Breathe. Inhale. Exhale. [Sol/Open?]

'Inhale. Exhale.'

These two words seemed to dominate the thoughts of the shirtless tattoo'd young man training within the Seventh division barracks. His eyes closed he slowly moved his body, his arms following practiced movements which could only be acquainted to Katas. Moving in a perfect circle he would thrust his arms out in jabs, counter rotations, and the occasional kick performed at a slow manner. The saying often went practice makes perfect, but in truth it was perfect practice makes perfection. In his months away Solhammond had learned much from the Suika people, growing not only stronger physically but mentally.

The hazy cloud which seemed to dominate his thoughts where instead replaced with a defined purpose. To flow through life like water, act and bid as he saw fit. He had died, but not by any mistake of his own. He had been granted the blessing of children, two beautiful kids whom he could see himself in. He was a shinigami now, and a father, and in order to provide a good life for those he loved he would need to pursue a path of martial excellence. Once he fought for survival, now he lives to fight.

His grey-green irises opened as a small smile came upon his lips, the long hair he possessed had been secured by a band near his neck. As it moved against the wind he brought his feet together, placing his fist within a straight fingered hand. Once more he took a deep breath standing tall, before exhaling. His tattooed arms moving apart as a wide smile adorned his face. Up until now, no one had disturbed the new recruit of the Seventh- but then again he was always good at minimizing his presence.