Akiyama Akito 秋山秋翔
SHINIGAMI
4th Seat 4th Division
Personnel File
Age: 30ish
Birthday: April
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: European
Physical Specifications
Height and Weight: 188 cm and 85 kg
Eyes: Blue grey
Hair: White
General Appearance:
Tall with fair skin and enigmatic eyes Akito could be handsome if it wasn’t for his somber look and ramshackle appearance. Seemingly exhausted by everyone and everything his perpetual state of disrepair is reflected in his unkempt hair, often covering one eye or another, the rings beneath his eyes, pale lips and a slight slouch when walking. Moving slowly, but deliberately, and blessed with excellent tactile sensitivity Akito is an expert when it comes to acupressure and acupuncture.
Unfortunately, the state of his uniform does little to alleviate his shortcomings with an obi that is rarely properly adjusted and a kosode that could stand being tied more tightly (and tidily). With an arm tucked into the opening and a dark kimono with floral patterns over his uniform the untrained eye could mistake him for a melancholic poet, when he is actually just trying to work as little as possible.
Akito’s Reiatsu feels calm and soothing, like a compassionate stranger that invites you to share a cup and moment. Grey in color, somewhere between smoke and fog, it appears to drift away, carried by a most whimsical wind.
Distinguishing features:
Psychological Profile
Akito exists as a living contradiction, shaped profoundly by family expectations, personal failures and unresolved guilt. Publicly, he presents himself as indifferent and lackadaisical, consistently underperforming and disappointing colleagues with his habitual procrastination and apparent aversion to responsibility. Behind this carefully constructed facade of laziness, however, lies a conflicted man driven by deep-rooted feelings of inadequacy, fear and quiet desperation.
Raised as the middle child of the noble Akiyama family, Akito's sense of self-worth suffered beneath the shadows cast by his two exceptional sisters: one an accomplished Shinigami rapidly rising through the ranks of the Gotei, and the other a successful career politician whose ambition required Akito’s own reluctant enlistment. His forced role as a soldier, dictated by family politics rather than personal ambition, instilled in him profound resentment and alienation, fueling his passive rebellion against the expectations thrust upon him.
Adding to these familial tensions is the lingering guilt over the death of a seated officer under his care - an event Akito quietly regards as his ultimate failure. Whether the result of indecision, error, or simple inadequacy, this incident intensified his self-doubt, convincing him that commitment inevitably leads to disappointment and loss. As a result, he consciously avoids situations where others might rely heavily upon him, further entrenching his persona of indifference and inefficiency.
Yet paradoxically, beneath the layers of avoidance and feigned apathy lies a subtle but powerful desire to prove himself—to his family, his peers, but above all, to himself. Quietly desperate to justify his existence, Akito reveals this yearning in the attentive care for his patients or through rare displays of courage and unexpectedly decisive action - leaving others both surprised and bewildered.
In private moments Akito seeks solace in the philosophy of Wabi-sabi, appreciating life's imperfections and impermanence through his rituals: bitter tea, sweet mochi, and slow-burning tobacco. These quiet, introspective moments offer a fleeting notion of peace.
While respected professionally for his skills genuine friendships elude him—his perpetual cycle of self-sabotage, guilt, and withdrawal making true connections rare and tenuous.
Neither a born killer nor someone who trained to enjoy it Akito seeks to end engagements quickly and decisively. Unlike many of his colleagues in the Fourth he does not rely on Kido, but good old close quarter combat.
Zanpakutō File
Zanpakutō Spirit: 酔生夢死 – Suisei Mushi (Drunken Life, Dreaming Death)
Suisei Mushi appears beneath a sky that never changes, seated in silence under a perpetually blooming cherry blossom tree, whose leaves are ever falling. She embodies Wabi-Sabi—dignified yet imperfect, faded yet enduring. Her form is that of a graceful woman wrapped in a layered kimono of soft whites and ashen greys, patterned delicately with Japanese maple leaves. Her beauty is that of things well-used, things remembered—quiet, patient, and mournful.
Her face is calm, unjudging, and almost unbearably soft. Long strands of black-grey hair spill down her back, only loosely bound with a fraying ribbon. Most striking are her eyes—or rather, the silvered sutures that keep them shut. Though she sees with perfect clarity, they have never opened. Her head tilts gently when listening, her gaze always aligned, as though she perceives not through sight but through memory, emotion, and the quiet currents of Akito’s heart.
From her waist hangs a suturing needle, rusted not from neglect, but from use and reverence, like a charm, swaying slightly when she moves. In one sleeve, she cradles a chipped porcelain tea cup mended with veins of golden lacquer—kintsugi, the art of repairing with beauty.
Her sleeves are long and her gestures deliberate, like movements remembered from an old ritual. Bare feet touch the surface of still water as though it were stone, leaving no ripples.
Her voice is low, smooth, and devastatingly kind—carrying truths Akito has long tried to avoid.
She never scolds. She never demands. But she waits. Always, she waits.
And every time their conversation ends, she bows her head slightly, and says only:
“Itterasshai.”
Inner World
Akito’s Inner World takes the form of a vast and endless ocean, perfectly still on the surface and soothingly cool to the touch. At its center stands a single cherry blossom tree—delicate, yet unwavering—its petals drifting gently across the water without ever sinking. The ocean glows beneath a night sky filled with stars, each one brilliant and distant, casting silver light across the waves.
But beneath the clarity of the water lies a deeper truth: an inky blackness that pulses softly from below, neither malevolent nor inert—just… waiting. It is this quiet, unsettling depth that Akito chooses to ignore, preferring instead to tilt his gaze upward toward the stars, seeking comfort in their light and the illusion of infinite peace.
The tree never fades. The stars never fall. The dark never rises.
This world endures—like he does—one breath at a time.
Sealed Zanpakutō
Suisei Mushi takes the shape of a tantou and is more akin to a dagger than a sword. The saya is black lacquered wood, the tsuka silver silk wrapped over black leather, and the tsuba a metallic octagon reminiscent of a taoist bagua trigram. The menuki and kashira both take the shape of stylized petals.
Where a katana and a wakizashi are predominantly made for slashing, a tantou is intended for stabbing. Fitting for a man with Akito’s skillset.
Shikai Appearance
"Odore, Suisei Mushi" 踊れ酔生夢死 – Suisei Mushi (Dance! Drunken Life, Dreaming Death)
Upon release the tantou dissolves into glowing threads that coil around his arms and fingers—like translucent sutures made of mist and spirit energy.
Shikai Abilities:
Suisei Mushi allows Akito to perceive the fine network of meridians existent in all beings. By injecting spiritual energy he is able to lessen, worsen or even cause wounds.
Bankai Appearance
酔生夢死の幽玄 Suisei Mushi no Yūgen (The Subtle Grace of Drunken Life and Dreaming Death)
Documented History
Prologue
Being the middle child in the distinguished yet demanding Akiyama family meant Akito grew up comfortably overshadowed by his sisters' brilliance—something he accepted with minimal resistance and mild amusement. His older sister swiftly climbed through the ranks of the Gotei, celebrated as a model Shinigami known for her discipline, skill, and effortless grace. Meanwhile, his younger sister carved out a formidable political career, quickly becoming influential within noble circles—and inadvertently determining Akito’s path as well.
From a young age, he realized that family expectations were a burden best managed by keeping his head down and expectations moderate. Akito embraced mediocrity not out of genuine inability, but strategic calculation: doing "just enough" became both his defense mechanism and personal philosophy. It was perhaps poetic justice that, despite his careful avoidance of attention, he was thrust into the spotlight precisely because he was expendable enough to balance out the family’s political image. His reluctant entry into the Shinigami Academy wasn't fueled by heroic aspirations or noble duty—it was a family decision, a political maneuver, one he often jokes about (but never fully forgives).
At the academy, Akito carefully maintained his status quo of “acceptable”—never exceptional, never failing, deftly navigating between pride and practicality. He made a small name for himself as the laid-back cadet with uncanny medical intuition—much to his own chagrin—and graduated quietly, fully expecting a comfortable placement somewhere conveniently unremarkable.
Relevant Background
Much to his quiet annoyance, Akito’s lazy epicurean lifestyle faced its first significant disruption when an overzealous instructor—apparently mistaking indifference for latent genius—recommended advanced medical training for him. Before he could properly voice his objections, Akito found himself firmly placed within the Fourth Division, a place where he could, at least initially, continue to sip tea and stitch wounds in relative peace.
Life in the Fourth for him was exactly what he wanted: calm routines, low stakes, and plenty of opportunities for gentle mockery from colleagues who knew his preference for quiet indulgence over heroics. But, unfortunately, peace rarely lasts in Soul Society. Pulled unwillingly into a particularly dangerous mission, Akito found himself overwhelmed, facing a frantic battlefield surgery that ended tragically: a beloved seated officer died under his care. To this day, Akito himself remains unsure whether it was due to his own critical error, simple inadequacy, or the sheer severity of the officer’s wounds—but the guilt haunts him nonetheless.
From that day forward, Akito carried two permanent reminders: a physical scar on his palm, inflicted when he desperately clasped the officer’s sword, promising to fulfill a dying wish; and an invisible scar on his soul, deepening his fears and reinforcing his determination to avoid responsibility at all costs.
For a brief moment afterward, Akito contemplated stepping away entirely from active duty, retreating into quiet exile. But fate had other plans. The Black Death spread relentlessly, the Hollow pandemic intensified, and the burdens of duty became impossible to escape. The death of yet another superior—this time his direct commander—propelled Akito reluctantly upwards, forcing him into the role of Fourth Seat, where he now struggles daily between stubborn resistance and reluctant responsibility.
He openly jokes and groans that he’d rather be staring into the sky, ankle-deep in cool spring water with hot tea in his hands, but privately he cannot shake the haunting echoes of those who suffer under his watch.
Despite his persistent attempts at avoiding attention and conflict, Akito increasingly finds himself drawn into the heart of crisis—compelled by conscience, haunted by guilt, and quietly hoping someone more qualified might finally relieve him of his burden. Until then, he'll grudgingly do what he's always done: just enough, while shielding his heart in an armor of indifference.
SHINIGAMI
4th Seat 4th Division
Personnel File
Age: 30ish
Birthday: April
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: European
Physical Specifications
Height and Weight: 188 cm and 85 kg
Eyes: Blue grey
Hair: White
General Appearance:
Tall with fair skin and enigmatic eyes Akito could be handsome if it wasn’t for his somber look and ramshackle appearance. Seemingly exhausted by everyone and everything his perpetual state of disrepair is reflected in his unkempt hair, often covering one eye or another, the rings beneath his eyes, pale lips and a slight slouch when walking. Moving slowly, but deliberately, and blessed with excellent tactile sensitivity Akito is an expert when it comes to acupressure and acupuncture.
Unfortunately, the state of his uniform does little to alleviate his shortcomings with an obi that is rarely properly adjusted and a kosode that could stand being tied more tightly (and tidily). With an arm tucked into the opening and a dark kimono with floral patterns over his uniform the untrained eye could mistake him for a melancholic poet, when he is actually just trying to work as little as possible.
Akito’s Reiatsu feels calm and soothing, like a compassionate stranger that invites you to share a cup and moment. Grey in color, somewhere between smoke and fog, it appears to drift away, carried by a most whimsical wind.
Distinguishing features:
- Smells like a mix of tobacco and bitter tea leaves
- Floral kimonos atop his uniform
- A scar in his left palm
Psychological Profile
Akito exists as a living contradiction, shaped profoundly by family expectations, personal failures and unresolved guilt. Publicly, he presents himself as indifferent and lackadaisical, consistently underperforming and disappointing colleagues with his habitual procrastination and apparent aversion to responsibility. Behind this carefully constructed facade of laziness, however, lies a conflicted man driven by deep-rooted feelings of inadequacy, fear and quiet desperation.
Raised as the middle child of the noble Akiyama family, Akito's sense of self-worth suffered beneath the shadows cast by his two exceptional sisters: one an accomplished Shinigami rapidly rising through the ranks of the Gotei, and the other a successful career politician whose ambition required Akito’s own reluctant enlistment. His forced role as a soldier, dictated by family politics rather than personal ambition, instilled in him profound resentment and alienation, fueling his passive rebellion against the expectations thrust upon him.
Adding to these familial tensions is the lingering guilt over the death of a seated officer under his care - an event Akito quietly regards as his ultimate failure. Whether the result of indecision, error, or simple inadequacy, this incident intensified his self-doubt, convincing him that commitment inevitably leads to disappointment and loss. As a result, he consciously avoids situations where others might rely heavily upon him, further entrenching his persona of indifference and inefficiency.
Yet paradoxically, beneath the layers of avoidance and feigned apathy lies a subtle but powerful desire to prove himself—to his family, his peers, but above all, to himself. Quietly desperate to justify his existence, Akito reveals this yearning in the attentive care for his patients or through rare displays of courage and unexpectedly decisive action - leaving others both surprised and bewildered.
In private moments Akito seeks solace in the philosophy of Wabi-sabi, appreciating life's imperfections and impermanence through his rituals: bitter tea, sweet mochi, and slow-burning tobacco. These quiet, introspective moments offer a fleeting notion of peace.
While respected professionally for his skills genuine friendships elude him—his perpetual cycle of self-sabotage, guilt, and withdrawal making true connections rare and tenuous.
Neither a born killer nor someone who trained to enjoy it Akito seeks to end engagements quickly and decisively. Unlike many of his colleagues in the Fourth he does not rely on Kido, but good old close quarter combat.
Zanpakutō File
Zanpakutō Spirit: 酔生夢死 – Suisei Mushi (Drunken Life, Dreaming Death)
Suisei Mushi appears beneath a sky that never changes, seated in silence under a perpetually blooming cherry blossom tree, whose leaves are ever falling. She embodies Wabi-Sabi—dignified yet imperfect, faded yet enduring. Her form is that of a graceful woman wrapped in a layered kimono of soft whites and ashen greys, patterned delicately with Japanese maple leaves. Her beauty is that of things well-used, things remembered—quiet, patient, and mournful.
Her face is calm, unjudging, and almost unbearably soft. Long strands of black-grey hair spill down her back, only loosely bound with a fraying ribbon. Most striking are her eyes—or rather, the silvered sutures that keep them shut. Though she sees with perfect clarity, they have never opened. Her head tilts gently when listening, her gaze always aligned, as though she perceives not through sight but through memory, emotion, and the quiet currents of Akito’s heart.
From her waist hangs a suturing needle, rusted not from neglect, but from use and reverence, like a charm, swaying slightly when she moves. In one sleeve, she cradles a chipped porcelain tea cup mended with veins of golden lacquer—kintsugi, the art of repairing with beauty.
Her sleeves are long and her gestures deliberate, like movements remembered from an old ritual. Bare feet touch the surface of still water as though it were stone, leaving no ripples.
Her voice is low, smooth, and devastatingly kind—carrying truths Akito has long tried to avoid.
She never scolds. She never demands. But she waits. Always, she waits.
And every time their conversation ends, she bows her head slightly, and says only:
“Itterasshai.”
Inner World
Akito’s Inner World takes the form of a vast and endless ocean, perfectly still on the surface and soothingly cool to the touch. At its center stands a single cherry blossom tree—delicate, yet unwavering—its petals drifting gently across the water without ever sinking. The ocean glows beneath a night sky filled with stars, each one brilliant and distant, casting silver light across the waves.
But beneath the clarity of the water lies a deeper truth: an inky blackness that pulses softly from below, neither malevolent nor inert—just… waiting. It is this quiet, unsettling depth that Akito chooses to ignore, preferring instead to tilt his gaze upward toward the stars, seeking comfort in their light and the illusion of infinite peace.
The tree never fades. The stars never fall. The dark never rises.
This world endures—like he does—one breath at a time.
Sealed Zanpakutō
Suisei Mushi takes the shape of a tantou and is more akin to a dagger than a sword. The saya is black lacquered wood, the tsuka silver silk wrapped over black leather, and the tsuba a metallic octagon reminiscent of a taoist bagua trigram. The menuki and kashira both take the shape of stylized petals.
Where a katana and a wakizashi are predominantly made for slashing, a tantou is intended for stabbing. Fitting for a man with Akito’s skillset.
Shikai Appearance
"Odore, Suisei Mushi" 踊れ酔生夢死 – Suisei Mushi (Dance! Drunken Life, Dreaming Death)
Upon release the tantou dissolves into glowing threads that coil around his arms and fingers—like translucent sutures made of mist and spirit energy.
Shikai Abilities:
Suisei Mushi allows Akito to perceive the fine network of meridians existent in all beings. By injecting spiritual energy he is able to lessen, worsen or even cause wounds.
Bankai Appearance
酔生夢死の幽玄 Suisei Mushi no Yūgen (The Subtle Grace of Drunken Life and Dreaming Death)
Documented History
Prologue
Being the middle child in the distinguished yet demanding Akiyama family meant Akito grew up comfortably overshadowed by his sisters' brilliance—something he accepted with minimal resistance and mild amusement. His older sister swiftly climbed through the ranks of the Gotei, celebrated as a model Shinigami known for her discipline, skill, and effortless grace. Meanwhile, his younger sister carved out a formidable political career, quickly becoming influential within noble circles—and inadvertently determining Akito’s path as well.
From a young age, he realized that family expectations were a burden best managed by keeping his head down and expectations moderate. Akito embraced mediocrity not out of genuine inability, but strategic calculation: doing "just enough" became both his defense mechanism and personal philosophy. It was perhaps poetic justice that, despite his careful avoidance of attention, he was thrust into the spotlight precisely because he was expendable enough to balance out the family’s political image. His reluctant entry into the Shinigami Academy wasn't fueled by heroic aspirations or noble duty—it was a family decision, a political maneuver, one he often jokes about (but never fully forgives).
At the academy, Akito carefully maintained his status quo of “acceptable”—never exceptional, never failing, deftly navigating between pride and practicality. He made a small name for himself as the laid-back cadet with uncanny medical intuition—much to his own chagrin—and graduated quietly, fully expecting a comfortable placement somewhere conveniently unremarkable.
Relevant Background
Much to his quiet annoyance, Akito’s lazy epicurean lifestyle faced its first significant disruption when an overzealous instructor—apparently mistaking indifference for latent genius—recommended advanced medical training for him. Before he could properly voice his objections, Akito found himself firmly placed within the Fourth Division, a place where he could, at least initially, continue to sip tea and stitch wounds in relative peace.
Life in the Fourth for him was exactly what he wanted: calm routines, low stakes, and plenty of opportunities for gentle mockery from colleagues who knew his preference for quiet indulgence over heroics. But, unfortunately, peace rarely lasts in Soul Society. Pulled unwillingly into a particularly dangerous mission, Akito found himself overwhelmed, facing a frantic battlefield surgery that ended tragically: a beloved seated officer died under his care. To this day, Akito himself remains unsure whether it was due to his own critical error, simple inadequacy, or the sheer severity of the officer’s wounds—but the guilt haunts him nonetheless.
From that day forward, Akito carried two permanent reminders: a physical scar on his palm, inflicted when he desperately clasped the officer’s sword, promising to fulfill a dying wish; and an invisible scar on his soul, deepening his fears and reinforcing his determination to avoid responsibility at all costs.
For a brief moment afterward, Akito contemplated stepping away entirely from active duty, retreating into quiet exile. But fate had other plans. The Black Death spread relentlessly, the Hollow pandemic intensified, and the burdens of duty became impossible to escape. The death of yet another superior—this time his direct commander—propelled Akito reluctantly upwards, forcing him into the role of Fourth Seat, where he now struggles daily between stubborn resistance and reluctant responsibility.
He openly jokes and groans that he’d rather be staring into the sky, ankle-deep in cool spring water with hot tea in his hands, but privately he cannot shake the haunting echoes of those who suffer under his watch.
Despite his persistent attempts at avoiding attention and conflict, Akito increasingly finds himself drawn into the heart of crisis—compelled by conscience, haunted by guilt, and quietly hoping someone more qualified might finally relieve him of his burden. Until then, he'll grudgingly do what he's always done: just enough, while shielding his heart in an armor of indifference.
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