Rukongai

[Estarossa]

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Vice-Captain Aijo had never thought to ask where or how this Shinigami got this information and nor did he plan to ask. The less he knew the easier it would be to continue falsifying reports about the place to keep prying eyes off of it. Even after today he will tell no one of his experience here, Tenki and its secrets shall remain just that, a secret. Having risen to his feet in a rush after receiving a message that Shin’eki was under attack by the Onmitsukido Commander he jumped to the conclusion that the Shihōin were responsible, only to have that theory shot down immediately.

“No. The Shihōin have nothing to do with this experimentation business, as far as I know. They’re playing a different game, with different opponents. They’re trying to accomplish two things: one, quelling any possibility of rebellion. They’re doing a shit job at that. And two, they’re trying to figure out who’s helping the Shiba.”

”Trying to keep the status quo.”

While they may not be a present threat they will most certainly become an enemy down the line when the time comes to overthrow the greedy nobles. Otokogi wasn’t given much time to ponder who was aiding the Shiba before the Shinigami before him gave him the info he knew on the situation, or lack-there-of.

“And who that may be, I have no fucking idea. No one I know, knows, either. They’re moving in the shadows of that shithole you call home. But one thing I can say for sure...they’re not working for the Soul Society.”

This does not bode well, an unknown benefactor of the Shiba moving within the ranks of the Gotei Thirteen without being caught makes for a dangerous foe. Given the man’s tone the Vice-Captain knew that what was brewing was bigger than the impending civil war. This only served to upset the elder as so many things were happening in the shadows without their knowing. Everyone chasing false leads, being led astray from the truth while villains are able to make a mess of the Seireitei and more importantly the Rukongai. The time for detective work is over, the thought of bringing a suspect to justice with a fair trial can no longer happen. The corrupt will feed upon one another to bolster their own strength. As he steeled himself for the actions he must take he found himself in the barren wastes again.

“Keep your promise...Gentle Breeze.”

The voice of the Shinigami he met echoes on the breeze one last time, reminding him of his promise he made. The elder is not one to go back on a promise as his mind and heart are prepared to do what needs to be done to stop the Shiba and the nobles from harming the Rukongai any further. He rolls his shoulders back, leaning his neck from side to side letting out a satisfying *crack* each time. His posture is no longer that of an old man but more reminiscent of a healthy young man. He begins to draw his Zanpakuto from its sheath.

”Do not worry…”

His Reiatsu flares up, gravity becoming noticeably heavier in the area but not to a destructive or harmful level.

”... I plan to keep my promise to the absolute end.”

He leaps high into the sky, focusing himself on the direction he came from, where he had left, Shin’eki. He had a lot of land to cover and with Shunpo alone he may not make it in time, however this is no issue for the wise elder, no issue at all.

”Pull down the Heavens… Jūryokuhanten.”

His katana becomes encapsulated by a silver light as it then twists and contorts the very blade itself. The light “shatters” revealing a uniquely shaped dagger in place of the Katana. The man vanishes with Shunpo in Shin’eki’s direction, traveling above many various districts, districts he vowed to protect on this day. The Rukongai Citizen’s would then spread news about how the wind oddly shifted direction that day, a gentle breeze flowing towards the east violently shifted to the west almost as if it was against its will. The truth of this rumor lies solely with Otokogi, with the use of his Zanpakuto ability he can shift the direction of gravity to bolster his speed in a one way direction, that direction being Westward. The closer he got, the more he could sense, he sensed Shin’eki’s Reiatsu dip, he had taken damage. The Fourth Division Vice–Captain Reiatsu read as if she were on the offensive and lastly he sensed the Shihōin.

“Goodbye, little rat.”

The Gentle Breeze Arrives

The area would be overtaken by a massive rush of wind, the sound of it rushing past their ears would drown out the lullaby. Standing behind the Shihōin, shrouded in darkness, save for his eyes glowing with silver, was Otokogi Aijo. He stood there not as a Vice-Captain of the Gotei but as a protector of those who are oppressed by the strong. He stood there as the protector of the Rukongai. Shunpo is a marvelous technique, it aids in avoiding attacks, deceiving foes, striking at multiple angles, and defending at multiple angles. The more one trains at it the faster they become until their speed is second to none. Sadly, this Shihōin will find himself in a rather dire predicament.

Speed obeys Gravity.

Through the grace of gravity is he able to move the way he does, should this gravity increase or change direction his Shunpo becomes a detriment, a weapon against himself. The elder does not move, he stands in silence letting the furious wind speak for him and his arrival. Nearly one thousand years of combat experience is about to come bearing down on this noble, how will he fare? Will he survive to go run and tell his poorly constructed lie? If he does manage to slip away would he be able to find Otokogi again in the Rukongai? All of this remains to be seen, but one thing is certain, there is no avoiding a fight with the elder this time as his voice cuts through the wind.

”You could have lived an entire life where you never caught my attention. But now that I have my gaze fixed on you and your crimes against the Rukongai, your life has become forfeit.”

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[Aqua]

Few could face Hachi’s blade and live to tell the tale; a monster in his own right. The enemy before him seemed to be the front-runner of that few, his unique capabilities allowing him to seamlessly convert his body from solid to liquid on a whim. No matter how fast, how strong, or how precise, perhaps Hachi’s blade work simply wouldn’t be enough. As he cleaves downward, with immense strength, enough to cause the very air to howl at the swing of his blade–his enemy as projected is bisected into two. It hardly takes Hachi any time at all to deduce that while his intentions seemed to be brought to life, it was not under the circumstances that he had hoped. The large bipedal hollow creates a canyon-sized separation where Hachi’s strike was meant to meet with flesh, bone, and blood. In this gap, Hachi’s attack comes through, hitting.. Nothing. With a complete whiff, his sword is met with empty air as its finality causes an eruption of dust and wind to kick up in the area. The hollow itself, while originality split into two parts–two halves–seems to manifest a completion of its physical form for each half, creating two separate identical entities altogether.

The girl is dropped in response to this transformation, skipped like a rock on a pond down the dirt-pathed road and far away from the battle, assumingly unconscious–or at least he had hoped that was all. Now two hollows, or perhaps just two copies of one singular hollow stood before him. His battle-instinctive mind was racing in the infinitesimal moment that he and his enemy shared. If he had split in two, did his strength do so as well? Was he slower? Were his senses split between the two of them? The possibilities were endless, but there was much he did not know, but perhaps he could learn. Because of this, he made the rather easy choice to stick to what he did know. He recalled how the tendrils seemed to wither away as they were met with the heat and overall offensive power of his Kido spell, and perhaps the hollow’s entire body shared this composition, capable of being exposed by attacks of a similar type. Forget similar, he’d multiply the power which charred the tendrils away tenfold, and incinerate the hollow until there was nothing left!

The one hollow now turned two, springs into action. Still, they move as one, their actions and even possibly their thought process on the same accord with one goal in mind–To destroy the Third Seated Officer by any means possible. The winds are still picked up, his Reiatsu roaring in the form of powerful gusts that push outward from his person, deterring his enemies from moving at their fastest speeds. Still, their strikes are unimpeded. From the left and the right, mighty fists drive through with immense force, meeting each other at their target in the middle. Squelching is heard, a splash of liquid, the friction and feel of something caught between the two. Though they’d be mistaken to assume that the Reppuu could be quelled by something so meager. Those who knew Hachi, knew that he relished in uneven fights, and enjoyed them much more than singular combat against any given individual. They couldn’t yet see it, but a smile was present, from ear to ear–grateful for the opportunity to do battle, and becoming overwhelmingly euphoric as the odds were stacked against him. The squelching heard and the liquid present would not be the blasting of a Shinigami’s entrails or the spewing of his blood against the dirt. Instead, it was the sound of their own forceful strikes, meeting with each other’s fists, and converting them from their solid form to a liquid muck due to the impact. Where Hachi’s figure once stood, and perhaps even could still be seen, there was physically nothing. Simultaneously, a vortex begins to pick up around them, a large dust devil forming with the Hollows as its epicenter.

A keen eye would notice that this twister was not composed of wind, as streaks of brown black, and gold bled through the outer rim of the vortex. Hachi, moving at immeasurable speeds had created a barrier of himself with the Hollows enclosed within, and his speed only further increased, multiples of his form taking shape surrounding the enemy.

“Hado #31. . . Shakkaho.”
“Hado #31. . . Shakkaho.”
“Hado #31. . . Shakkaho.”
“Hado #31. . . Shakkaho.”
“Hado #31. . . Shakkaho.”
“Hado #31. . . Shakkaho.”
“Hado #31. . . Shakkaho.”

Echoes of the Kido spell’s incantation consume the locale, the only sound heard within the decrepit village. The voices stack atop each other and seemingly repeat an endless amount of times as the former darkness of the enclosed circle is illuminated by a vibrant crimson. With the girl in the hollow’s hand, Hachi was incapable of fighting how he’d usually preferred–forced to use decisiveness and hold back in fear for her life. With her at least momentarily out of the picture, he can disintegrate his foe without remorse, and make short work of the adversary before him.

A barrage of the Kido spell is released from nearly every angle of the surrounding vortex, all with the same trajectory of meeting at its center point, and destroying the Hollow. Multiple orbs of crimson fire press forward relentlessly, the entire village now clad in a hue of scarlet.

As the entire flock of fireballs meets in the middle, a massive plume of incinerating energy is present where the two copies of the one hollow would still be processing what was made of their attempt to smash Hachi to pieces. Nearly every angle was covered, and moving horizontally with any effort to dodge would be a failure. Even more so, a vertical escape route was not remotely an option, as the red pillar ascended into the sky for those both close and distant to see. If Hachi was successful, the hollow–both of its forms–would become nothing more than a puddle of its own muck, just before it is reduced to ash completely.

 

[Hachikō Goseikanjo]

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Plummeting down into the fray at just the right moment, The crazed Lieutenant met Commander Toshiyuki’s incursion against Shin’eki with the simultaneous force of Chishinishi. Both Shinigami were considered powerhouses of speed and stealth in their own rights and by all accounts, the likelihood of them ever confronting one another like this under normal circumstances was remote to say the least. Under the impression that her interference had opened a window for him, Rusty reacted instantly and made his move to abscond with the incapacitated witness. Alas, as fate would have it, there was no denying that in terms of mastery over one’s Zanjutsu that Hachiko Goseikanjo fell short in this instance. Both he and she had tragically acted too late against an unheard and unseen strike of the Shihoin which resulted in the fourth seat losing not one but both of his arms wherever he ended up after attempting to flash away from the bloody barrage.

Without a doubt, that was a complication but Hachiko was not one to crumble so easily in the face of defeat. The collateral damage of her subject aside, for a moment she was sure that her clones had done away with Toshiyuki's as they did disperse once the spikes of rigid blood pierced through them. Not only this, she had been certain that she had located the true Commander and her syringe’s needle had dug into its target but, to her internal dismay, the fluttering remains of a cloak replacing him confirmed that he’d utilized Utsusemi. When she took the man’s overall grade and stature into consideration, the Vice-Captain theorized that having such an advanced ability in his arsenal was possible and when she cast her gaze into the direction of where her Reikaku discerned he would reappear that theory was proven to be correct.

“Hahahaha! If it isn’t the little gremlin! Welcome, to your grave, you disgusting rat.”

Upon sighting the slippery Shihoin, Lieutenant Goseikanjo endured two sharp pains and the last thing that she would hear was the briefest of samples that was a single note of the Commander’s murky lullaby. The telling gleam at the tip of Toshiyuki’s finger, commenced Crackling, snapping and finally roaring. The scream of the lightning of the Raikaho shattered the atmosphere as it careened towards her. The brilliant eruption of utter incineration followed and burned the view of the Vice-Captain away from anyone who would have witnessed its voltaic majesty.

““...where do you think you’re going…Goodbye, little rat.”

In a strange turn of events, The Shihoin could see white undershirt which belonged to an annoyingly familiar Shinigami. Toshiyuki’s Scimitar had lashed out in order to eliminate the fifth’s fourth seat but contrary to the Commander’s premeditation, it had not impaled the young Shin’eki. Instead, the empty air itself took the brunt of the attack and time itself seemed to stand still as the blurred image of The on the move Lieutenant manifested with her red claws latched tightly onto the incapacitated witness and remainder of Uemura’s torso. Together, they Shunpo’d to another rooftop out of immediate harm.

Much to the elation of the physician, it seemed that there had been some confusion.
It wouldn't have been far-fetched for Hachiko’s gaze to catch a delicious expression of bewilderment on Toshiyuki’s formerly smug face. With all of his being he must have been under the impression that playing his cursed melody for her had diminished her to the point that she was unable to properly maneuver in a way that would allow her to escape his carnival of lightning much less take a page out of his own book and utilized Utsusemi in the same way that he had done previously to be able to evade her. Yet, there she was soaring past him with his would-be victims in tow.
By all accounts, The Commander of the Omnitsukido’s Shikai was undeniably formidable as its song was overtly treacherous to all but what she had deciphered so far was that its intoxicating influence relied on its somber sonnet being heard.
Heavily experienced in century long battles, Vice-Captain Goseikanjo had trained herself to perceive the slightest of peculiarities as well as differentials in the enemy’s performance. For example, the introduction of an eerie refrain triggered instantaneous preventative action on Hachiko’s part so much so that she came to the immediate conclusion that the adversary’s sound was meant to be listened to. With the aid of a secondary aspect of Chishinishi’s Shikai effect by needling herself twice she stripped herself of her own sense of hearing and opted to rely on her remaining senses alternatively. It was a nasty little trick that had seasoned the Lieutenant to be more than capable of operating without certain sensory faculties at her disposal. This meant that she had not heard enough of his song for it to stop her from not only avoiding the Shihoin Commander’s Hado but also allowed her to narrowly rescue Uemura as well as the witness from his untimely demise.

”You could have lived an entire life where you never caught my attention. But now that I have my gaze fixed on you and your crimes against the Rukongai, your life has become forfeit.”

Although Ha had willingly underestimated her opponent and very well could have overestimated herself, it looked like he had done the same. In addition to this, the Shihoin would find himself in a dangerous predicament with the abrupt arrival of Vice-Captain Otokogi Aijo. He brought with him awesome raging whirlwinds that drowned out the ballad and prevented Shin’eki as well as himself from falling victim to its lull moving forward. If that were not enough, it seemed that in the department of actual raw Shunpo, Hachiko Goseikanjo surpassed the very Commander of the Omnitsukido such that a telling stain of red had spread out on his chest serving as another indication to her that Chishinishi had made a direct hit. Threads of blood instantly gushed into existence and extended out from his open wounds to attach to Shin’eki’s severed limbs with their ruby strings. When this happened, Toshiyuki would feel a significant drain on his blood, stamina and his Reiryoku as she would be using his blood to clean up the mess that he had made by slicing them off in the first place. The crimson twine pulled Uemura’s arms back to the gashes, effectively stitching them back onto his body and putting a stop to the emptying of his lifeforce. Granted, he would be alive and no longer dismembered but he would be woozy and weak.

“Bout’ time you showed up, old man.”
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[Kuvello]

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Listen and Read

Standing atop the rooftop, taking in the scene of the two powerhouses exchanging blows, a sudden ringing would begin to emit from behind him, his senses of hearing picking up what sounded like a piano… no bells…. perhaps a xylophone? Regardless, upon hearing the soothing and otherwise comforting song play, Shin’eki would find his reiryoku begin to simmer from the previous boil it had found itself within, as his eyes began to become heavy. The sensation was far too out of place to have not been the result of the opponent’s trickery. However, the Shinigami would find himself dropping down to a single knee as his shoulders became indescribably cold. The freeze seemingly crawled up into his clavicle and breast as the sudden realization that the weight he had encumbered had been instantaneously relieved. The seated office would look down, his eyes widened from shock as the realization of his arms fell to the thatched roof around him. All sound would be drowned out from his current mental state. His zanpakuto clasped tightly within his severed appendage, as the world began to accelerate at a pace that was far too fast for his mind to comprehend while battling off the shock of having his arms removed from his person, as well as the sudden wave of uncontrollable drowsiness that overwhelmed him.

His body fell limp periodically as he fought for control of his consciousness. Within his inner world Shin’eki would notice his arms blurred, almost as if static from the situation that was occurring outside of himself. The grasp within Seimitsugensui’s hands fell through as there became nothing to hold onto. Suddenly, the sudden shift in the atmosphere would alert Shin’eki to his conscious self, the fading visage of the Elder Shinigami looming over the Shihoin’s figure drew out a raspy breath from Shin’eki.

”Oto…..san”

His voice betrays him halfway through his phrased sentiment as he found himself within the sanguine-clawed grasp of Hachiko, as she carried both his limp body, as well as the civilian whom, had been through hell in back in a single day. The sensation of ice encroaching further and further into the very core of his being, his legs numb from shock. Suddenly unbeknownst to Shin’eki’s awareness, threads of crimson would begin their tedious work, as his arms began to become sewn back onto their places. Muscle reconnecting muscle, tendons with tendons, bones to their sockets, vessels to vessels, as his flesh began to seal the once severed areas. Warmth began to course through his shoulders again, as the sensation of feeling began to recalibrate within his arms and hands. The tips of his fingers, still ice cold for the moment.

A slight smile would cross his face as his world became black, his message of disparity had summoned forth his greatest wishes, for now, that was good enough. For now, the rest of this fight would be left up to them, and despite all odds, he had successfully survived his encounter with a Third Class Spirit. Shin was hopeful the man would survive this ordeal, though despite his best efforts such a thing as being an aid for these two Vice-Captains was now far from question, and despite his best efforts, ultimately, he had failed to protect anyone on this day. Within Shin’eki’s inner world, his unconscious figure would remain motionless, ensnared within his zanpakuto’s figure, almost as if cocooned as the boy’s face remained exposed from within the Zanpakuto Spirit’s chiseled abs. Shin’s consciousness fading away as his very being drifted deeper and deeper.

​

 

[admins]

Listen While You Read

First, the rat that Toshiyuki swore he’d impaled vanished, leaving his sharp blade to puncture nothing more than disturbed air. Second, sudden turbulence struck at the area, an unforeseen helix of wind that pushed against the Shihoin’s will.

To the front his gaze fell upon the blurred form of the Vice-Captain of the Fourth, his bleeding prey, and the prized suspect, within her clutches. To his back, the familiar presence of a Soul known by all sang with fervor, speaking the Old Man’s anger for all to hear, accompanied by his raspy and deathly-serious voice.

How disappointing.

Before the Onmitsukido Commander could speak, he felt the blood within his veins rush to concentrate around the prick of wound dealt to him by the Crazed Doctor, and from it, a twisting stream of his life essence splurted forth, draining his spiritual energy alongside, twisting and twining out to reach the unconscious boy, sewing his arms back together in a grotesque display of patchwork medicine. Quite revolting.

As the winds passed and died, the tune of his lullaby returned to sound within the ears and minds of those present. It seemed the fallen Goseikanjo had found a way to drown out the power of his Shikai permanently, for he could tell that her faculties had not faltered one bit. Impressive, and yet inconsequential.

The rat of a Fourth Seat, on the other hand, could not say the same as he neared the peak of a deep and unshakeable slumber.

Within the Commander’s free hand, a small vial came to be, the red liquid taken in one shot with a gulp. Whatever it might have been, its effects acted quickly, as the stream of blood that once drained from his wound shortened and shortened, returning from its origin, until it dried out completely. To those observing, it seemed his wound had sealed.

The Shihoin sighed.

“No more blood,” the noble stated matter-of-factly. “Such a disgusting power, Soul-King be witness. And as for you, Vice-Captain Aijo,” he redirected the conversation, turning his head to look back over his shoulder. “Where exactly did you come from, throwing such salacious accusations at that? I’d have thought you wiser.”

He raised his Scimitar, pointing it at Hachiko. “That abomination has massacred an entire village within the Forty-Eighth, did you know that? I suppose you’re not going to believe me, due to your prejudice against us nobles. But last I checked, that was a crime, one I’d be more than happy to corroborate with the Tsunayashiro’s Visual Surveillance Department.”

All the while, the lullaby continued to play, the Old Man not exempt from its authority. His faculties would begin to falter, albeit slowly, breath by breath, movement by moment, until he too fell into an unbreakable sleep.

“Are you going to help me arrest her, or not?”​

 

[admins]

Throughout the life of the Soul Society, there existed a handful of Souls whose feats of speed would be so great, so as to forever etch themselves in the pages of history. Every generation hosted new prodigies of the Shinigami Arts, and for the Art of Hoho, this generation knew two.

Hachi Ikimaku, held the title of Wind-Walker, no truer moniker given to another Soul. Such that when the two identical Hollows’ fists collided, and the vortex of miraculous winds picked up to encase the two creatures within a twister, they were none the wiser.

The meteor shower of crimson fireballs rained down upon the two unsuspecting Hollows, even before the words of its origin echoed through the world; for you see, Third Seat Ikimaku’s speed exceeded that which the world could distinguish, throttled to the point that it needed to catch up to the Shinigami’s actions.

The ceaseless barrage continued, their explosive power working to fuel the fire of an already blazing pillar of flame, until it reached its peak far beyond the clouds of heaven.

When the fires doused, all that was left was black char and dust; no Hollows, no life, nothing but cratered, burned earth.

With his enemy defeated, maybe now the Third Seat would sense the fleeting life-force of the young girl, who had been flung by his winds a ways away deep into the village. She was still alive, but for how long?​

 

[Estarossa]

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As wrathful as Otokogi was, he was not one to be blinded by it, to make moves that would be unbecoming of him. He was still very much calm and calculated in his actions despite how things may appear outwardly. He knew nothing about the Commander's abilities aside from his speed, everything else such as Kido, Hakuda, Zanjutsu and Zanpakuto he knew nothing about. What he could surmise from appearances alone is that his Shikai was already released. Given the unique shape and Reiatsu it was giving off. Another obvious tell was the music he heard in the air once the wind had stopped blowing. This old man played detective to get this far in determining who his enemies truly were and now that same mindset shall be applied to battle. The young commander, young from Otokogi’s perspective, began speaking leisurely as if all was in his control. The old man watched him pull out a vial and made no move in reaction to it, only observing and determining the effects of this Shikai. His vision was a bit shaky while observing the vial and the first clue struck him, it was obstructing his senses. He twitches his finger, a subtle movement but enough to determine a second thing, something that overwrites the first hypothesis, it is obstructing his motor functions.

This Shikai was weakening him with the song, what would happen if it were to fully take hold over him? Too many unknowns, too much time already wasted and he will not waste another second.

Falling

Before his arrival he was determining his course of action and how he would be able to fight without jeopardizing the citizens, luckily for him the citizens are no fools. Due to the outlandish display of fighting put on by Hachiko and the Commander, the citizens were quick to hide in their homes or any buildings that would welcome them to hide. This was favorable for the old man as he could manipulate Gravity without fear of sending a random citizen flying off, they will be safe in their buildings. The Commander will now learn what it means to fight on a true battlefield, where condescending attitudes are the first to get cut down, where those who play instead of fight are the first killed.

“Such a disgusting power, Soul-King be witness. And as for you, Vice-Captain Aijo, where exactly did you come from, throwing-”

”Bankai.”

The equilibrium of both Hachiko and the Commander would be thrown off in a horrific way as the old man became enveloped in a silver light, his Reiatsu bursting at the seams. They would then experience a phenomenon they would never forget, they began to fall sideways. The ground their feet had been planted now seemed like the face of a cliff. Instincts would call to them to reach out for anything to grab ahold of to prevent themselves from falling. Should they look up they would see Otokogi still standing on the ground as if nothing had changed and from his perspective this would be true.

Otokogi has become the center of Reverse Gravity.

All things fall away from him, trying to approach him is like trying to leap into the sky itself, the closer he approaches the further they are repelled. A massive sword that stands at the same height as him, at 6’1” (1.84 Meters), is then stabbed into the ground, this is the shape his Zanpakuto has now taken in its Bankai state.

What the old man does next is shocking, but not surprising. Using his middle finger on each hand he jabs them into his ears, rupturing his eardrums and deafening himself to the lullaby. His bloodied right hand grips his Zanpakuto as he then uses Shunpo to dash towards the Onmitsukido Commander. Mid-Shunpo he swings his blade that seemingly flies past the Commander followed by a gale of wind that would chill his entire body to the bone. Did the old man miss? Perhaps he did given the fact he may have struck his semicircular canals attempting to deafen himself. Or perhaps there was another ability to this Bankai that is not known to him or maybe it was something else entirely. It has been centuries since the Otokogi last called upon his Bankai, too long for anyone to currently know what it is or how it functions. What will happen now?

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[Aqua]

As the dust settles, only through the kicked-up debris can you see the crimson hue of an open palm slowly fading back to its normal melanin. Like the chamber of a smoking gun, his hand exudes the heat of the several fireballs released from his person, as smoke and dust meld in the air to create a thick and almost toxic atmosphere. A blackened crater replaces the village’s center, as every piece of the hollow and its duplicate were reduced to indistinguishable ash devoid of shape or form. The updraft seemed to quell, the twister settling as its source had reduced its velocity and now stood completely still. Although he figured he’d need it again soon, he felt it wise to place his Zanpakuto back into its scabbard–at the very least for the time being. He throws the large weapon over his shoulder like a beggar and his sack, before turning away from the scene of his previous battle without thought or emotion. It was fun, though short-lived. Its final moments brought euphoria to his front door but seemed to only leave a gentle knock. He was unsatiated, and bored with the outcome. To him, this was no victory–in fact, it was hardly anything.


With the hollow in his rear-view, the girl once again becomes the focus of his journey, while the situation as a whole continues to create pause due to none of his questions yet being answered by his presence here. With the ease with which the hollow was taken down, that thing couldn’t remotely have been the cause of all of this chaos, all of this destruction. Panic? Sure, but there's no possible way that a small battalion of Omnitsukido Agents couldn’t have accomplished what Hachi himself just did in mere moments. Just where was that missing agent, anyway? Among the bodies seen far and wide not a single one fit that description. The trees in the distant outskirts of the village ominously sway in the breeze, the howling wind singing a song of sorrow as the fires slowly fade. Above it all–however–is the faint and muffled groans of the girl. The instant her noises–perceived as a cry for help–are heard, Hachi is already upon her. His hands, now free, pry the small amount of debris from atop her rather fragile body. Her spirit is slipping, flickering like the flame of a dying candle before his eyes. Shit. Shit Shit. Shit.

He grumbles to himself under his breath, her eyes attempting to open at the sound of his voice. He holds her upper half in an elevated fashion in an attempt to perhaps help her circulation all while swaddling her like a newborn. How strange that a being capable of so much destruction could also be so gentle.

“Come on Lil’ mama. Look at me, open up! Stay with me!”

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what more he could do. There was no panic in his tone, but rather false hope in the form of encouragement and positivity. He shook her rather firmly while he spoke; like a defibrillator trying to jolt her to life again. Could he realistically possibly transport her to the 4th division? It was possible, but he’d leave any other possible survivors here to die if he did that, without discovering anything about what actually happened or was still happening here in his home. Even still, it was possible that the 4th Division medics would completely refuse her treatment, or that the journey there would be too rigorous and she’d die from her wounds before he even made it. His options were slim, so he does his best to apply comfort where he can.

“Tell me what happened, how bout’ that? Who did this? Hmn’?”

“Hmn?!”

There is a bit of frustration in his second outburst, upset that due to her weakness, she was not responding immediately. Or, perhaps, she may not get to respond at all. She was the only survivor of whatever happened here, and without her he had nothing. Beyond that, should she take her last breath in his arms, he’d prefer to know who he had to blame, and in response, who he would punish.

 

[admins]

Listen While You Read

With the Hollow threat eliminated, Hachi Ikimaku’s expression shifted to one of concern as he is remembered of the child by her labored wheezing, as it is carried to his ears by the smoke-filled winds sweeping across the doomed village. He was upon her within her same troubled breath; on his knees, he held the girl upright in his arms, cradling her like the helpless child she was, witnessing an innocent life fade away.

He attempted to console her, for he too knew there was not much he could do for her. A question escaped his lips, to which no answer came; every laborious breath became more unsettling than the last, the life within her dilated eyes fading.

“...c…”

Too quiet to hear, even for the Wind-Walker. He leaned in; she wheezed.

“...c…”

Again, too quiet, and not much. She wheezed, he got closer.

“...cap…”

She was on her last breaths, he could tell. What a fighter, this little child.

“...captain…”

It was the last thing he heard, and her last breath. Lifeless eyes wide open, the last of her existence escaped through her agape mouth.

The crackling of burning wood was all that surrounded Hachi, until a voice spoke up from behind him; the source had come unseen, both physically and spiritually.

“Poor thing,” the male voice said, his sincerity clear. When Hachi glanced back, he’d find an Onmitsukido Operative standing behind him, some distance away. His body language spoke of someone who hadn’t come for a fight, whose intentions weren’t to kill. He shook his head, words remorseful. “This needs to stop…”

Was this the Onmitsukido agent reported missing?

“...he needs to be stopped.”​

 

[Aqua]

For a man who had witnessed as much as he—one would think that the pill of death had become easier to swallow. It had not. The permanence of death, while welcomed by him, was hard to witness when it befell an innocent. He holds the young girl close, his grasp tight; perhaps too tight. He begs, no; he demands answers. Answers for who was responsible for destroying his home, for plunging it back into the deluge of darkness that it was submerged in for so long before. This offense was egregious, and unacceptable, and shall not go without punishment as long as he breathed. He leans inward, pausing his own heightened voice to try and hear her raspy, breathy tone over the sound of wood separating at the seams beneath depleted flames.
​

“...c…”​

Inaudible, imperceptible—his frustration grows as he leans a bit closer, his grip digging its firmness into her shoulders.
​

“...c…”​

Huh? At this point He’d get nowhere, this was his only chance.
​

“...cap…”​

The light one could only see in the eyes of a soul begins to fade, dimming, as her words are still just barely coherent. Her weight begins to sink even more, as if she is giving her body away to something else, leaving it to descend into the grime and ash.
​

“...captain…”​

Captain.. wait.. Captain?! The last bit of fight the girl has left dissolves into nothing, as she comes to terms with the short-lived peace of her final moments. The light of her pupils fades, and a paleness already starts to wash over her as her mouth and eyes are both left ajar. In her last breath, one could almost see her spirit float into the wind, carried by a school of leaves into the forest beyond the village’s boundaries. Had a Captain done this? A Gotei 13 Captain? Of what division?—No. that doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter who it was, or strong they were. They had to pay, they just had to. What was the aim here? Even though he had been nearly blinded by rage, Hachi struggled to make sense of what had happened here and why. Why this district? Why here? Was he himself a target? Was there someone who willfully wanted to incur his wrath? There were too many pieces for a man of his caliber to put together, his head a scrambled mess as his fingers rise to close the girl’s mouth and eyes.
​

“Poor thing.”​

Hachi gently rises up from his somewhat knelt position, delicately placing the girl onto the ground in a comfortable position—as if she could still feel comfort. He is not startled or taken aback by the voice. His nostrils flair like that of a canine that has already dialed in on a scent. The individual themselves were concealed physically and spiritually, not even disturbing the wind itself which Hachi would have also perceived. He did, however, carry the smell of conflict. Of what kind, Hachi was unsure but he believe his instinct to be true all the same. What was also clear, even before turning to face the specter that had crept up behind him—was his intentions and their lack of malice. Perhaps that was one of the many reasons that the stranger was allowed to get so close.
​

“This needs to stop…”​

Hachi peers over his shoulder just to vaguely perceive the Omnitsukido agent’s silhouette, and without actually addressing him, appears to have lent his ear to what the agent had to say.
​

“…He needs to be stopped.”​

The pattering of Hachi’s straw geta slightly disturbs the dirt as he pivots his body to face the individual before him. Yuushi rests gently on his shoulder, the grip on its tsuka both violent and unyielding.​

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"Who is he? and who are you?"


​

---

His tone exuded determination; a no-bullshit type of bass radiates at the base of his throat. He has already come to the conclusion from the attire as well as his stealthy approach—that this individual was quite possibly the missing Omnitsukido agent. But what part that missing agent played in all of this was a mystery, and as such, Hachi would hold his cards close to his chest and pretend to be as unassuming and ignorant as possible.