Rukongai

[Adonai]

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“The Gentle Breeze of Tamaya, we meet again… and after so long, all you’ve got to give is a plea for help?”

Otokogi remains silent as he only looks forward at the person before him with the silence between them permeating the room. The chastising tone of the woman speaking only managed to seal the elders lips, exchanging words with such a person will get him nowhere. However, he remains quiet and allows the woman to continue speaking.

“Why would he help you, Vice-Captain? It seems the Seireitei is keen on remaining in its petulant state.”

The old man notices his position in the room has changed, letting out a curious ”Hmm…” upon noticing. Given the nature of his Zanpakuto things such as orientation and direction are easily noticed by the old man as manipulating those two concepts play a role in his Zanpakuto ability. More interested in the shifting of the room he takes his eyes off of the woman before him who continues to taunt him with her words. Does he believe that the woman poses no danger to him or does he believe himself to be so strong that he doesn’t need to pay her any mind? Both are false as he is putting together an old tale he heard about this place long ago and what he is experiencing right now is lining up perfectly with those old rumors.

“What have you done during all your time at your station? One could argue you’ve been an abetter to the Soul Society’s struggles…”

He returns his attention to the woman, now sensing her Reiryoku and this intrigues him even more as he strokes his beard. Spirit Class 4, that is noticeably high for a random Rukongai soul and for it to go unnoticed by the Gotei Thirteen is odd as well. Considering the previous Third Division Captain’s treatment of the Rukongai and how the Gotei is more so busy fighting itself in the shadows it would be fairly easy for such a person to slip under the radar, especially with help from someone with illusionary abilities. Thus far her words have also found no ground to make the elder feel distressed, to feel any sort of guilt or burden for not being able to help the people of the Rukongai.

“So tell me, why should he answer your questions?”

Otokogi clears his throat and finally replies to the woman before him.

”Because I come here as Otokogi of Tamaya, not as the Vice-Captain of Third. The things I have done were all in an attempt to find the root of all the trouble and pull it out at the roots. If you know me, you know I will never choose violence unless I was given no other choice… Sadly, it feels as if my options are running thin.”

He glances around the cabin for no other reason but to take a pause from speaking to gather his thoughts. His hands come together again, fingers interlocking and thumbs tapping against one another.

”I do not wish to involve the people of Rukongai in the affairs of the Gotei Thirteen, however, it seems like the negative parties that have poisoned it are taking their affairs out to the Rukongai and onto the people.”

While speaking he continued to look about the room and by the end of the sentence his gaze returned to the table his hands rested on. How much of what he was seeing was real? Was this truly a table before him or just a wooden barrel? How many others are in this room with him and where could they be hiding? Are the dimensions of this room true as they appear or is this room more vast than he is able to see? These alarming questions do not show themselves on the elders face or in his body language. He lifts his eyes to look upon the woman before him or is this even a woman at all? Perhaps she too is an illusion.

”I have falsified many documents concerning the state of the Rukongai over the years. It was an attempt to keep Shinigami out of or away from certain districts, districts like yours that are relatively peaceful and do not need my kind poking around. I do what I can so more people do not have to live the life I lived or a life similar to my Third Seat, I’m sure you have heard of him and know his story.”

The old man then places both hands on the table as he stands up, then proceeds to walk around to the side of the table. He lowers himself to his knees, places both hands on the ground in front of himself and lowers his head. This Vice-Captain bows before someone in the Rukongai, something that no one in the Gotei Thirteen would ever think of doing. The people of the Rukongai deserve respect as there exist beings that predate the Seireitei, beings who hold strength and sway over the Rukongai that the Gotei could never hope to have.

”I bow my head out of respect to him and all he has done to keep this district safe. And I promise to him and his people, on my title as The Gentle Breeze of Tamaya, once I have my answers…”

A brief pause was placed in his words as his own Reiryoku could be felt in the room, Spirit Class Grade 2. Not only this but the tone of his voice changed, no longer speaking like a caring elderly man. His voice became a bit more gravely, more menacing, a tone that befits a warrior of his age and experience.

”I will take proper action against those responsible.”

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[Kuvello]

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Listen While You Read

”Bravo! You’ve made quite the mess haven’t you?”



A male’s voice would sound behind a barrage of rhythmic claps, clearly meant to sarcastically congratulate the approaching officer. While the voice was vaguely familiar, it was the man’s visage that rang bells in the red-haired boy’s head. The man who stood before him was none other than Toshiyuki Shihōin, the Commander and Chief of the Onmitsukido,as well as a current member of Second Division. If it weren’t for his blatant display of sarcasm, and sadistic tone, Shin’eki may’ve snapped to attention and have bowed before the man’s presence, however, with the events transpiring currently, and situation he and the other vice-captains found themselves in, it was clear the man before them had some ulterior motive. Afterall, why even go so bold as to make his presence know, why not have killed him, if not the other two when he could’ve so easily when nobody else would’ve been the wiser, and label it as three heroes who met their unfortunate, and untimely demise at the hands of an unknown force, that was hollow-like in nature. From the pit of Shin’eki’s gut, this interpersonal exchange was not only unbecoming of someone with the stature of Second Division Leadership, but also foretold Shin’eki that because he’d come across him, in broad daylight for that matter, it could only mean the Shihoin meant to kill him, here and now.



”“Well, if it isn’t the Prince’s little pet. I’ve been hearing troubling news, little rat…I’ve heard that little gremlin of a Vice-Captain did some terrible things out in the Forty-Eighth, and that you aided her…in committing some atrocious crimes. To make matters worse, the Old Man of Third was involved as well? Tsk, tsk, tsk.”



Every cell in Shin’eki’s body was telling him to run, but at what cost? He was a captain, no less his speed far outclassed Shin’eki’s in every self-conceivable way. Hiding would do no better, for how could he if he couldn’t escape the man’s grasp. As far as playing cat and mouse went, this was more on a level of mouse vs cheetah, even on a bad day. Shin would have to continue to waiver his logic over the enemy, as it was perhaps the only thing that could potentially put them on a better playing ground. Diplomacy would have to take place alongside defensive maneuvers, and having the only living alibi on his person, would only tip the scale in the Commander’s favor. Clenching his grip onto the man’s kamon, an audible tightening of fabric could be heard as Shin’eki motioned for his Shihakusho.



“What do you have there, little rat? A captive? I wonder what information he has to offer? You’re under arrest, Fourth Seat of Fifth, Shin’eki Uemura, for the murder of innocent Rukongai citizens, and for involvement in illegal Hollow-Shinigami experimentation. Lay down the body, and surrender your Zanpakuto. If you don’t cooperate…I’ll be sure to give you a swift death.”



Shin’s eyes never for a moment waived from the dead set stare into the Shihoin’s visage. His mind racing, internal alarms sounded within his very being. Was he really going to die here? Was it really responsible of the vice captains to burden a lower-ranked member of the Gotei with such a hefty duty, regardless of Shin’s steadfast devotion. It would be that very same devotion that caused him to remain as level-headed as he was in such a high tension situation as this. His thoughts were organized, this information needed to get sent out to everyone if possible, but such luxuries were all but compatible in this current state. With his Hell Butterfly, remaining in contact with Shin’eki during the entire exchange, as well as gathering its current location through Shin’eki’s internal dialog of acknowledgement of the whereabouts he should be given the triangulation of his current location within the Thirty-Second District of the Western Rukongai, Hokusei Kawa. Shin’eki would remain silent as the butterfly was displaced onto the very suspect, as Shin’eki would haphazardly cast the man to the ground beneath him, hoping to successfully camouflage/conceal the deployment of his personal Jigokuchō, it’s desired recipient, anyone considerable enough to lend aid to the Fourth Seated Officer, most notably Otokogi-sensei. Details of the transaction between the Captain and Shin, as well as the events up to this point save unimportant details, were also prescribed within the Butterfly should it be unable to locate the Vice-Captain of 3rd in time. Seeing as now would be the time for it, and given the safe distance from Shin’eki the butterfly would be as it would have left the vicinity of Shin’eki’s reiryoku and reiatsu by the time the man had stopped monologuing, as pretentious nobles tended to do, Shin’eki, after a long day, would Finally unsheath his blade. His Reiryoku and reiatsu roaring to life, as the man to his side, began to generate an all too familiar shell of rust upon his flesh.



”The fact you haven’t made your move prior to revealing yourself to me, was your first mistake, Shihoin-Sōshireikan. I take it you’d have me silenced forever before you arrest me? Or were you finished playing good cop?”

Shin’eki’s invisible reiatsu appeared as heat waves rising from his visage. His aura flaring unbeknownst to the Commander’s visual senses. Gripping his zanpakuto tightly, Shin’eki’s loose fitting garments would begin to ripple and flap vehemently with the sudden release of his artificially created shackle, his sword’s saya. Unfortunately, Shin’eki was unable to keep his promise of protecting the Rukon Citizen from harm now, as the best salvation for the man now was a swift and painless release, as the rust now covered the man, leaving only a rust statue in Shin’eki’s wake. Tears began to form at the creases of his eyes, as the tears escaped his eyelids, they’d be swept away and evaporated within the torrent of reiatsu that was seemingly constantly releasing from Shin’eki, the ground around him rusting outward in a circumference that was ever growing.

Perhaps the man would still be alive in the cocoon of rust, perhaps his vitals would slow so that he was able to be rejuvenated in the future, however, such things couldn’t be certain depending on how long Shin’eki would have to hold out until help arrived, if he even could hold a flame to the captain before him.

”What say you, Seimitsugensui, shall we go all out in an effort to protect Seireitei, as well as the citizens of Rukongai?”​

 

[admins]

Listen While You Read

Shin’eki Uemura

Shin’eki’s ploy to play messenger – a foolish one at that – went noticed, for the Commander-in-Chief of the Onmitsukido saw all; through the physical, through the spiritual, through the intellectual. Such that when the hell butterfly manifested, and went about its business, it had long since been foreseen, and appropriate actions taken. To Commander Shihoin, the Seated Officer’s actions communicated the decision the boy made, and so his fate was sealed.

Such that before the Seated Officer unsheathed his weapon, and the display of his spiritual energy roared vehemently, with the effects of his Reiatsu rusting the immediate vicinity, transforming the unconscious Rukongai Citizen into a statue of rust, it was already too late.

The following breathless moment transpired in four simultaneous parts…

The Commander’s spiritual presence came to life in three positions, one to each side of Shin’eki, one behind, and finally, the brunt of it all came together to fall upon the seated officer in a crippling wave of paralysis; finally, the disparity between the two was made evident, an astute Shin’eki likely recognizing his enemy to be of Spirit Class 3. Like a cage, the Shihoin’s Reiatsu kept Shin’eki’s confined and unable to spread.

Three physical replicas of the Commander appeared in these same positions, although undergoing three distinct actions, all of them grinning devilishly: to Shin’eki’s left, if he had the time to look, he’d find the Commander swinging his unsheathed Zanpakuto, a wakizashi, in a downward vertical arc aimed where the seated officer’s arm met shoulder; to Shin’eki’s right, the inverse, an upward vertical cut, aimed at the same location; and behind Shin’eki, a version of the Commander stood with his back to the boy, some four meters away. It seemed Shin’eki was cornered from all sides.

Two gusts of wind manifested, traveling from Shin’eki’s front, in a perpendicular direction to the two swinging blades, although passing through the same target location, that being where the boy’s arms met shoulder. So sharp as to cut through the world itself, severing Reishi and Reiatsu all the same.

The clack of a sheathed blade whispered along the ripples of the howling wind, although subtle as silent death, only perceptible by a keen swordmaster’s ear.

All four occurred simultaneously, or so it seemed. Pertinent to the young officer, although with little time to answer, was the question of why the Commander had allowed his enemy to see, feel, and hear any of it; as the leader of the Onmitsukido, one could only surmise an intentional act, and so, for what purpose?
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Hachi Ikimaku

The Wind-Walker was a Shinigami few could match in speed, for his mastery over the art of Hoho, in combination with his birthright, ushered a being born one with the wind. But alas, where the Shinigami held the unrivaled ability to traverse space with unseen haste, there were others with the capability to respond just as quickly, although in different ways.

One such entity would be the bipedal Hollow, who resembled an enormous ape. As an Adjuchas, the creature had reached the penultimate stage of evolution, and for that, possessed strength unlike most Hollows. Unlike their less evolved Menos, the Adjuchas held special and unique abilities, often rivaling those of the famed Shinigami Shikai.

Such that when Ikimaku’s blade zipped like the wind to sever the Hollow’s large arm, the moment the blade met the creature’s thick and furred skin, its defensive ability triggered instantly through survival instinct. The feedback of the cut echoed true through the Third Seat’s blade, and yet, no arm fell to the floor. Instead, where the blade cut and left a gap, tendrils of viscous liquid licked at each other, the separated arm reattaching whole and pristine.

What the seated officer perceived as blood upon his blade, was something else entirely. As Hachi raised his Zanpakuto up high into the sky, the liquid came to life, moving down the blade quickly and onto the Shinigami’s arm, and then suddenly split into several tentacles; one tentacle secured itself around his wrist like an unbreakable adhesive, and a portion of it shot out diagonally to secure itself around the officer’s opposite wrist, binding his arms together in front of him, stopping his attempted execution. Another tentacle of liquid snaked up his shoulder toward his face, in an attempt to force itself into his mouth. The final string of shape-shifting liquid slithered its way down to his legs, so to immobilize him. No amount of shaking or thrashing would force the liquid off his body.

All the while, the Hollow’s back became its front through a grotesque metamorphosis of liquid and solid. With its free arm raised high, and the unconscious girl still clenched within his other, it swung down to crush Hachi into a pool of goop.

“You must be Hachi Ikimaku…” the Adjuchas declared. “...I’ve been expecting you!”
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Otokogi Aijo

The hooded figure remained unmoved as the Vice-Captain spoke, stood, got on his hands and knees, and bowed. Upon raising his head, he would find he no longer stood within a cabin, but a realm of endless white.

Where the hooded figure once sat, now existed a Shinigami in their place, the once wooden table also replaced by one made of finely-ground marble. Atop the table were two cups, each being filled by the Shinigami, who held a flask. The smell of plum-sake filled the air.

“Very well,” the male Shinigami spoke, as he finished pouring the drink closest to the Vice-Captain’s side. He then poured one for himself. “Have a seat, then, and drink. For there is much to say.”

With lazy eyes the Shinigami looked upon the elder soul, and continued. “The Seireitei is full of treason; layers upon layers; each with its own justification; each one opposed in cause. Of the Royals, you are both correct and mistaken, for it is the weakest of the Four Greats who dabbles in the taboo.”

He stopped pouring, placed the flask down in the center of the table, and raised his cup to his lips. “If you need me to tell you who they are, then you need more than my help,” he said before taking a sip.

“The second layer, well, that’s where my knowledge gets a bit hazy. Let’s just say there’s some powerful Souls within that place you call home that aren’t happy with the status quo.”

He shoots the rest of his cup down, and then begins to pour anew. “As for the rotten core at the heart of it all…”

A hell butterfly manifested out of nothing, fluttering out toward the Old Man’s shoulder. As the Vice-Captain likely and accurately perceived, it seemed the thing had been allowed to enter this space.

The sake-sipping Shinigami watched intently, as Shin’eki’s troubling message is whispered into the elder’s ear.​

 

[Adonai]

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”Very well, Have a seat, then, and drink. For there is much to say.”[/color]

Otokogi lifts his head upon hearing these words looking around at a new landscape and looking up at a Shinigami, just as he suspected. A satisfied smirk and chuckle would follow from the old man as he stood up and took his seat, gratefully accepting the drink offered to him. The elder was ready to accept the words of this Shinigami and what he learned on this day would change the course of his actions for the foreseeable future.

“The Seireitei is full of treason; layers upon layers; each with its own justification; each one opposed in cause. Of the Royals, you are both correct and mistaken, for it is the weakest of the Four Greats who dabbles in the taboo.”

The old man takes a moment, looking down at his drink, his reflection gazing back at him. He stares past the reflection, eliminating the Tsunayashiro and the Shihōin right away as they are currently ruling the Seireitei. The next candidate is the Kuchiki, they are not necessarily weak just without a proper head leaving them to feud with one another over the next successor. Then that leaves only one likely suspect, one who was weakened long before the Great Degradation.

“If you need me to tell you who they are, then you need more than my help.”

”The Shiba.”

A spark of life ignites itself in Otokogi’s eyes, he now knows who to target to route these strange Hollow occurrences. He takes a sip of the plum-sake, a preemptive reward for potentially guessing the correct noble house. In all honesty he would have never guessed them to be the culprit, they have been out of the picture for so long. It does make sense, where their financial power failed they would seek other means to regain their status even if it means taking it by force. Like himself, everyone has turned a blind eye to them allowing them to operate in the dark without hindrance, it would also explain why the Rukongai is being used as a testing ground. Things become more clear to the old man the more he places the Shiba into this puzzle.

“The second layer, well, that’s where my knowledge gets a bit hazy. Let’s just say there’s some powerful Souls within that place you call home that aren’t happy with the status quo.”

Now this is new information as these powerful souls could potentially be allies. He stops his train of thought there as he realizes what he is now thinking about is open rebellion against the current Gotei Thirteen, a civil war could ensue. Many innocent lives would be lost on both sides, needlessly, even Otokogi is not so naive to think he could talk down a Civil War. However, it seems like the time for talking has passed, people have become too apprehensive and set in their ways. It saddens him but if this is the course he must take to help Soul Society return to a proper level of peace then so be it.

“As for the rotten core at the heart of it all…”

His eyes widen, ready to receive the information he needs to strike at the heart of this evil, however, the Shinigami stops speaking. The old man wonders why he stopped, but only for a moment, as a Hell Butterfly lands on his own shoulder. The information he receives from it is alarming, young Uemura being attacked by the Commander in Chief of the Onmitsukido. He knew something like this would happen, however he assumed it would draw out the creator of the Hollow Hybrid. It seems like they are in the dark on this as well unless they too are a co-conspirator with the Shiba. By “they” the old man is referencing…

”The Shihōin. Are they the ones at the core of it? Controlling the Onmitsukido means control over the flow of information. They can intercept reports from the field or even falsify them if need be. Combining that sort of information control with the Shiba’s Hollow augmentation antics it allows them to work in peace until the power is perfected so it can be given out to other members of the clan. If I am wrong please correct me and be quick, someone is asking for my help and you know I cannot turn a blind eye to those in need of help or protection.”

He speaks in a demanding tone but only because time is of the essence. Otokogi has already risen to his feet, his cup empty, he is ready to make his move. He is ready to follow through on the promise he made to the man before him.

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[Aqua]

The Third Seated officer acted with urgency–the only way he knew how to act. A life was hanging in the balance after several others had been wasted and turned into pools of red and feed for fire among the desolate village. As his blade slices through the Hollow’s arm like butter, his eyes dart toward the arm after his manifestation behind the enemy. It had reformed, but even in such a quick glimpse, he had yet to see how. The thick iron-filled substance he assumed had dressed his blade was anything but. Immediately, a master of his craft, Hachi can perceive the additional weight and lack of mobility of his sword after the dark liquid transforms into seemingly sentient tentacle-like organisms. His reflexes as quick as his feet, allow him to act almost subconsciously, continuing the flow of battle without the need to think or plan. This was the true nature of his skill, the true nature of what made him strong. By any means, he refused to be stopped, an enemy in his crosshairs, destined to meet its end by the edge of his blade. He was helpless to save these people, these innocents, from the wrath of this grotesque creature. If he could save even one, just one helpless soul in need of his aid, perhaps he could end the night being able to live with himself. His blade rises high into the sky with full intent on bringing it down at the base of the Hollow’s mask, but is crudely interrupted as tentacles that were formed began to spread in an attempt to immobilize the man. A veteran of many battles, he understood things like this could be tricky, often when it seems it is the best option to struggle and use force, one could find more success in being precise and/or thinking outside of the box. Luckily for him, his mango-sized brain only ticked when it was placed outside of a box.

"Tsuzuri Raiden!!"

The scream echoes out as the blade is still rising above his head. A distant observer or one with considerable knowledge of the demon arts would have trouble understanding how exactly this helped the situation. Hachi, not an astute student of any means, was nearly famed for his haphazard use of Kido. It was almost as if when using it incorrectly, he somehow learned to give himself advantages where others would perceive it to be a complete failure. As the incantation echoes, crackling is heard loud enough to precursor the brewing of a distant storm. Yellow lightning overwhelms his blade, but instead of coursing outwards, the current seemingly retreats inward, making Hachi the target of his own Kido spell! The blade, and Hachi, become enveloped in the golden glow of vehement electricity, coursing through his body and Zanpakuto with intense heat and ferocity. His heightened pain tolerance as a result of being tortured with similar methods of electrocution makes this nothing more than a tickle. At the same moment, his Reiryoku which was once quelled and concealed to cover his approach is converted effortlessly into Reiatsu and consumes his person in a thin layer surrounding himself. The wind picks up and the fires in the immediate vicinity are instantly turned to smoke as forceful gusts seemingly blow out the candles.

This violent electricity combined with his own powerful Reiatsu further forges him into a weapon, a blade made of wind and lightning–A warrior of Storm. The tentacles seemingly screech and scuttle like scared insects, retreating from their positions around his wrist, arm, legs, and body; charred and burned by the Kido spell while his Reiatsu only assists further in expunging the remaining tentacles and any remnants of the mysterious liquid completely from his Zanapakuto as well as his person. His initial plan, while quick and decisive–was mainly devised in an attempt to free the captive from the clutches of this Hollow. His improvisation–however–revealed to him that wouldn’t be possible until its destruction was imminent, and then confirmed. Free of his bonds, formerly only holding the Zanpakuto with one hand–the free hand comes to caress the blade’s handle, the strength behind his upcoming swing increasing exponentially. Furthermore, the current still courses through the blade, which along with Hachi himself is also covered in a vibrant mint hue, reinforced by the wind nature of his Reiatsu. As the blade comes down, first comes a crescent-like hardly visible or tangible blade composed of wind. It continues the predetermined path of heading directly down the middle of the bipedal hollow. In perfect timing, the creature’s back becomes its front, golden orbs able to now deduce who exactly is responsible for its end.

"You must be Hach-"
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FRIIIIIIIIIIP

The wind blade cuts through first, capable of seamlessly combatting resistant Reishi, and pathing the way for the blade that followed with the speed that usurped the wind before it. The blade is coated in wind and lightning, carving through the flesh and ominous liquid of the hollow and all-encompassed, capable of keeping its apparent reactionary defense mechanism at bay just long enough to end its life. Holding the blade with two hands in a perfect vertical swing, the end of the blade’s course releases Hachi’s Reiatsu in a violent uproar. This wind–however–is not of a cutting nature, serving only as a forceful finisher, capable of blowing whatever pieces of the hollow remained in separate directions all over the village. With its mask split, it’s unlikely that it’d be able to regenerate, but even if so, the pieces would have to work adamantly to find themselves again, blown away by the Reppuu. However powerful this attack had been, Hachi was not negligent to the damsel–the reason that he had done all of this in the first place. At worse, she would have been dropped at the splitting of the Hollow’s mask, and perhaps propelled a short distance down the street unconsciously as Hachi’s Reiatsu pushed things outward. The Third Seated Officer’s guard–however–was not depleted, unsure if the powerful hollow before him was capable of surviving such a dominant display. Underestimation wasn’t a part of his repertoire, but a lack of confidence in his abilities was a problem he’d never have.

 

[Hachikō Goseikanjo]

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CLANG!!!

Concurrently, to the fourth seat's left, a blur of red. To his right, crimson. At his back , scarlet. The front, rouge. Was it blood projecting from the severances? Would the young shinigami’s life end in this sort of way, obscured by the evildoings of a plot that he would not be alive to see resolved? He was clearly in over his head from the very beginning and now he was going to die because of it? Whatever was happening, he was never meant to survive it. So, why did he feel no pain? Why was the sensation of the Commander’s blade cutting through his body not coming?

“Tsk tsk tsk.”

His answer? All three of the visages of the Commander were currently preoccupied. Each were in the throes of a clash with a Goseikanjo but not just any Goseikanjo; The red-haired Vice-Captain of the Fourth Divison Hachiko Goseikanjo holding dominon over an immense spirit class of 2. The Shihoin's Zanpakutos rammed against opposing glove-like claws of the clones, with the skin from their wrists down crafted of blood and this blood possessed the same fortitude and durability as the soul reaper’s clandestine Zanpakuto. The Gale-like bisection approaching from the front was met with a structure resembling a wall of blood appearing out of what seemed like thin air that wrapped around the slash catching and then dispatching it in its tracks. Once they had made contact with the enemies, the blood from the talons extended into rigid spines which immediately impaled them by way of a star shaped outburst piercing through their skulls and their torsos effectively closing any distance that might exist between them and their targets.

Her interest in her investment had ultimately brought her back but it was the suspicion that whomever was behind this could possibly ambush the young third seat once she and the old man Aijo had marooned him in the forest. Granted, she knew that she couldn’t afford to tell anyone she was going to set a trap since it became abundantly clear that no one could be trusted. The keen mind of the Lieutenant predicted that if a higher level soul such as herself that’d pose a problem for an ambush made themselves scarce then maybe her absence would smoke out a rat or two. Lo and behold, her instincts had not failed her. It was exactly what she had been waiting for and so, with the rust bucket in her sights, it took her not even a single turn on her heel to end up next to the fly caught in her trap with Chishinishi’s one catheterizing fang stung deeply into the true Commander Shihōin’s side. She, the assaulting spider. This was so, for she was more than qualified to tell the difference between him and the imposters. If he had considered himself a beast of prey, then she was an apex predator and that hunter had returned to check on her bait.

“I was wondering what I’d catch in my web!~”

Although her rank in the Gotei 13 was that of a Lieutenant, those in the hierarchy of the division leaders which in this case were particularly select members of the Onmitsukido, specifically the Shihoin, were well aware the blood thirsty surgeon had always been referred to as captain class among them. Although, when it came down to it she was most suited to belong to the elite covert organization more than nearly anyone else with reserves so monumental yet veiled that her Reiryoku surpassed acting Captains. Even so, the girl had never expressed enthusiasm toward becoming one. Up until now Hachiko had always left the Shihoin alone to their own devices, advised by her Captain to steer clear of them as they would never respect her nor consider her interest in their undercover army. Lieutenant Goseikanjo was not confident that she knew precisely what part they played in the troublesome situation was but she was more than determined to find that out.

As of late, Hachikō's reputation often preceded her far more than usual. The commander was well aware that the monster in front of him would have killed him even if the circumstances were not as they were. There was such palpable hatred in her wild golden eyes that pupils shrunk to pins but, there was hunger too. A desire, a burning frothing desire to dismantle him purely for her own enjoyment. Hell, was she drooling?! Normally, her opponents were boring, weak and more often than not entirely Hollow. Never before had she been allowed to unleash herself upon a Captain, going toe to toe to probable death. It was bold of her to manifest at a position in such minute close range of him but he must have also been aware that she had not done so without some manner of contingency in place. Was she deliberately underestimating him?

“A fly, a nasty annoying traitorous fly named Commander Toshiyuki Shihoin! As I live and breathe!~ It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.~”

If he was not at least a little bit unnerved then he would have been lying to himself. Should the very fact that she had made her grand entrance not paralyze him with terror then her predominant noxious reiatsu surely would. At that moment, the tables had turned substantially. Even if she had overlooked something, chances were that she’d overcome whatever he had been capable of throwing at her one way or another. Each individual report pertaining to the young exile had told the commander that the woman leering back at him was going to be notoriously difficult to even fathom killing before she would inevitably eliminate him. Which was becoming incontrovertible considering the Vice-Captain Shikai’s expeditive drain of his blood and spiritual power must have already sucked the majority of his life from him with his body resembling an exhausted saline bag by now.

“Hope you don’t mind, Figured I’d even the playing field a bit!~ We must keep things interesting. Don’t get me wrong though, it’s not the most clever plan to be cooked up but, you may have succeeded! If you had killed me before wasting your time with him.”

It wasn’t difficult to decipher that this was a puppet master working behind the scenes to achieve a deadly agenda. Perhaps he had even thought that once he did away with their only witness and the young soul reaper tasked with protecting him that he would be free to bring about charges or something to that degree against herself and the old man. It had to be that the old Otokogi was right, he seemed to be perpetually right and that had always pissed her off. So, for this she wouldn’t be killing him, no. She would keep him on the brink of death however, she would refuse to allow him to die. If she did kill him, there would be no one to cleanse her or the others of guilt in this ploy of theirs. Granted, she was no fool. Insane, but not a fool. He’d be permitted to keep enough Reiryoku and blood to sustain him while still ensuring he had no strength in his muscles to move or speak, much less bite down on a toxin filled capsule that would put a swift end to the progress that she had made. Then again there may not have been one at all since, like most nobles of his stature, his arrogance assured him that he would not end up in a position to require one. Which joyfully meant that she had no other choice but to extract every single tooth to find out.

“One way or another, you will tell me what I want to hear!~ Whether it will be with screams or a casual conversation will be entirely up to you from this point on.~”

After that, the real fun would begin. In the course of time, she never did get to interrogate any of the fly’s maggots.

---

>>>>>>>ARRIVING IN THE RUKONGAI FROM THE NORTHEAST SEIREITEI>>>>>>>>

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[Kuvello]

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Listen and Read

”What say you, Seimitsugensui, shall we go all out in an effort to protect Seireitei, as well as the citizens of Rukongai?”

Entering into his inner world, the Fifth Division Officer would find himself at the forefront of the remains of a large beast, its species, age, and origin a complete mystery to the crimson-haired shinigami. To say the area around him was a desolate wasteland was nothing short of an understatement. One could argue even the most notorious and furthest regions of the Rukon District would pale in comparison. The hallowed wind blowing around red-hued sands that irritated Shin’s exposed skin as it seemingly cut through to his bones.With the soft crunches his straw geta’d footsteps entering into the bare skull before him. Inside the maw of the monstrosity, Shin’eki would be confronted with his Zanpakuto spirit. A disembodied torso that hung at the back of the skull’s throat, if it had one, simulating what could only be described as a uvula. With veins that spread out across the roof and back walls, adhering themselves to the otherwise bone surfaces. These “veins” blurred the lines of organic material and synthetic metallic pipes as they hissed and pumped, what they contained, one could only guess.

As Shin neared the dismembered figure, a deep vibrating voice would emit from the figure, in almost a gargled tone.

”Seems you’ve yet again come to request my aid, in your darkest moment, Kozō.” The torso would extend its arm, gesturing as it spoke.”Though do you realize the extent of your request? The audacity to call upon me when the odds are so disproportionate, what have you to say for yourself?”

Shin’eki’s figure remained still, his arms taught at his sides, his shoulders raised slightly, his eyes shadowed by his hair that cropped his face. ”What other choice do I have? Aside from going out on my own terms!”

The torso would begin to bounce from its tethered anchors as a thunderous laugh emitted from deep within the figure, its intensity shaking the very ground Shin’eki stood upon. ”GAHAHAHAHA, So a systematic suicide is what you’ve come to me for, is that it? To think you’d forgo everything you’ve worked so hard for.”

”Hardly, This time, I’ve come to tell you we’re going all out, even if it means we die in the process. We’re going to initiate Bankai!”

The torso’s booming laughter came to a complete halt, as if one had pressed the pause button as the figure became motionless. ”Oh, so you’re serious? Are you sure you still understand the situation in wh-”

”JUST SHUT UP SEIMITSU!” WE’RE GOING, WE’VE COME THIS FAR!”

With what could only be described as a nod from a headless body, the figure would extend his hand toward Shin.

While outside of Shin’eki’s inner world, time seemed to dilate. Seconds became hours. However, regardless of any strength he seemed to draw from, the Fourth Seat would find himself powerless to make a move. A movie played out before him, as he watched helplessly as the Omnimitsukido Commander motioned his way toward him. The noble’s reiryoku registered as a 3rd Grade Spirit. Twice his superior, in terms of spiritual prowess, and as a result Shin’eki’s plan for releasing his Zanpakuto’s Bankai would fail short. (Ba-) Shin’eki’s voice couldn’t escape his throat, his larynx unable to produce the vibrations needed to emit sound, only his mental monologue was permitted to express the start of the “incantation”. However, with the sudden realization that Shin had been duped with the sensation of multiple pressure signatures, memories of Shin’s time spent as a child in Sakahone flashed before his eyes. His time during the academy, the friends he met, the comrades he watched fall, the ones he failed to protect. His Lieutenant whom he viewed as both a friend and a future rival, to the Elder whom he viewed as a father figure he never had, and now would never have again, even to the sanguine psycho, of whom he’d never be able to reprimand for killing the innocent people of Semariyami. How ironic to have just come from a place by such a name, to now returning to that state of Looming Darkness even within the limits of
Hokuseikawa.

Perhaps now he was just the same as the very person he’d previously sought vengeance upon. After all, at this rate the witness would not only die, but everything the three of them had worked for up until now would’ve been for naught, and who could say for certain if Shin’eki’s final thoughts would reach Otokoji-sensei in time, if even at all. Closing his eyes, Shin’eki would succumb to the numbing sensation of defeat, being so far outclassed in strength that there was literally nothing he could do to protect himself, or anyone else for that matter.

Until…

The stench of blood filled Shin’eki’s nostrils, his senses coming out of auxiliary mode, as his eyes opened to the hues of an all too familiar sanguine hue, and a voice that only previously sent waves of fear down his spine. Now, that very voice would ring the bells of salvation as Shin’eki found himself to be surrounded by walls of a thick viscous fluid. How in the hell did she arrive here so quickly, was she trailing him the entire time for such a situation? He’d been unable to sense her presence unless she purposefully revealed it to him up until now, perhaps that was her ultimatum?

“I was wondering what I’d catch in my web!~”

Shin’eki’s eyes would widen, his train of thought put on the back burners as he couldn’t help but watch in both awe and terror. This was the clashing of two demons! Two Oceans of varying power levels fighting over dominance of one another. Shin’eki’s ship was too small for such waves these two could potentially exchange.

A fly, a nasty annoying traitorous fly named Commander Toshiyuki Shihoin! As I live and breathe!~ It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.~ Hope you don’t mind, Figured I’d even the playing field a bit!~ We must keep things interesting. Don’t get me wrong though, it’s not the most clever plan to be cooked up but, you may have succeeded! If you had killed me before wasting your time with him.”

That was Shin’eki’s cue to head for the hills, or at the very least, that is how he understood it to be, quickly, he’d shunpo from the former damnation turned salvation of Hachiko’s bloody domain, as he appeared atop a thatched roofed building, clutching the rusted remains of the witness’s body, the boy’s sword sheathed within it’s saya as the rust shell began to crumble away from the man’s face. To think this was the monster of whom he swore vengeance in the name of justice. Such an absurd notion on this end. To think he’d even last a minute in combat with the likes of that bitch. The only problem now, what to do, besides protect the man at all costs, from not only succumbing to the ailment brought about by Shin’eki’s hubris, but also the potential targeting of the Shihoin to only further tarnish their names, and stories.

Clutching the hilt of his zanpakuto with his left hand, Shin’eki would take a small, yet profound moment to not only curse his own weakness, but also engrave this moment into the cortex of his very mind and soul. For this event would surely lend him a psychological detox for when he’d allow himself to become arrogant again.
​

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[admins]

Listen While You Read​

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Hachiko Goseikanjo

Some things were simply too erratic, too chaotic, to foresee. There existed Souls within the Seireitei who feigned unpredictability, such as the Commander-in-Chief Toshiyuki Shihoin, and they were exceptional at it. Unrivaled, even. And yet, there were few who embodied chaos on a level far beyond the intentional. In this matter, the Shihoin heir was outclassed.

And yet, the remarkable did not end there, for the speed with which the Vice-Captain of the Fourth appeared was truly unthinkable. To traverse so much space, from the deepest reaches of the Fourth Division to the Thirty-Second District of the Western Rukongai, in what had to have been seconds, so as to even give herself a chance to attempt to prevent the dismemberment of her pet. Beyond words, and truly, only a handful of others within the Seireitei could do the same.

Only after the proposed crimson ichor splashed about the unsuspecting Shin’eki, and the supposed clang of Chishinishi parrying the Shihoin’s sealed Zanpakuto, and the subsequent impaling of said clones by way of Chishinishi’s blood, and the erection of a bloodied wall to dismiss the sharp gales, and finally, the true strike by the Goseikanjo against the Shihoin’s real form, did the Vice-Captain’s immense Reiatsu come bearing down upon them all.

An irony that a Vice-Captain would be spiritually more powerful than a Captain equivalent, and yet, here they were. Her detestable Reiatsu screeched as it made the world surrounding the three hers, a sea of crimson to the Commander’s ship. By all accounts it was David versus Goliath; she held the advantage, there was no question. But like she would know, through her many battles in centuries past against opponents of his caliber, they were close enough that it would take much more than Reiatsu to put him down; she knew very well that he could still send her to hell. After all, he was the Commander of the Onmitsukido, and a Shihoin! One of the Greatest families to ever exist, one of the most powerful! Through his potent spiritual energy and immaculate control did he reel his Reiatsu in, condensing it enough to fend against hers.

She’d overestimated her own capabilities against the actions of a being of his pedigree. It seemed even the most gifted at Reikaku could fall victim to his subterfuge.

Her attempts to stop Toshiyuki from taking his due, had failed. Her decision to parry and strike at the four visible clones of Toshiyuki, and block the winds through walls of blood, was one made on the premise that his actions were made simultaneously. Unfortunately, such was not the case, for the Onmitsukido chief had negotiated a different arrangement with time; a sequence of actions were established, so quick so as to elude the perception of even the most astute, it would seem.

The double gales of sharpened wind were in truth an after-effect of the first of four actions, a delayed response by the world to conform to the Shihoin’s agreement. The near-imperceptible clack of a sheathing blade sought to communicate to those willing and able to listen, that Toshiyuki’s blade had already done its deed, slicing through the Fourth Seat’s arms, and sheathed again. At that moment in time, it was the version of Toshiyuki that stood behind Shin’eki, with his back to the boy, that had acted first. The gales were a delayed result of the disturbance made against the element of wind, accomplished through sheer power and speed. Simply, what she sought to stop, were his subsequent actions taken after his first had already concluded.

The two versions of the Stealth Force Chief at the boy’s flanks were clones brought to life with such haste, so as to seem simultaneous to the first. In the end, misdirection. Were they expecting any differently?

Both the Vice-Captain, and the victim, had failed to respond appropriately.

Toshiyuki provided the world with cues, subtle ones, so as to make the engagement somewhat interesting. There was no enjoyment in the mindless killing of weaker prey. And yet, none of it was heeded.

Peculiar then, that the Vice-Captain would be sharp enough to detect the real Toshiyuki, and his position; again, an intentional feed. Such that when Hachiko received feedback after she struck the clone behind Shin’eki, and impaled the two to his flanks, and poked the one she believed to be true with Chishinishi, all four vanished, each replaced with tattered cloth. A master of Hoho, Toshiyuki’s Utsusemi was left on display.

“Hahahaha!” came from a distance, atop a nearby building. Only after his laughter ended, did the strange chords of a dark lullaby ring across the battlefield, reaching the ears of the Vice-Captain and Seated Officer alike. Within the Commander’s grip would it be shown that his Zanpakuto had transformed into a meter-long scimitar. The lullaby continued, never faltering, a constant bass in the background. Even with her spiritual advantage, like Shin’eki, the Vice-Captain would begin to experience the onset of fatigue; all of their faculties would begin to slow. Although currently minor, it was a race against the clock, until the two would fall into a complete slumber.

“If it isn’t the little gremlin! Welcome,” he exclaimed, pointing the index finger of his free hand at the area the four Vice-Captain’s resided, the needles and blood of her Shikai impaling tattered cloth. “To your grave, you disgusting rat.” Electricity sparked at his finger, and then traveled down to cover his entire body. A torrent of lighting shot forth, roaring at great speed, erupting in a pillar of electricity when it struck the dead center of the four, frying everything to a crisp within its fifty meter exploding radius. If she were versed in the Demon Arts, she’d recognize it as Raikaho. His Reiatsu sang like never before, uncharacteristic for someone of his livelihood.

“Huh?”

Mild pain stung at Toshiyuki’s chest, a blob of wet crimson spreading to the size of a fist upon his garment. It seemed the Vice-Captain’s advantage had translated to their bout of speed, just enough to nick his chest with Chishinishi’s blood.
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Shin'eki Uemura

Perception was a fickle thing; sometimes, even the keenest eye would fall victim to the masterful manipulations of a higher being. Such was the case here, with Shin’eki’s fate all but already sealed.

As the chaos ensued, and his crazed savior appeared like a bloodied angel from hell, all the young Shinigami could do was witness. He was by all means a spectator, a bystander to the onslaught about to transpire – both his, and his savior’s.

Only after Shin’eki appeared atop his chosen rooftop, would he witness his enemy standing across the dirt road, atop one of his own. There he would hear the lullaby sing, a sleepiness starting to take hold; his senses waned, his cognitive and physical faculties slowing down. Like the Vice-Captain, although from a different vantage point, he too would see the Commander’s form roar with electricity, and the subsequent Hado fired down at the Vice-Captain.

Only after all of this, did two red lines sketch across both of his upper arms, where they met shoulder. With a gush of blood did they seperate from his body, falling down atop the roof with a thud, the unconscious suspect’s body following in kind.

A phrase of words accompanied the lullaby, a near whisper…was someone singing alongside the song? The truth of the matter came to light only after pain struck at Shin’eki’s abdomen.

“...where do you think you’re going…?”

When he looked down, the Seated Officer found the hard soul-steel of a curved blade, the tip of it facing in his same direction, soaked in his red lifeblood. From behind appeared the Commander of the Onmitsukido, his body rippling with electricity, he too with blood upon his chest, and a grin upon his face

“Goodbye, little rat.”​

 

[admins]

Hachi Ikimaku

It seemed Hachi Ikimaku was a crafty and flexible Shinigami, one who could respond to all that came his way simply by relying upon his instinct. A fascinating, yet frightening individual.

Upon his utterance of that spell, and the subsequent flare of his Reiatsu in tow, his enemy’s survival instinct kicked in. Such that the Hollow had already sprung to action by the time the Wind-Walker removed his shackles through the electrifying display – the liquid tentacles screeching as they were reduced to ash – and raised his other hand to grip the blade with two.

Mid sentence, and just as the Third Seat’s swing would come crashing down, the Adjuchas’ body split in two. The preceding wind, the cut itself, and the Reiatsu born from it, all whiffed, cutting through nothing more than empty air. With the Hollow’s body split, its grip weakened, and the young female child fell to the ground with a thud.

Tendrils erupted from the empty sides of each half, and just like that, one Hollow became two; identical to one another, they tower before the Third Seat. When the aftermath of the strike against the earth settled, the wind picked up violently with immense force.

The young child thrown into the clutches of the wind, her frail body zipped through the air and out of sight. The twin Hollows lunged at the Third Seat, each attempting to swipe at him from both sides; if successful, they would slam fist against fist, turning him into a pool of Shinigami entrails. Yet, the Wind-Walkers winds work to slow them slightly.​

 

[admins]

Otokogi Aijo

When the Old Man uttered the name of that family, the Shinigami responded with an mmhmm.

“Surprised me. To think such a noble and great house would fall so far…well, goes to show you how easily one can become a victim of their desire for power.”

The mysterious Shinigami took a sip of his drink, observing his guest’s expression transform as the thoughts came together within the elder’s mind. Though curious, would he be asking as to how this strange Soul knew so much about the Seireitei? It was the nature of Tenki, and what it truly was, that made it into the information hub that it was.

While the Gentle Breeze presented his question, the Shinigami drank, and then said, “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.”

There he stopped briefly, took another sip, and continued. “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.” The last sentance came with an uncharacteristic deathly seriousness, at least since the time their conversation began.

With that, the Shinigami disappeared, and the endless white returned to the desolace that once was. As the Old Man was left to his own devices, in the dried badlands that was Tenki, he heard the voice one more time.

“Keep your promise...Gentle Breeze.”​