Zeraphin Apollo Rotbaron III - Shinigami

[Der König]

S H I N I G A M I
Zeraphin Apollo Rotbaron III

---

B A S I C S //
Laying down the bricks //

• Nickname/s | Usually people just call him "Zer", though in the end it does not matter what you really call him. He does not care about what you come up with, be it "Zera"; "Apollo 13"; "Reddy"; "Red Riding Hood" or other such names. Though IF asked he will tell you to call him "Zeraphin" - after all, he picked that name because he likes it.
• DOB | 7th November.
• Age | 377 [40].
• Sexuality | Asexual. I think...
• Ethnicity | Austrian.
• Occupation | 13th Division Captain
• Loyalty | He is not loyal to anybody, probably not even himself.

---

ABILITIES //
Proof of who I am //

Zanpakutou

• Zanpakutou Spirit |
Name: | Kokushibyou [Black Death] & Kemuri Chinou [Smoked Brain].
Appearance: | It is hard to make out what his zanpakuto spirits really look like... and where one starts and the other ends. Kokushibyou would remind one of a rabbit... or rather a hare, though with almost human facial expressions. It has tired eyes, which are circled black and heavily wrinkled at the underside, making the brown orbs look defeated and dull. Its... or rather his ears are flappy and hanging down lifelessly. They would reach his shoulders... if he had any. His face morphs into what seems to be a neck, before his body resembles a cloud, his limbs looking like smoke wires coming out of it.

Somewhere at his abdomen a cloud wire morphs into Kemuri Chinou's upper body. From waist upwards she is visible - taking the appearance of a small girl at the age around twelve. She seems to be wearing a sleeveless dress of a rusty color - the same color as Kokushibyou's fur. She has deathly pale skin, a slim - almost skeletal body, and long, black hair - the ends of it transforming into thick, black smoke too. The most shocking part about her appearance are her hollow eye-sockets.

Spirit Form:

Personality: | The dominant part of the partnership seems to be taken by Kemuri. The girl seems playful and enjoys taunting other people. She is also fast in noticing things, witty and prefers it when all attention is on her. It was also her, who had figured out Zer's real name and enjoys to annoy him by calling Michael.

Kokushibyou is the careless part. There is no chance in hell that he will pick any side, that he will make decisions or a side. He is fair and he sees everybody as the same, without judging, without discriminating without seeing any form of difference between beings. He also rather enjoys talking very slowly, stretching vocals for long, at the point where you just want to shake him and tell him to get it on. He does not care. He won't even lift an eyebrow at your impatience. The only moment when he does seem to give off any form of life is when he is playing tag.
He loves playing tag.
Though maybe only because it makes Kemuri laugh happily.

• Inner World | The most obvious part of Zer's inner world is that everything is a shade of black, white and gray. Not a single color can be spotted. The next obvious part, probably one that will slap you in the face, is that there is neither a beginning nor an end in his world. Big stone towers are connected by wide, thick stone bridges decorated with beautiful ornaments. Not only towers though - as houses too can be seen. Round ones, also made of stone. Those houses are connected with more stone bridges and also stone stairs. It is impossible to make out which bridge/stair connects which tower/house or if it even connects anything at all and is not merely a trap. The towers and houses are all sporting doors, more often than not there are more than one door, though most are located where they can never be reached anyway.

Inner World:

• Sealed state | The unreleased of his zanpakuto measures 3'11" in length. The blade runs from the handle slightly downwards, before moving up into an arch, where the tip is seemingly cut off. The blade is completely black, except the sharp part, which is of a dark, metallic gray. Along the black part of the blade, which is also sporting four spikes - the tips of those moving towards the handle, soft dusty white "clouds" are visible, reminding one of fog or smoke.
The handle of his zanpakuto makes up 1 foot of its length and its pattern reminds you of snake scales. Like the blade it also is made out of black metal. Between blade and handle a short metallic stick is separating those two things, instead of even it seems to sport a slight wave though. The end of the handle is protected by a metallic cap, which seems to unevenly run down the handle. At the site of the sharp end of the blade the cap runs down approximately two inches and on the side merely 0.8 inches. On top of the cap, the end of the handle, a small metallic loop could be seen, with a red ribbon tied onto it.

Unlike usual zanpakutos Zer's does not have a sheath. He usually has another red ribbon around the handle of his zanpakuto to tie it to a belt-loop.

Appearance:

Shikai
• Overall Ability |
Once Zer said his shikai command his zanpakuto immediately disappears, seemingly disappearing in thin air. Only traces of smoke seem to be left in the air around Zer. With the help of it Zer can ruin the vision of his opponent and/or poison them.

• Release phrase | False Turn!
• Shikai Appearance | Traces of smoke are left around him - usually he immediately creates an area of smoke.

Bankai
• Overall Ability | (DO NOT USE)
• Release phrase | (DO NOT USE)
• Bankai Appearance | (DO NOT USE) [IMG*]image url (if there is an image)[/IMG]

---

APPEARANCE //
Further than just the skin //

• Height | 7'4".
• Weight | 217 lbs.
• Hair color & Style | Crimson hair which reaches his mid-back and is always swept backwards - out of his face.
• Eye color | Pale orange eyes.
• Overall Appearance |
Zer is a man who might never manage to hide as he is somebody who simply sticks out. He stands tall at 7'4" and 217 lbs, with a muscular frame [not over the top though - he has lean muscles] and wide, strong shoulders. His back is always straight and his posture demanding - as he sees no reason to try and hide anything about himself.

Another striking feature of him is his bright, crimson hair which reaches his mid-back and is always swept backwards - out of his face. Some loose strands might fall forwards from time to time, but they never hide his vision - hide his pale, orange eyes, which always hold a glimmer of aloofness in them. Over the visible part of the bridge of his nose, between his eyes and up his forehead disappearing in his hair runs a long, thin, scar of the same crimson as his hair, which often looks like a strand of hair is hanging in his face.

A dramatic aspect of his appearance is the mask he is always seen wearing. Nobody knows if he is missing some of his slightly tanned skin, tries to hide some scars or merely wears it to make people wonder. He will never answer that question. The mask is made out of two materials - metal and leather. From one ear to the other runs a thin, 0.4 inches, dark gray metal bar, disappearing under his hair, behind his ears - holding his mask in position. It is not an even line though as a it has two, light curves - running over the hollow bones of his eyes. Left and right to the bridge of his nose the heads of two screws are visible, making it look like the metal bar is screwed to his face. Two 0.4" time 0.4" plates are seemingly screwed to the beginnings of his jawline - the screw head a little larger than the ones next to the bridge of his nose and the two screws seemingly holding a 0.4" times 1.2" metal plate against his chin. Between the metal red leather, looking like flesh, is stretched - covering all of his lower face. The leather completely molds against his face, making it look like it is his own flesh which has become visible. Only when he opens his mouth a slight part of his actual skin becomes visible next to the corners of his mouth. Around his mouth area a wide row of light red teeth are designed on the mask.

Zer absolutely loathes the Shinigami uniform and is therefore usually seen in suits. Mind you, he has a wide collection of different suits in all forms and colors plus fitting accessorizes [fur coats, his favorite is of a crimson color and made out of lamb-fur; walking canes, hats, you name it]. He is most often seen wearing dark purple dress pants held up by same colored suspenders, which are placed against a white, long-sleeved, but button-less dress shirt - which is usually open enough to reveal most of his well muscled chest. A dark purple suit jacket is usually laid over his wide shoulders, though he rarely wears it. His dress shoes are of a fine, light black leather, almost appearing gray. He prefers wearing this outfit when working as it allows him the most movement when fighting.
Attention, when there is a high-ranking ceremony taking place though he is willing to drape his haori over his shoulders, wearing his suit underneath it [of course exchanging the haori for his suit jacket - not wearing both at the same time]. His haori looks like a plain haori, surprisingly no changes have been made. The inside of it is of the same crimson as his hair.

Der Baron:

---

PERSONALITY //
Understand the invisible //

• Positive Traits |

• You know where you stand...
  
  Zer is somebody who does not talk a lot, if at all, though when he feels like he has to say something - you can be certain that he will. He is blunt to the level it becomes painful; be it about the way a mission should be handled, his co-workers, your appearance or simply about what he thinks of the day.
  
  
• The patience of a stone...
  
  You cannot make him lose his cool. Even IF you manage to anger him he will never lash out or act on his emotions. Zer is always calm and surprisingly a rather good listener too. If a random Shinigami were to come up to him and tell him their lifestory he would sit still and actually listen until the person was done. No, be it a fight, meeting or just daily life - Zer stays level-headed. Maybe it is due to this attribute that he actually feels good in his skin. It might be hard to tell if he is happy, but he is at least content with being exactly who he is.
  
  
• Not a part, but still a group...
  
  Zer has the ability to develop a soft spot for his people, contrary to popular belief. He might not talk a lot with them [if at all] or hang out with them during his free time, but dare to thread his people and he will show a rather protective side.
  It's also common in his Division to have dinner together.
  
  
• No time to play...
  
  During fights Zer ALWAYS stays professional. Not only does he stay level-headed [as explained above], but he is also one to quickly finish business and does his job with uttermost care.
  
  
• I know something you don't...
  
  Due to his background Zer is especially interested in knowledge. He is constantly seeking it as he knows just how powerful it can be and therefore pays attention to any kind of it - be it book smart [he is fluent in various languages, is familiar with scientific topics, psychology, theology and physiology] or street smart [able to handle problems quickly, react accordingly and make his own decisions based on the situations at hand].
  
  

• Negative Traits |

• Who are you..?
  
  If you are not part of Zer's group, or rather belong to his "close" [a "normal" person might not see it as close, but worlds apart] people then he does not care what happens to you. Even if you are on the same side as him, hope you do not need his help. There is minimal chance that he will safe your life or even notice your presence. Seireitei also beware. If he does not feel like fighting for it anymore he might just leave. A group or not - he usually does not create bonds.
  
  
• Tell me what it feels like...
  
  After a fight is over it might happen, if the opponent is still alive and Zer has enough time/no new orders, that he might experiment on them. Nothing too scientific, as he merely wants to see his opponents' facial expressions when feeling pain due to his own illness. Zer suffers from CIP [Congenital Insensitivity to Pain], which makes him unable to feel any form of physical pain, which makes him feel so numb from time to time that he cannot resist the urge to see what it would be like to feel pain. He does it to feel human, to feel connected with life, not because he is sadistic though, which is what people usually think.
  
  
• Even and odd...
  
  Zer has an absolute loathing towards even numbers and an unhealthy obsession with odd ones. It goes so far that he picks Divisions, ranks and even fights based on this. He would never join an even Division, would never take an even rank [he rather have the odd, lower rank than the higher even one] and he'd never make a fight even - even if it means that the person on his side has to fight alone against more opponents. Those numbers usually also have an influence on how he sees another person. For instance, in his Division there are no even seats - as he would never allow something so disgusting among his group. If a Shinigami is part of an even Division there is an even higher chance that he would not help them and/or ignore them completely = not even notice their presence. Only the 2nd Division captain is a tricky person. Kasumi, while being the captain of the worst number ever [2nd Division], she is also a number one [captain = 1st Seat].
  He has not yet decided if he loathes her or likes her.
  
  

• Habits |

• Odd numbers.
  He will make you notice it.
  
  
• Smoking... and more.
  When he is bored and/or too lazy to free his zanpakuto Zer likes to burn bothersome people with his cigarette.
  Does that count?
  He ONLY smokes cigarettes of the brand "Azazel", nothing else. Mind you, he is a very picky person. He carries those cigarettes in a personal, hand-made cigarette box. The box itself is a of a clean silver and measures 2" in wright and 2.8" in length. On the back of the box, in the right hand-side corner his actual name is written in a fine, straight font. The edges of the top of the box show tightly woven ornaments - appearing like vines crawling along the box. In the middle of the top part of the box a grotesque bunny head had been engraved. The head and skeletal form would remind you of a human head though it has long, standing up, bunny ears and sharp, fang-like, teeth.
  To light his cigarettes he always uses the same zippo. It too, is made out of a clear silver and on the front the number "1", in the old Roman style, is engraved.
  Cigarettes of the "Azazel" brand are 2 inches long and of a black color. The wright at the beginning is 0.4", but it slowly decreases towards the end [mouth part], which only measures 0.2". The last 0.4 inches of the cigarette are of a bright red color, contrasting with the black. On this part the brand name "Azazel" is written in a black, cursive font.
  
  
• Suits and suspenders.
  Even though it might not look like it Zer is very vain and only allows the finest garments to touch his body. His obsession with suits and suspenders had developed during the 30s - his favorite time if anybody would bother to ask him. During that time he was very often seen in the human world, enjoying the elegance of that timeline.
  
  
• Solitude and silence.
  Zer likes it because he is used to it, because it calms him. He does not like it because he wants to appear mysterious, or because there are important thoughts he has to go over - he just enjoys switching off, even if it is just for a moment.
  
  
• Cleanness.
  As he grew up in a dirty environment he cannot stand dirt. To him it is a sign of poverty and slavery, therefore expect him and his surroundings to be always uttermost clean.
  
  
• No even numbers.
  He will make you notice that even more.
  
  
• Nothing spicy.
  When he is hungry/starving he wants to eat. There is nothing worse than food bringing tears to your eyes and making your lips tickle annoyingly.
  
  
• No blue.
  There is no real reason why he dislikes it. He is just not really drawn to that color. Though he does not mind the darker, close to black, aspects of it that much.
  
  

• Fears | x
• Goals | x
• Overall Personality | See above.

[Der König]

---

HISTORY //
Tell me a tale... //

• Birthplace | Carinthia, Austria
• Mother | Anna Hobel
• Father | Alfred Hobel
• Siblings | He was a single child.
• Other Relations | Professors at the University of Vienna.
• Companion | x
• Overall history |

Walk on until you are numb.

---

And the world is tinted red.

The 17th century was certainly not the best time to be born – especially when the Thirty Years' War was still raging over all of Europe. Though neither death nor life could be stopped.

It was at the Southern part of the Kingdom of Austria, just where the border of Carinthia kissed Italy, where this story starts.

328 feet on the Karnische Alpen, 16 feet away from Hohe Warte was a small needle-tree forest. Pointed needles that were diamond shaped in cross section, attached to the twig with wooden pegs and whorled around the branch. Spruces. It was a spruce forest roughly 29 square-feet in size, fetched out in front of a stone cliff that reached 16 feet in height. At the Southern edge of the forest a small, wooden cottage was located, seemingly overlooking Carinthia. To the left of the cottage, a little stream was running slowly towards the Austrian province, as if it was fleeing from Italy.

It was late evening on a freezing November day, snow was falling on the already covered ground – like it was just too usual for this time of the year. The silhouettes of two men could hardly be made out in the darkness that had settled over the mountain, though it was obvious what their goal was.
The cottage.
Slowly the two men, one much taller than the other – though both above average, forced their way through he snow, which easily met their chests. It was certainly no weather to be outside, but today was different – the taller man, Alfred, had to fetch a doctor.
The baby was coming.

At times like these it was annoying that they had to live so far away from the small mountain village, though his wife's exotic looks were just too much trouble when trying to live in that village. Red hair... nobody accepted redheads. Alfred hurried his steps even more, the three layers of cloth and fur luckily sheltering from the biting cold. And the excitement... it was pushing him forward, pulling the doctor behind him to make them go even faster. They had to make it on time, they just had to.

Finally he could make out the light shining through the frozen windows of their small cottage. Candles have been set up and lit in front of them before he had made himself on his way – to make their home light up even brighter. Alfred tightened his grip on the other male's sleeve more and fasting his steps, forcing his way through the heavy snow with his tall body and determination – making it look easy.

Then they finally reached the two front stairs leading onto their porch, both things hidden by the snow, though by now Alfred knew where to place his feet and without slipping once they made it safely in front of the rough looking, wooden door. Once reached Alfred immediately pushed it open, his brown orbs instantly glancing over at the far right corner of their cottage, where the single bed of his wife was located. Before he could take in the sight of her sweaty body he already felt a poke in his side. Instinctively he made room for the doctor, who stepped into the cottage and immediately let his heavy, brown fur-coat slide onto the floor – Alfred following the gesture and letting his own slip down – the sudden heat would otherwise make them faint. His brown eyes followed the smaller man's back, who made his way over to the small counter, filling a pot with water which he then placed over the stove. It needed to be warm. All the time the doctor did not sent the woman on the bed a single glance. Of course not. Alfred huffed before stepping over to his wife with wide steps, with his size of 7'6” it took him only three to cross the room completely. Once he was next to her small bed he kneed down, glancing at her face as she gave him a meek smile and grabbed her hand softly between his large ones.

“I am here, my Love.” he said, his voice rough and deep. The woman's smile grew a little wider, before it disappeared behind a wince again. Even now, she was nothing but beautiful to his eyes. Her flaming red hair was glowing even more in the firelight, which tinted the whole room a soft orange. Her eyes, usually so pale, were striking... she was determined to fight for their child.

“It is going to be alright.” he murmured and held her hand just a little tighter as she gave him a nod, movement could finally be heard behind them again. The doctor had fetched the pot with the luke-warm water off the stove and was coming towards them, soft clothes draped over his right arm.

“Get out of the way, Alfred. You are useless here.” the doctor said harshly, his green eyes set onto the woman laying in so much pain. Immediately the tall man complied and hurried backwards, until his back connected with the wall. There he set in silence, knees pulled up to his chest and eyes fixed onto his wife, who was once more wincing in pain.
She was doing great.

“Anna.” he called her softly after the other man had laid down the clothes on the bed and placed the pot onto the floor, pulling her legs widely apart. “Anna.” Alfred called her again and finally she turned her head away from the doctor and settled her eyes onto her husband.

“It hurts.” she breathed out, a slight sob in her voice.
“I know.” he murmured before he swallowed heavily. He could not stand seeing her in so much pain.
The woman merely chuckled though, closing her dove-like eyes for a tiny moment to shake her head. “No you don't.” she corrected him amused before her eyebrows knitted together at another surge of pain.
Like always his wife had a point. He knew the pain his job brought with him, cutting wood was certainly not an easy task, and he knew the pain of burning himself... but giving birth?

“It is going to be alright.” he whispered again, though this time he did not know who he was trying to convince.

…

Two hours. He sat there for two hours, his bottom had turned numb after the first one already, before his wife gave a final shriek and then... then nothing could be heard beside her panting. Slowly Alfred said up straighter, his curious eyes fixed onto the doctor who held a tiny being against his chest, giving the thing a light slap on the back before... wailing. A baby was wailing. Alfred swallowed heavily watching the other man wrap it into the cloths before he finally acknowledged the husband in the room again.

“Congratulation.” the man said. “It is a boy.”

Alfred felt how a sob built up in the back of his throat and his eyes became teary. Then he quickly leaned his body forwards and crawled up to his wife's side, brushing over her sweaty forehead.

“Did you hear that, Anna? You presented us with a boy. A wonderful boy.”
Again she smiled up at him, though her eyes looked so tired – the light was gone from them. “Yes.” she said, her voice just above a whisper.
“What are we going to call him?”
“M...Michael.” [http://www.nordicnames.de/Aussprache.html < press the arrow next to the name Michael to get the accurate pronunciation.]
“Like the archangel?”
Her smile became larger as she nodded. “Yes.” she confirmed.
Alfred too, nodded, a silly smile spread over his lips. “Michael it is.”

Then he finally turned to the small bundle still located in the doctor's arms. “His name is Michael.” he told the man, forgetting that he had most likely heard them already. Though in this moment he could not act any different. He was so full of joy. “He is going to be a wonderful boy.”

“No.” the doctor answered, the man's old face holding a sneer.
Confused Alfred blinked. “Wh...why not? How can you say that? How dare you.” he said harshly, only calming once he felt his wife's gentle hand on his left lower arm.
“Alfred.” she said softly.
The doctor said nothing though, but pushed the tiny bundle into Alfred's arms which had opened immediately.

That was, when he saw it.

Red hair. His son too, had that cursed red hair.
Alfred's eyes closed tiredly, his expression showing utter defeat as he held the boy close to him.

Oh Lord, why were you testing us like that?

&&&

Going to school at these times was unthinkable. Michael sighed heavily as a pout formed on his lips. It was uncommon for a child at his age to want to go to school, but even though he was only seven he could think of nothing more exciting.
It was certainly better than working on the fields or helping in the forest.

Michael sighed again as he leaned forward, placing his head onto the palms of his hands – his elbows settled on his knees as he was sitting on the front porch to their cottage. It was summer and even though it was usually colder on the mountains it was still hot enough for him to wear a sleeveless shirt, which was hanging loosely over his brown pants. Both clothes made out of cheap linen, covered in holes and dirt. His family had no money to buy nicer clothes, nobody had money for anything anymore.

The young boy lifted his left arm, brushing his fingers under the brown cap, which sheltered his hair from view, and scratched his scalp. Yeah, the pout on his lips became even bigger, he had chosen the worst of times to be born.

“Michael!” he heard his father shout and immediately the boy sat up straighter. “Your break is over. Come back and help me.”

The boy nodded, unaware that nobody could see him anyway. “Of course, papa.” he chirped before jumping off the porch and running towards the tall man.

&&&

Michael sighed heavily as he grabbed the wooden handle of his saw even tighter before he continued to saw the tree trunk. He hated this job. He loathed this job. Though what else was there to do? By now the people were so poor that just the tiniest bite of food was a blessing. Almost nothing could be gained out of the harvest anymore and the little they had they had to share with their animals, otherwise those would become just too weak to survive.

Politics. Politics had them come this far down and then they called it the Lord's punishment. Why would he punish those who had nothing to begin with? Michael huffed as he directed all his frustration into his task. Church and politics. And of course, it was so easy to lead the stupid ones... the uneducated ones. No wonder they banned the schools, rather have the people work like mindless slaves on the fields. Europe was going down the drain, and he was right in the middle of it.

“Michael, my dear. You have been working all morning now.” he heard his mother say as the petite woman slowly walked towards him, attentive of the wood laying on the path. “You should take a break, my boy.”

Michael sighed once more, felt how the frustration left him as he let go of the rough handle and turned around to glance at his mother.
She was cursed like him.

“It's alright, mother.” he murmured, even with his tender ten years he already reached her shoulders. Size was the only thing he inherited from his father.

She shook her head while glancing at him worriedly. “You should not work yourself to death, Michael. We'll manage.” she said gently, but the boy only scoffed.

Manage? How did she think they'd manage?
Fights had broken out, because the hunger had become too much. Every village on the mountainside was on war-path with the other.
It had cost his father's life last year. Now they were alone – no... how did the woman intend to keep them alive if he was not working?
Now village liked to help the widow and her son and certainly no village wanted to do so when already suffering.
And helping those who looked like the devil? They had to work for their own now, could not trust anybody to help them.
His mother needed to wake up.

“I am not hungry.” he said as he turned around, not sparing a single glance for the basket she had brought along. “I will work until the sun is down. Maybe you can talk with the elders again.”

Though he was not sure if he really liked that. The elders... they were too much politics... were too much church. They already disliked his mother for her appearance, though had got used to her. They loathed him. He had heard them trying to convince her to drown him in the mountain lake.
Of course she had refused, still... putting those ideas into her head... he did worry what they might do with her.

“But Michael...” she started, trying to reach out and place a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“You should just leave.” the boy said again, his voice void of any emotion as he wrapped his fingers around the handle once more. “Besides, Peter will be over soon. He said he'll help me.”

He heard the woman sigh before she picked up the basket once more, turned around and left slowly.
Good.
Michael started with his task again.

He had said the truth, Peter really would come over soon. Though Peter was five and certainly of no help at all. The boy's parents also were not too fond of the idea of their little darling helping the redhead.

“Greetings, Michael.” he heard the small chirp behind him. “Greetings, Peter.” Michael muttered, not even turning around or sparing the small boy a glance. “What should I do?” the boy asked innocently while stepping to the bigger one's side, glancing up at the stern face. He liked helping Michael, because Michael was unique. In all his short life he had never seen anybody look like him.
Well, besides his mother... but he liked Michael more.

“Go and clean the forest ground. We'll need every wood we can get for this winter.” the taller boy muttered, though Peter ignored what was said, instead he continued to stare up at Michael's face until the bigger boy's crimson eyebrow started to twitch in annoyance. “What is it?” he muttered, still not glancing at the brown haired kid though.

“Why don't you ever put off your cap, Michael?” the boy asked curiously.
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because you are special.”
“Old farmers don't like special people. I rather leave the cap on.”
“But... but it looks so cool. And with the sun you look...look like a fireball.” The boy giggled. “You look like the sun, Michael.”
Finally the redhead stopped every movement completely and glanced down at the curious face peeking up at him. “You... you really think so?” he asked, a slight blush of embarrassment tinting his cheeks red.
The other boy nodded eagerly. “Of course I do!”
Michael could not help himself, but smile widely down at Peter. “Thank you.” he said happily, which the other answered with a nod of his head and an innocent smile of his own.

…

The two boys had been occupied for two hours, Peter cleaning the forest ground and Michael switching between saw and ax to cut down the trees, when they suddenly heard a pair of angry footsteps coming their way. Scarred Peter looked towards Michael, who had his eyes set into the distance as he placed down the tiny ax he used to chop off the branches from the trunk and stood up straight.

“Your father is coming, Peter.” Michael murmured and immediately the boy's soft green eyes lit up. He turned around quickly to glance at his father, though the wide smile was wiped off his face as he saw the man's angry march towards them.

“Fa...fath...?” Before Peter could finish his question though a loud slap rang through the forest, the tiny boy laying on the hard forest ground holding his burning cheek as tears rolled down his face.

“I... I am..”

“I told you... I ordered you not to help those kind of people.” the black haired man barked, his wild beard huffing as he spit out his words. “Especially not that devil brat.”

Michael shook his head as he jumped off the trunk, walking carelessly towards the tall man. “Now, now Martin.” he murmured. “Was that really necessary? It rather makes you look like the devil.”

Slap.
Michael could feel how his ears rang at the impact and his head snapped to his side, though the impact – nothing. Again he felt nothing, like so many times before. Therefore he merely blinked with bored, pale-orange eyes at the tall man, who looked even angrier at the lack of reaction to his slap.

“You son of a whore.”
Michael sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I can guarantee you that my mother is not a whore. Though you might want to watch out what your wife is doing in her freetime.”

A wild roar could be heard before a wide body slammed itself against his lean frame, throwing the boy against the forest floor as punches rained down on his body.

Ridiculous.

He could feel the touch of the other man's first, could feel how the warm blood was running out of his nose, over his bleeding lips and down his chin. Though nothing else. There was nothing.

Martin continued to let out his frustration until he was too tired to raise his first again, panting heavily he looked down at the boy's bored face. A ten-year-old should not wear such an expression and with that red hair, that was visible now that the cap had fallen off... too surreal, too wrong... the boy should never have been allowed to live. They should have sent him right back to hell.

Growling Martin showed his teeth, which contrasted with his black beard, while tightening his grip on the boy's throat – stealing his breath and for the first time he could see a flash of fear in the spawn's eyes. Good. Again the man growled as he picked up a wider branch, holding it like a hammer over his head. He'll free them all from this curse. Then, ignoring his son's shocked scream, did he bring it down on Michael's head, delighted once seeing the wide gash that appeared on the boy's forehead. Though he could hear nothing. The boy did not scream, did not cry... and the bored look was back. Did that devil not feel any kind of pain? Feeling once more frustrated Martin intended to bring the branch down once more, when his hand was suddenly gripped. Surprised he turned his head, looking up at the witch of all people.

“What do you want?” he spit out.
“You are hurting my son.” the woman said coldly, an angry glimmer in her own pale-orange eyes.
“Hurting? Hurting?” Martin asked, his voice mocking before he nodded down at the redhead. “Does he look like he is hurting? That freak.”
Anna's eyebrows knitted together in confusion before she too, looked down at Michael. A long gash was running down his forehead, bleeding heavily, nose and lips were bleeding too, purple bruises already appearing on his visible skin. Though those eyes... so detached, so careless...
What was this thing?

…

Michael growled as a second male came over, holding him down as he tried to kick the first guy in the chin with his right leg. His eyes glimmered angrily, his cap had fallen off long ago and a long tear was parting his shirt now. They had suddenly attacked, out of the blue. He had no clue why or how – they did not even look like people from the mountain. They looked like people from the city... smelled like people from the city.

Why... why were they here?
He punched a third man in the nose before his hand was held down by a forth.
Why was his mother just watching from the porch?

“Mo...Mother!” he called out as they bound his hands behind his back, two others minding his feet together. “Help me!”

"The elders decided." she murmured, her voice barely reaching his ears.

“We paid her a months income for you. She won't help you.” the first man said before lifting the lean body up and throwing him over his shoulder.

Wide-eyed Michael continued to look at his mother as they carried him away. “Mother!” he called out again.

Though nothing... calmly she looked at him... or was there a sign of distress on her face?
Though what did it change? She was not coming for him. She was not helping him.

Two.
The love of a mother was worth two Schilling.

---

[color:0e57="crimson"Knowledge is the key to the world.

As it turned out his mother had sold him to an university. University, such a strange name. It was a new trend in this century, or so he had been told - the gathering of knowledge.

And he was a specimen.

The boy sighed as he sat on his narrow bed, glancing at the row of books in front of him. It was not their main goal to kill him, what use would the university have for him then? No, they rather wanted to find out why he was unable to feel pain.
If he was honest with himself he wanted to know too... wanted to know a lot of things. In order to have full access to all that knowledge he had agreed to behave. At first they saw no real reason to make him behave in any way, though after the third attempted suicide they noticed it was better to keep the boy happy – if he was killed the by them it was alright, but not because he did not get the books he wanted.

He had read them all already though, had read everything the university had to offer down here, in this hidden cellar which had become his home in those last seven years.

Though he was becoming so tired of always seeing the same walls. Of the same layout. Of the same people.
No, his patience was running thin.

A small peekhole on his door was opened, the metal on metal leaving a horrible screeching noise running through the room. The boy did not bother reacting in any way.

“Specimen Rot. Come over.”

Rot... red... he could live with that. He had given up on the name Michael after his mother's betrayal anyway. At the age of ten... now he was seventeen and he had grown bored.
This university had nothing to offer for him anymore.

Silently he stood up, before turning on his heels and walking over to the door, which immediately opened – two soldiers on either side of him. No handcuffs. After the first four years they could not bother with those anymore.
The boy had never made any trouble at all.
Heh.

…

Rot sat down on his usual chair, it was made just for him. Everything in this room was made just for him and by now he had no trouble with that anymore. He crossed one leg over the other, seemingly enjoying the show... the show of him being taken apart again.

Any minute now they would start with their usual needle poking, their knives and any other tool they could find. At first he screamed at the image, the grotesque situation which was presented to his young eyes. But now... he was just so tired, so drained... so numb.

He could see they were too.
It was annoying them that they could not find out what was going on.
And even though Peter had once said he was unique, the books told him otherwise. They would find another specimen... and then they would cut out his brain.

He was rather fond of his brain.

No, he decided it was time to leave his free Holiday Inn and take a look at what the world had to offer.

&&&

Rot coughed heavily as he stumbled up the stone stairs, though before his face could hit the hard surface somebody caught him by his elbow. Specimen Aderlass. From what he could recall that man had been used for his blood.

“Come on.” The man murmured, also breathing heavily at the smoke that was filling the cellar. “We have to get out of here.” Another coughing fit in which Rot joined him.

Maybe setting a fire in a closed room had not been the wisest decision, but it sounded like fun back at the time.

Before the other man could completely pull him back onto his feet the man fell backwards, down the stairs. Rot huffed, before turning around and jumping down the stairs, landing next to the male. Immediately he pressed two of his fingers against the man's pulse. Though there was nothing.

Just great, he had wasted time on a a corpse.

Rot coughed into the palm of his right hand again before running up the steps. He had to hurry, the smoke would soon completely evolve him and then he'd take his last breath too.

The boy huffed as a small smile broke out on his face. Kinda funny, being killed by the thing that was supposed to save you.

Then, when he was finally up high enough, did he spot a window that was not closed by metal bars. Not caring how deep he would fall he ran towards it, the lack of air was becoming just too much. Besides... dying in this hole was by far worse than taking one last glance at the world before his lights were switched off.

He did not feel how the window gave room to his tall body, how the glass slid along his soft skin – the only thing that mattered to him was the bright light of the moon blinding him, the air of the flight whipping his long, crimson hair around him.

Freedom.

Then he was already surrounded by darkness once more and again he had trouble breathing.
Water.
He was lucky enough to land in water.
Immediately his instincts set in, his feet kicking at it while his hands flung around himself. As minimal as it was – it brought him upwards.

Soon enough he again took another gulp of air, enjoying how the coolness brushed his skin. He had to get away from the university though... and from that water. Rot spit out what little of the water that had managed to enter his mouth – the taste heavy on his tongue. Those fools probably had buried corpses far too close to the water.

Immediately he started to kick his legs again, slowly but surely coming close to the shore. Once he finally laid down on the ground, smelling the grass which tickled his nose, he shuddered slightly. Being all wet made him cold.
It was nice feeling something for once.

Still... that water.

Rot stood up quickly, before pulling off the white shirt and pants they had given him. Dirty water... it was healthier running around naked then being too much in contact with it.

Black Death.

He might not have experience with it, but any living being could feel it in the air, could feel Deaths cold grip reaching for them.

He had enough of Europe.

Politics causing wars. Church deciding your life. No new knowledge left. Death waiting around every corner.

He had to leave Europe.

---

Nothing to offer anymore.

For twenty years he had been traveling.
He had left Europe as fast as possible – heading for Turkey. He rather liked that country. It was so wide spread, so much culture, interesting history, so much more than anything he had read about so far. He had stayed five years in that country, longer than anywhere else during his life, sucking it dried of its wisdom.

It was also there, that he had come across the name Zeraphin.

The name was made for him, he decided out of the blue, without a valid reason.
Why should he have reasons for anything? He was not bound down by law or believes like so many others around him. He came and went as he pleased, took the things he wanted and left whatever was displeasing to him.
People had such a short life, and they wasted it on time and the opinion of others.
A horrible thing to live for.

Apollo, simply because of the tiny aspect in his life that believed in him. Peter. He sometimes wondered if the boy... man was still alive or if he also had succumbed to the weight of society. Or had he simply fit in? Stopping to believe in everything that was... unique?
The name... it did not stand for the sun, but for a child's view on life.

Rotbaron, even though the name did not suggest it, stood for knowledge. For the university that educated him while they thought he had offered something to them. In the end they were fools. People who worked with knowledge, forgetting just what a powerful weapon it was. Rotbaron... for he shall never cut his own flesh like they did.

He had died in Japan.
Next to Turkey he had enjoyed what this country had to offer the most, even though the people around him never were too fond of his appearance.
Though what did it matter to somebody who had become even numb to stares?

He had no energy to shrug anymore.
So was it, that Zeraphin lived by his own goals and died by his own goals.
Sitting down in a chair, looking out at the ocean – the wideness, the freedom, on a world that still had to offer so much but everybody was underestimating it. Maybe in his next life.
He closed his eyes.
And did not open them again.

---

See with your inner eye and you can find a whole new world.

As it turned out he had been wrong. He had opened his eyes once more, but he was not looking at the ocean anymore.

He was looking at trees. A huge group of trees.

How... interesting.

…

A whole new world indeed. It had taken Zeraphin all but five days to figure out that he was indeed dead and that this was just... a fresh start. Though he was not sure if he was overly fond of this one.
One part of it was poor and the other were soldiers. All parts had to fight daily, had to run from Death's cold fingers. What kind of world was this, that it only lived for fighting?

A world he did not know yet.

He found those so-called Shinigami on the tenth day. They were starring at him wide-eyed, with their swords drawn and pointing at him. Heh... as if he'd feel that.

Without saying a single word, he stepped in and joined their academy.

…

It had taken him three years to finish the Academy, much to the disbelieve of others. It was easy for him to decide which Division to join – as 13th connected both worlds. He could watch the path the living humans were walking on, while having full access to everything this world could offer him.

Yes and it was so easy with their portals. Ever so often he would drop in the human world, from time to time staying even longer. Indeed, it was certainly not making his captain happy, but what did it bother him? If the man did not want him any longer in his Divison he might as well kick him. Or imprison him? He went through that already too, nothing new there.

They could do what they wanted, he would continue to watch.

Strangely enough they treated him like a misbehaving brat and Zeraphin was not all too sure if he liked that.
They ignored him.
Not even when he stayed in the human world during their 30ties, unable to resists that wonderful era of new inventions and elegance, was he knocked out of his chair by them.

Strange creatures, those Shinigami.
So fond of their laws, so drawn into their believes.
Though like him, they valued knowledge.

He might stay for a little longer.

---

[Der König]

Additional Information

Theme Songs:

Theme: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLz61g0JLxQ

Shot in the Dark:

Fighting: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sco7GZOn1P8

Iron:

BackStory: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuhgWXg4rw4&ob=av2e

No Reflection:

---

CIP: Zer suffers from CIP [Congenital Insensitivity to Pain], which makes him unable to feel any form of physical pain.

[Ravilin Asura]

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