Dammit, you moron! Why do I bother talking to you when you're as fucking deaf as a block of wood? We both somehow know that you're one of the only people who could stand against my strength and not become merged with their blade. Even if yours is somewhere back behind the edges of reason in that pathetic excuse of what you call a brain.

Not as pathetic as some of your fellow shinigami think, though. Just amazingly dense when it comes to anything outside your division and the philosophy and life you've created from that. At least in your sleep when you're reliving battles that you have fought, you aren't trying to beat the hell out of me. And somehow, in spite of the odds, right before you wake up, something manages to get through that amazingly dense reiatsu and thick skull of yours.

So, my dear shinigami, as I can see the sky lightening with a gold that looks disturbingly like your reiatsu, I will leave you with today's wake up call.

IF YOU COULD FREAKING HEAR ME SCREAMING LIKE THIS WHEN YOU'RE AWAKE, I WOULDN'T HAVE TO DO THINGS LIKE THIS! THAT, YOU OVERGROWN MORON, IS WHY I DON'T TELL YOU MY NAME. BECAUSE EVERY TIME I DID YOU NEVER HEARD IT AND I GOT SICK AND FUCKING TIRED OF REPEATING MYSELF.

But that isn't going to change soon, is it? Not when your inner world is so crammed with past battles, former adversaries, and shouts of advice and encouragement from the people around you that you aren't even aware I'm speaking. But what is the point to me still talking. You are awake now, and I am just another piece of metal that you feel the need to impale people with.

Still, one day, you may eventually realize I am your sword, your zanpakuto, and not your freaking alarm clock!