Division Member Profiles

Long ago, when Yamato was young, Yamato was not much different than most normal children. He did not, at first, have any sort of love or interest in the game of chess. He was in fact, a hyper young mind ready to live and learn just like any other. In a world where the average every day person his age was running around and playing, he was astonished to find that there could ever be anyone, young or old, who could stay still for so long, staring directly at a blank board with no pictures and just a few pieces on them, equally as plain. What was the point? What is the rhyme, the reason? It frustrated Yamato to no end, and facinated him as well.

So there he was, a young Yamato eager and curious, walking over to try and figure out just what it was that was going on between the two older gentlemen playing this mysterious game. He began to say something but was quickly silenced by the man ont he left with a curt Shh and a raised flat hand. "Do not speak during a gmae of chess!" the man warned, quickly retreating his hand and placing it back on one of the pieces on the board. Obvioiusly, Yamato was offended. How dare this man, who did not know him and who he didn't know offend him so? He was only curious as to what it was that they were playing that was keeping them so still, there was no need to be so blatantly rude about it! And what was chess anyways? What was this highly respected game that it demanded silence from all watching? And then the man moved one of this pieces, there was no way of knowing at the time what it was and where it had moved, and then the man uttered one word very clearly: "Checkmate."

The man opposite of his opponent stood, bowed, and walked away silently, defeated, knowing he was defeated. Why? To what purpose? Was it not bad to have been beaten at a game, did pure humility have to be shown as well? Yamato turned back to the other man, who was placing the pieces back into their original position. "Wondering how it's played?" he asked wihtout looking at Yamato. Yamato looked, glared, at the man and silently nodded. The man, still not looking at Yamato, bid him sit down with a wave of his hand. Yamato did as he was told and sat where the other man had said. Then the man spoke to Yamato, and the following words would stay with him for the rest of his life: "This game, this lifestyle, is all about the king." As he said this, he picked up a single piece and held it gingerly, almost delicately, between his fingers. "To win the game, you must conqure your opponent's king, defend your own king, defend yourself. Becuase when you play chess, you are the king. You have ultimate power over every piece on the board, and if you make your moves right, your opponents' too."

What could it be, this ultimate power he spoke of? The power of imagination, of cunning, of a king? What did it all mean? Yamato didn't know, but he silently nodded his understanding, getting the picture clear enough. There was so very much to learn, and Yamato yet understood so little. Day after day, Yamato came back to sit and talk and play with the old chess master, learning the game little by little, gaiing knowlege and wisdom along the way. Chess was not the only lesson he was taught by the old chess master. He learned of books, movies, events, history, language, countless lessons and countless things from his newly made friend. Yamato came to visit the old man for years after that, each and every day if at all possible. No matter the weather, no matter the holiday, if Yamato was in the area, he would visit the old man. But he never learned his name. He said, "Names are for people that you're supposed to know and trust and understand. I'm just your teacher, and the last time I checked, teachers and students are supposed to stay just that: teachers and students." So very wise was the old man, that at one point Yamato asspired to be exactly like him.

Then one day, he was gone. Vanished, not to be seen ever again. Yamato was nineteen when he disappeared, still young enough to madeningly ponder over the question: why? Where was he? Why hadn't he given Yamato a sign as to what was happening? He went back day after day, hoping to find a sign of his old friend but, he was never seen again. Not long after that, Yamato became sickly. He soon became terminally ill and was diagnossed with a very serious form of cancer, unique to Yamato apparently. Eventually, he was moved into a hospital until further notice, but he asked his relatives to check on the old man every chance that they got, so as that Yamato could ask him why he had disappeared and kick his ass if he was feeling well enough. But weeks turned into months, and he never came back. Yamato became sicker and sicker, and before long he knew that he was beyond saving. Was this the life that the old man had preached of? This, ultimate power a king was supposed to have over his subjects? he didn't feel very majestic, that was for sure. So what, this was the end then? The final chapted into was was to be his career as a king? Lying in a hospital bed, sick and hopeless? It wasn't fair, it just wasn't fair. And as Yamato passed on from this life unto the next, it was with thoughts of his old chess master that his head was crowded with.

But it wasn't the end. As Yamato died, he was reborn into the Soul Society. Not really remembering his life, only that he had died of cancer and that he had once had an ancient teacher who taught him all about the wonders of life, he knew that he had a purpose that had not been fullfilled in life, to be a king. And so he quickly learned of the "games" that the dead played and of the soul society and it's nature. He aspired to be as powerful as he posibly could be in this new way of existing. And in his aspiring, his training, his careful calculations and planning, he found that it all made him very hungry, and that was a good sign. When at last he discovered his strength, he decided to help pave the way with it for all others who were like him in seeking power and so helped create the Shinigami Training Academy and later the Gotei XIII, where he became the first captain of the first division. Other captains would soon follow his lead...