreparable. His anger had bled into determination, and it had lead him this far. To believe it would have lead him further would be a fool's errand.

Kishibe had blinded, and it was this very 'affliction' that had defeated him now.

"I... I yield."

Kishibe could only assume, but he would not deign to ask the question were he incorrect. But the girl from his captain's tale had been Rena herself. She alone could empathise with him in that moment. It cut him deep. Deeper than any zanpakutō. Deeper than any stone his former bullies had ever thrown. For it was the objective truth.

His arrogance had lead him to forsake the tenets of his division. The laws of which he had sworn to uphold. Kishibe's pride, or lack thereof, had been shattered. For how dare he have the gall to cast those very same laws upon another when he himself had been guilty all along. Rena's swift judgment need only be a mirror, for Kishibe could now clearly see just how far he'd fallen.

It seemed that for the most part, her story had enthralled him, for despite being told he could begin. He merely stayed put and listened to her tell her tale. As hoped, it seemed to resonant with him on a personal, and more importantly, mental level. He yielded moments later and looked like he had been hit by a truck. Metaphorically of course since Rena didn't actually get to throw a punch.

While slightly disappointed that she didn't get to punch anything, she kept that to herself, and merely waited for him to regain his composure a bit. He continued to appear to be in self-reflection for a minute, then two, then three. Finally Rena got ever so slightly impatient and cleared her throat to grab his attention, "Why don't we go ahead and just call a rain check for now rather than loss or win? hm? I do believe you have had a valuable breakthrough.. and will need some time to adjust to the implications." She would have normally acted all cute and innocent and possibly even giggle a bit, but this was serious time, so she stowed it and remained firm in both stature and tone, "Even if you'd rather not have a rematch, that's fine. This is more important to come to terms with and may take some time."

She offered to help him up, but wouldn't force him to his feet, only getting him to do so if he collected himself enough to do so on his own volition, "I may not be the best at this, but I hope I could be helpful in some small way. If you ever have any questions, concerns, or simply need someone to talk with I am always available. Doesn't hurt that i'm your captain so. Ya know. Makes it easier to find me."

Minutes seemed to melt into hours for Kishibe as he knelt, defeated and dejected, though Rena's words had granted him clarity. Wiping the tears from his eyes, and the sweat from his weary brows, he accepted Rena's kindness, his captain pulling him to his feet with unsurprising ease. He did not, and would not, ever doubt her strength. Nor would he seek to disappoint her like that ever again. Starting now. He smiled, wistful, yet it seemed to convey that the beginnings of inner peace had began to sprout from within him.

It would take many a year, he assumed, and with training and guidance much more difficult than mere shinigami arts, but he would one day be awarded his serenity.
"You... you're just like me, Lisola-taichō. A thousand pardons for my gross misconduct... and doubly so in thanks for your honesty, patience, and understanding."
Kishibe replied, leaning forwards and bowing deeply to emphasise his gratitude and respect for her. He would then proceed to return his naked blades to their scabbards upon his waist, lest he seek to anger Raimei & Inazuma further.

Kishibe would neither tarry further, nor deny his captain the duel that she'd been expecting. Removing his sunglasses, floral hairpiece and kimono, he stepped a few paces to the side, laying them in a neatly folded pile. There they would be out of harm's way at least, if a little dusty upon its conclusion.
"You may think me to be in no condition to fight, and you'd mostly be correct in thar regard. But you expected a duel, a test of my strengths and weaknesses. And that is what you shall receive, I don't wish to disappoint you no longer. I came her today to prove my worth as a reliable asset. I seek to do just that. What's done is done, the same goes for what was said. I only hope you'll continue to extend your hand to me in future, so that I may continue to ascend, as opposed to falling as I have done"
'For the longest time...' he thought, drawing his swords once more with renewed vigor, calm and focused.

He adopted the same stance as he had before, sidelong, narrow and low. His wakizashi gleaming against the sun overhead, his katana extended outwards, its tip accurately pointed towards Rena. His blades tightly gripped in his hands, their weight comfortable. His vision clearer than it had ever been. He was ready. Kishibe would dissatisfy his captain no longer, from this moment henceforth... until the very end of his days.