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it's okay to lose to an opponent, but never lose to FEAR//

boards don't hit back

Created on 2007-04-19 23:29:13 (#12768751), last updated 2007-06-18

3 comments received, 200 comments posted

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1 Journal Entry, 2 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 15 Userpics

Basic Info

Name:	Arisawa Tatsuki
Birthdate:	07-17
Website:	fear B O R N E

Bio

ARISAWA TATSUKI
Fighting was her constant. Growing up in a household where speaking meant yelling, where maturity was required long before a child’s time, Tatsuki learned to fight fire with fire, learned that actions did indeed speak louder than words. Confidence came in the form of fists, and any unfortunate opponents were quick to learn that Tatsuki was someone to be feared. She reveled in the feel of fist meeting skin, be it hers or not, reveled in the knowledge that she was able to push people down and stand on top.

Until she met the little boy with the flaming orange hair.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t defeat him in the ring—quite to the contrary, she won every round and landed every hit—nor did she have any trouble making her superiority known. In fact, his responses were more pronounced than anyone else she faced in rounds, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks at the slightest hit. Instead, it was the fact that every time, he bounced right back. He cried a fucking river, sure, but as soon as his mother stepped in the room to take him home, the tears dried, replaced with a smile which almost seemed to illuminate the entire room.

She envied that.

Perhaps that envy, perhaps seeking out any chance of attaining that sort of close bond, was what kept their friendship going through the years. And, whether or not she realized it, she got it—someone who she eventually leaned on just as much as he had needed to all those years ago by the river. She found others as well—a particular bubbly redhead comes to mind—and in this newfound sense of friendship Tatsuki found something constant, something she wanted to protect at all costs.

Girls with scissors were easy enough to fend off. It was when she no longer knew the enemy—and consequently, grew distant from her friends—that Tatsuki began to panic. Not that she would ever admit it, of course; keeping up a mask of confidence was what everyone expected of her, after all. But it would take a fool not to notice the little things that clearly showed that something had gone awry. When the boy with the flaming orange hair returned from his annual visits to the grave with eyes filled not with sorrow, but with firm resolve. Or when her best friend explained that she would be gone for a summer without any means of contact. Even the fireworks in the sky hadn’t been able to drown out the painful thrumming in her chest that night.

But perhaps the most foolish thing of all was letting them drift away. When the first of the two disappeared, leaving behind not a trace, all the anger which had been writhing finally burst out. Orihime wasn’t the type who could stand on her own, Tatsuki reasoned. And so she yelled, yelled at the only person who she knew would never abandon anyone. For the first time in months, she hit him with all the force of her frustrations. It was only when he turned away that Tatsuki realized that perhaps the one to be blamed was her. If he hadn’t been there for Orihime, Tatsuki sure as hell hadn’t been either.

So Tatsuki swore off playing it safe. She wasn’t about to let anyone out of her sights again.

A year has passed since she entered that dingy shop on the outskirts of town, since she was finally shown the world beyond that she grew up in. Most of Karakura knows the ‘details’ about Arisawa Tatsuki, about the martial arts prodigy that had given the town ten seconds of fame. Many can also tell you about the accident she sustained during her most recent karate round in Tokyo, where she mysteriously fainted and fell into a coma before the final round of the national karate tournament. They can point to the local clinic—the one run by crazy old man Kurosaki—where her otherwise healthy body still lies, attached to IV drips and whirring life support machines. Like everything else in Karakura, it’s constant, and it has been accepted.

There are a select few, however, who know that the body which lies in the local clinic no longer holds Arisawa Tatsuki, and not because she has passed on, nor as a result of the ‘coma’ that has supposedly befallen her. Those are the ones who were with her that day at Urahara Shoten, who watched as the feisty girl insisted that she be allowed to take action for the sake of the two who mattered most in her life. No, neither of those two know what Tatsuki has done, and if they did, perhaps things would be panning out differently now, but all Tatsuki knows is that the decision was the only one she could live with making.

It didn’t take very long for her to work her way to graduation at the Shinigami Academy, both willpower and pulled strings working in her favor, and her devil-may-care attitude quickly earned her a spot in the coveted—well, arguably so—eleventh division. A little more time was needed for her to be accepted by those within it, being a woman and of questionable physical stature, but she pulled her weight, bore the ridicule that often skirted along the lines of abuse, and has been—once again, arguably—accepted as one of their ranks.

These days, she faces a lot of pressure with regards to the ever-strengthening divide between the Old and the New Movement, but true to her stubborn nature, Tatsuki has refused to pick a side, always ready with a hearty ‘fuck you’ to all those who try to pressure her in either direction. Part of her justifies this lack of action because the information is scarce and comparisons cannot be easily drawn, and yet some of her wonders if it’s the fear of seeing them again.

Of finding them and realizing that even bonds as strong as the ones they once had can be broken.

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Pain is the best instructor, but no one wants to go to his class.
-- Choi Hong Hi

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Interests (7):

apple pie, fighting, ichigo, karate, orihime, owning your face, vale tudo

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