Letting Go [Tokiyo|Closed]

Never before had a butterfly felt so incredibly heavy.

Even before it entered through the open air window, Tokiyo knew the butterfly would be coming.  He also knew who the message would be from.  And what it would say.  And how she intended him to hear it.

The little thing set down on his forearm and fluttered its wings gently, as it transmitted his message.  The words were direct and clear, and he thanked the messenger for all the good such a notion would do.

His defeat was only hours behind him, barely a day old even, but already the news had propagated to every inch of the Seireitei.  The Captain Commander, his own Captain as well as the others, probably a couple of the Lieutenants, dozens and dozens of seated officers, and hundreds of the unseated were all there to see it.  Anyone who *didn’t* know what happened had to well and truly have their head in the sand.  The news had even transmitted to outposts on Earth.  No corner was spared the bright, orange light of his apparent embarrassment.

During the one trip that Tokiyo had made out of his office and quarters since the fight he had overheard two members of the Onmitsukido talking to one another.  ‘I heard that he was the first person ever, in the HISTORY of the Soul Society, to get beat down before even *seeing* the person he was challenging’.  

Of course, that statement was wrong.  People who got out of line and challenged a Captain that others loved, or that they had no business challenging, often had mysterious, mind-changing moments before their big fight that left them either unable or unwilling to pursue it any further.  They may be right that no one had ever been called out for it publicly, and lost, however.  And the mere fact that these men were even entertaining this sort of talk spoke of everything Tokiyo needed to hear.

He was well and truly a laughing stock.  And Kiriko was going to let him know it.

He stood carefully, still store from the exchange with Shun despite the recuperative powers of Kaido, and folded his plain, gray kimono closed.  He cinched it closed and left his office, making his way across the normally vibrant courtyard, however today he saw it just as muted and flat as the color of his vestments.

Yet still there was no despair inside of him.  He was facing the consequences, even though that mountain was about to get bigger, and in time the pain would lessen.  The veteran had learned many, many years prior to glean the best he could from any situation, even a loss, and make it his own.  To grow.  To learn.  To stumble and, if he had to fall, fall forward.

The optimism of it all could be disturbing at times.

He straightened the hem and collar of his kimono as he stood outside the door to his Captain’s Office.  He had wisely booked three days off beginning with the date of the challenge in the event that he won and needed time to discuss the future with officers in both squads without the interruption of his duty… or needed the time to recover mentally and physically from a loss.

He had a bit of baggage in tow, of that there was no doubt, and as he slid the doors open to his Captain’s office it seemed to only get more and more weighty.

This was not going to be pleasant.

He shut the door behind him and shuffled over to Kiriko’s desk, greeting her with a straight face and tired eyes.  “I’ve received your summons Captain.  How can I be of assistance?”

A question both of them were disappointed that he had to ask.

Word count // 629 = 12 || 12

She kept her back turned, posture stiff and formal like a lone statue in the depths of an overgrown garden. Staring out the window that framed her desk, Kiriko watched as puffs of air stirred at the plant life just beyond her reach. Small golden blossoms stirring in the breeze, a few of the weaker petals breaking off and twirling through the air itself like the most tender of cyclones. As much as she enjoyed looking at flowers, Kiriko also knew that they held a purpose to their existent. Oxygen and carbon dioxide. A cycle that was intrinsic to life itself. And yet the pretty blooms were not necessary for the plant to live on, only to promulgate. And because they were unnecessary it was so very easy for them to fall.

She only wished that the mind had the same way of constructing itself. The superficial aspects, the parts of ones brain that served no central purpose other then bulk, they should be so easy to remove. A stiff breeze - and poof, the bonds that held them in place should break. But humans were not as smart as plants. They clung to the most needless of things, believing so strongly in their own intelligence and unable to see just how flawed they really were.

What should be was not what was. And that was a hard lesson for everyone to learn.

Kiriko had wanted to make Fujikagi feel uncomfortable. To make him wait as the anxiety climbed and he realized the truth without her even needing to speak. But now that she had the chance it all felt so dull. An empty echo of fun, like the deadened ring of a bell full of sand. Instead of purpose filling her movements with fluidity, Kiriko stood still and pensive without a malicious tendency to give her that boost of vigor.

Slowly she turned, her hands folded neatly before her and her eyes glistening with an unusual emotion. Grief. She was sad that this even had to happen. Remorseful that her lot in life made it such that it was Kiriko's job to remind people of their contract. Of their deal with the devil. Regretful that, in this case, it was her who stood in for that literary figure.

“Fujikagi-san,” Kiriko spoke, her tone clipped and precise. “I appreciate you coming so quickly.” Courtesy had always been a weapon of sorts, and she spared no barbs with her utterly frozen barrage. It was needless for Fujikagi, like so many of her acts, but ceremony had its place.

“I was upset when I learned that you intended on challenging Aizawa-taichou. You did not come to me for my approval, or for my advice. I told myself that it was just the way things were, perhaps you wanted to do this all on your own. Perhaps it was supposed to be a statement,” Kiriko murmured, her tone conversational before suddenly cutting to the quick.

“I never expected to see you back in this room though. Not like this.”

“Do you know why that was, Fujikagi-san? Why I believed you to be so capable of handling a Captain on your own?” Here she paused, her eyes hardening to stone and her face smooth as glass. 

“It is because you are Nibantai. You absorbed so many of our division's lessons that I knew you could not fail to win. It wasn't a matter of strength, but of belief. Tenacity. Professionalism. I believed you would win because you were the better fighter, mentally. The physicality of it all has never mattered.”

“But now, I wonder... Did you simply forget? Or was it something more insidious... Have you never really believed in yourself? Have you been acting this whole time, fooling even me with your resolve? Did you mouth your oaths with fingers crossed behind your back?”

“The thing is, Fujikagi-san. I don't like liars. And now I find myself with a Lieutenant that is the worst sort of liar. Someone who believes so little in themselves that they cannot even fight for their own objectives. If you can't do that, for yourself, then why should I believe you are capable of doing anything that I ask of you?”

WC: 703 | GP: 14 | Total GP: 31

“Oh.  Oh wow.  She did not take that well, not at a-  You know what?  I’ll just um… I’ll be over here if you need me.”

Even though they intrinsically occupied the same spot, he would have given anything to swap places with Karaudo in that moment.  It was physically paining him to see the disappointment in Kiriko’s eyes ; to hear the grief and dismay on her serrated words, even though she masked it almost perfectly.  Maybe it was just his guilty conscience tugging his common sense into the pit his self esteem had fallen into, where death awaited them both.

He took her words.  All of them.  Besides the obvious implication that he didn’t have a choice in the matter, he had been officially summoned by his Captain after all, Tokiyo was feeling the powerful urge to make penance with Kiriko.

No one had been by to tell him it was okay.  Or that he put up a good fight and they were sorry to see that go down how it did.  Even an impartial head sticking in to his door and asking him if he was recovering well.  Nothing.  

They could have expected that he had no need for such trite pleasantries, a line of thinking common in the Second, and they would have been right.  But the thought.  All he got was confused stares and flabberghasted disbelief.

In a backwards way, Kiriko’s deeply scathing accusation that he was a fraud and a liar did do some good for his wounded soul ; she sliced right into the dead tissue and carved a chunk of it free.

He hadn’t noticed it before then but he had bowed his head over the course of his Captain’s lecture.  Deferrant.  Penitent.  Embarrassed.  Slowly, he lifted his head up and met her now stone cold eyes.  “There was no problem with my belief in myself, Captain.  That did not falter.”

Tokiyo’s voice was thin and weak under the strain of his own words, but it gained timbre and strength until he reached a quiet, conversational tone he hoped to stay cloaked behind.  He had no desire to see the cold in her eyes give way to the fire, even though it threatened to more and more with each moment.  “However I was not there for my own gratification, and I well and truly apologize if I permitted that to be my signature.  I was there for something I had expected to be truth ; I was there to be right.”

He cleared his throat as his voice faltered again slightly.  “And it turns out I wasn’t, even though I may not have been wrong.  And no amount of might could have spared me that fact.”

“My conviction in executing my duties as your Lieutenant has never wavered.  Never shrunk.  Never even bent.  Lieutenant Minamoto was not my enemy in any capacity other than he happened to be the one who stepped out through the crowd."

Tokiyo eyed the short chair on his left with a subtle glance ; a little game of reverse psychology he liked to *try* and pull on the Captain.  She would see him eye the chair, she always did, and then she would make the decision to give him what he wanted, or deny him.  And he would gain some insight on her mood.  In this specific instance it would be more than fair to say he had a notion what she would choose.

His voice grew stronger as he spoke, building to his normal baritone.  “You are more than right, Captain.  I could have re-bricked the Seireitei with a mortar made from Shun and Junko’s blood and ashes if they had crossed *me*.  You would already be wearing jewelry made from their bones if they crossed paths with me in the execution of *my* duties to the Nibantai or my solemn oath to this station.”

Tokiyo’s shoulders relaxed bit, now that he was conscious of the passion that had been building within him as he spoke.  It was uncharacteristic of him and it was inappropriate in front of Kiriko.

He returned to whatever calm he could find, although that well was quickly becoming dry.  “If only.  But that’s not what happened.  A man in black brought an idea in front of the entirety of the Third Division and attempted to force it down their gullet.  You know what happened, Captain.  And you’re expressing the same flaw that lead me to that end.”

“You fucking moron...Can you-  Well.  No taking it back.”

His blood pressure skyrocketed the moment the words left his mouth.  All his centuries of practice and training were fucking meaningless ; his cheeks flushed with red and his mind quickly filled with tangible regret that squeezed at his head like a vice, threatening to pop it like an overripe grape.

No, no there wasn’t any taking it back.

Word count // 816 = 16 || 28

“Flaw,” she spoke as if savoring the word, allowing it to roll around on her tongue like the most piquant of foods. As much as Fujikagi tried to hide it, and as skilled as he was in the arts she herself had schooled him in, he was no match for her eyes. And in looking she saw a great many things. Some terrible, some sweet. Enough to know he was afraid. Enough to know he believed in what he was saying, so much so that he was willing to challenge her. Enough to know he was a fool.

“And pray tell, what flaw was that, Fujikagi-san?” Her smile was sharp and eerie, the gleam of white from afar. He had mistaken her words in the same way that a child misunderstands their parent. To Kiriko, the words belief and will were synonymous with the words objective and goal. It wasn't a matter of what he felt was needed, what he felt he wanted. It was more then that. The dire obligation of living as he did, of being what he was. That was what he had failed when he allowed Minamoto Shun to defeat him. Not some sense of pride, not an inner willpower, and certainly not his own feelings of self-worth.

It was worse then just that and Kiriko knew him well enough to know that he was prone to this very mistake. To feeling so confident in himself that he would swallow the choice given to him without thought to the hook beneath the wriggling bait. Here Fujikagi stood, content to defy his Captain purely because of that bait. In his heart of hearts he thought himself smart. He thought himself learned. As if the lessons he had gleaned from that battle were the correct ones and not a dirge that would follow him to his grave.

“Because it seems to me that the only flaw here lies with you. You said you needed to be right? That you failed to force your ideas down the throats of others? To that I would say you are only proving my point...” Kiriko moved, her lithe assurance to her captive audience making it all the more hair-raising as she slowly reached for the sword at her side. Long nails tapped the lacquered sheath, caressing with an almost intimate touch, before she slid the saya from her obi and gently lay the blade atop her desk. Eyes pinning him in place the entire time without the slightest twitch to explain her actions.

“You see, when I brought up your resolve, and your professionalism, the two are fundamentally linked. You do not need to convince anyone of anything in this world, Fujikagi-san, if only you can convince yourself. The fact that you could not convince yourself you were right, that you faltered at another's convictions, means that you lack direction. You lack dedication. It makes you a liar. To yourself. To the world. To me.”

“Because when I ask my subordinates to give me everything, that includes their hubris. And you have failed in that. There is only one thing that matters. One set of principles for truth. If you had persevered, if you had forced yourself to discard your disbelief, to push on through Minamoto's arguments – then what you believed in would have become the truth of the matter. You would make it so, as Captain of the Third. That is the right of a Captain, to shape reality and create order.”

“How else do you think we can do what we do? How else did you stomach what it is that the Second asks of you? Of your comrades in arms? We take everything away, and in return we promise that my reality will come about. I will sacrifice anything to reach my goal, including the world's sense of fact – of rightness. You weren't ready to do the same, and that is why you failed.”

“That is why you need to cut away this flaw, Fujikagi-san. Take this setback as the opportunity that it is. Look to yourself and see those parts of you that have been holding you back. You don't need them. And I don't need you with them.” Kiriko twitched her fingers, the tiniest of movements, but enough to bare an inch or so of dark blade from the sheath. Enough to allow the light to crystalize on that exposed surface, for dust motes to swirl around them, and for her eyes to tear into the Lieutenant with harsh disregard.

This was for him. In the end, everything she did, was for the new world. 

“But I *did* give you my hubris, Captain.  What’s left of me is what -you- planted there!”  He blurted back, coming precariously close to cutting her off.

“I made a choice to follow you.  I understood what you wanted me to do and I do it ; I help you bring that reality you envisioned into alignment with the one we presently occupy.”

His tone changed to one of more gravity as his eyes darted back and forth between the Captain and her blade.  Worried?  Yes.  Afraid?  Not yet.  Kiriko had a flair for the dramatic when she was trying to make a point however he had genuinely never seen her pressed beyond the threshold of making such overtures.  He could only speculate as to how she would handle the rest of this conversation if they had already come to this impasse.

“But none of them chose you.  Or me.  Or what you want of me.  Or what I presumed to make them accept.  They don’t function like us, Kiriko.  They can’t by fundamental purpose of their existence.”

He caught his breath as he stood up more straight, ironing out his body language.

“And Shun and the entire experience taught me that it should be neither my job nor my inclination to assimilate the rest of them into my paradigm.  Not like that.  Not when I failed so entirely as to understand them.”

Tokiyo dropped his eyes down and to the side.  He knew exactly the words he wanted to say and they pained him to conjure but he owed it to himself, to the loss, to Shun, to *her* to say it straight.
 

“Any idea to the contrary - that you get to decide for them just because you ‘believe in yourself’ - is childish.  It’s blind.  And you’re better than that, Kiriko.  You’re infinitely better than that and judging by the size of the failure it took for me to realize that?  I sincerely wish you would hear what I have to say in order to avoid the proportionately greater cost of the universe teaching you this on its own.”

The choice of words was compassionate, but the tone behind them was not.  To anyone else overhearing them, or who might have been in her place, it would have seemed a threat.  

Hopefully she knew us better.  

Hopefully.

And if she didn’t?  It wouldn’t be the first time a senior officer demanded the life of a subordinate for such an egregious embarrassment.

Word count // 416 = 8 || 36

Kiriko winced. Not visibly, she hadn't made such a mistake physically for years and years now. Not since graduating the Academy, the day she had cut out that weakling heart of hers and replaced it with stone. But inside, deep inside, her soul thrummed with grief. Hahaue sat there stroking the strands of anguish, a blank look on her face and dark dark liquid eyes. “This is enough, Kiriko. You know this to be true. You can let it end, now. Let it go. Accept what your Lieutenant has to say. Accept his understanding. He is your man to protect, do not destroy him with your words or you yourself will be forsworn in your oath to all of the Second that you hold so dear,” the Inner Hollow spoke, though her mouth did not move and her eyes did not waver in their cool regard.

Finally she added one last entreaty, hands strumming at the shamisen of Kiriko's forgotten heart. “Please. Kiriko. Please do not lose this man as well as the rest. You are the only one who does this to yourself, no one else forces you to make these choices. Kiriko... Be kind.”

It was like a long lost whisper, the gentle reminder of an older sister to her younger sibling who had pulled the hair of another child out of jealousy. Except it wasn't that simple this time around. Being kind got Kiriko nowhere except walked all over. As much as she ached with the simple knowledge of what she was doing, of what she was agreeing she had to do, that didn't change fate. It didn't change reality. “Mine to protect. Even from himself, Hahaue. Even from himself,” she whispered, her tongue heavy as stone in a mouth that had ceased to feel.

Fujikagi had failed to understand her. Failing again and again to grasp her meaning, instead throwing up such useless and flimsy arguments as he could grasp in his injured nature.

“You are wrong, Fujikagi-san. I don't get to decide because I believe in myself. I get to decide because it is right. Because I am right. And anyone who would say otherwise, who would argue against that truth, will be removed until the entire world believes. That is how power works,” she leaned forward, and grasped the hilt of her sword in one fierce grip. The singing tone of metal sliding free was the only warning she gave as Kiriko leapt over her desk towards her Lieutenant.

He was wrong. Deadly wrong. And she would force him to realize his own weakness. If a battle had made him this way then a battle would fix him. Kiriko would force Fujikagi to acquiesce to her reality. And in doing so she would prove her point. Prove to him that the tremors and wills of everyone else were secondary to his own vision. If only he could be strong enough, if only he could harden his heart to the needs of those around him – then he would be able to create a future that was better. The people that lived here and now, they were all the sacrifice the world had offered up for a better future.

Kiriko could live with that. Fujikagi too, in time, would learn to live with that. They had all sinned enough in their lifetimes, it was only just that this generation be the one to pave the way for the next.

The duality of the two Shinigami in the room was almost ironic. One who believed in himself but couldn't face the voices of those around him. And one who easily silenced the world only to struggle with her own heart. Together they would have been flawless. It was all going to be okay though, because together they would learn to be what the world needed them to be.

No matter what it took Kiriko was willing to pay the price. She had to. It was her penance for the blood on her hands. The only thing that mattered now was her dream of the future.

Hahaue was wrong. Fujikagi was wrong. Aneue was wrong. Only Kiriko understood reality. Only Kiriko understood that this blood could never be washed away, only assuaged by seeing her goal brought about. It was the only way to make amends. 

WC: 710 | GP: 14 | Total GP: 50

The chair to his left slid out of the way, as if every particle of its being wanted to get out of Tokiyo’s, and subsequently Kiriko’s, way.  The haggard Lieutenant began to backpedal as his Captain leapt over the table that had separate them, sword drawn, with an anger on her face that only barely managed to hold back the full fury of the contempt roiling inside of her.

“Do you hear yourself?!”  He raised his voice as he took, one, two, three quick steps backwards to add valuable space between them - not that she couldn’t close it in the blink of an eye, but instincts are instincts.

“You sound like a schoolyard bully, spouting this nonsense, ‘I am right because I am bigger'.  What kind of rubbish is that?  And the far more disturbing question is what drove you to believe it?”

He was quickly running out of space as he took three, four, five more steps backwards, deliberate but hurried, until he neared the wall on the far side from where their little dance had begun.  She continued to approach him, and he couldn’t help but lift his arm in front of him, preparing to shield himself.  He was far from weak, even compared to her, but Tokiyo was under no illusions that his Captain would deliver anything except her most righteous correction to whatever part of him happened to be closest.

“Power corrupts only those who think they deserve it!  You are *not* exempt from what makes you a person...a human...a woman!”

The braced arm lowered and he extended his hand out to her, begging that she stay her Executioner’s gaze.  His voice, now tremble just slightly, pleaded with her quietly.

“Captain, Kiriko-chan, you cannot force this on yourself.  You cannot give up what the men and women who serve you, and work with you, and rely on you for protection, hold in common with you or you lose sight of everything you hope to one day gain.  Everything you fight for.”

“Put down your sword, before you cut the only warmth left inside of you.”

His eyes welled subtly, full of whatever strength his heart had left to give him in spite of its recent strains.  They locked in a stare, Tokiyo’s soul perhaps as warm and personable as it ever had been : strong and stout, yet welcoming like a brick cottage and a lit hearth.  Kiriko’s soul was catching fire in all the wrong places and all the wrong ways ;  blackened and acrid like burnt out coals.

Tokiyo’s stand was nearing its conclusion and he had left nothing unsaid.  Kiriko’s will was incomprehensibly strong and he would never break her down, never lull her into the light, by doing anything short of letting her make the decision.

In centuries past, Tokiyo had done a fair share of convincing shady people to make sketchy agreements for equally dubious goods.  And he was damn good at it.  Glib manipulation, strong drink, and the ability to read people built him a lifetime of interchangeable, adaptable skills.  And they had been completely and wholly abandoned in pursuit of (hopefully) saving his life, as well as the soul of his friend and Captain.

Word count // 556 = 11 || 47

The space between them closed in all the time it took for her to exhale. Firm pressure kept her back straight, arm cocked, legs stiff as she stalked towards her prey. Fujikagi's fear was tantalizing, a bubbly brew that egged on her taunt nerves and for a lone second Kiriko almost felt drunk. Time stretched like taffy, unable to break, thinner and thinner, until she exhaled once more and the power trip abated like evaporation. The only reminder a faint tingling in her fingertips, an odd lack of pigmentation in her lips that had been clenched so tightly together.

No. No. No! Kiriko had mastered that part of herself long ago! Aneue's grasp over her emotions was supposed to be weak now. It was daylight – Kiriko's domain. And screw Aneue for trying to intrude on Kiriko's plans! Damn it. With all of her vitriol towards Hahaue, at the very least the Inner Hollow never got in the way. Never tried to usurp when she could just cajole. Not that Kiriko was open to being convinced of anything anymore.

Listening to other people had only gotten her hurt. She refused to feel that pain anymore. Not when it was her own fault it occurred.

She narrowed her eyes, something dark and grim swimming in their blank depths. “A bully, Fujikagi-san? Perhaps you are right, but this world needs more bullies. Complacency and harmony have only gotten us further down this path of darkness!” She had meant it to be a cool remark, a calm rejoinder that would shatter his perceptions. Instead her voice came out sharp and sibilant, hissed between clenched teeth.

Fujikagi just didn't get it. And he was getting on her nerves with all this useless argumentation. She prepared herself to smack him down verbally, but instead Kiriko froze as her Lieuntenant's next salvo struck her to the core.

Exempt from what made her a person?

“Don't you see Fujikagi-san? That's exactly what I need to be. My humanity is a cage that holds me back from my goals. If I stop to care about all of that, then I will waver at a critical moment – I will not be strong enough to bring about the change we need to see. It doesn't matter what I have to sacrifice to become strong enough – it doesn't matter what. Compassion. Civility. Morality. Humanity. I will cast them away gladly.”

“And you, you will too Fujikagi-san! Or I will cut them out myself!”

Bringing her sword arm to bear, Kiriko lunged. She wasn't playing around anymore. This wasn't a game and the time for words was long past. Clutching the hilt in both hands she drove the blackened blade true. Fujikagi needed this. She had to give it to him. Even if... Even if he would die if he couldn't or wouldn't cast away his emotions. Even if it would be her blade that killed him. She would do this thing. Not for Fujikagi. Not for herself. But for the future.

Time seemed to stop as the tip of her Zanpakutou creeped closer and closer to her Lieuntenant's heart. He stood there, frozen, her years of experience and skill winning out in this battle of reflexes. At the last moment Kiriko looked away, eyes closing shut as if she could hide from the reality of what she was doing. If she didn't see the blow land, then maybe he would still escape. Maybe he would still succeed.

Rigid impact jarred her arms and reverberated down to her legs. Kiriko's eyes snapped open, unable to ignore her training in battle despite her internal revulsion. Gazing forward, her mouth parted slightly as her knuckles turned white around the hilt of Aneue.

It was impossible!

The terrified thought reverberated in an empty skull, but the longer Kiriko looked the more her vision tunneled. There, in front of her, was Fujikagi. Standing still, but unharmed. No blood coating his chest, not even a speck. Her sword had halted just a centimeter away from piercing the flesh. Jerking roughly forward, Kiriko tried to ram the blade ahead once more.

But it wouldn't move.

She couldn't move it.

Cold seeped in through her pores, the chill of a flesh blanket of snow as soft hands wrapped around her shoulders before dainty palms covered her eyes. Descending into darkness, Kiriko struggled, an animalistic snarl tearing out of her throat. “HAHAUE!”

“You will not kill your Lieutenant, Kiriko,” the whispery words drifted by, a twirl of cherry blossoms and the scent of lavender and plum.

“He is correct. In killing him you will kill yourself. You will kill me. Do you understand that? No uncertain future is worth the loss of your humanity, Kiriko. I will not allow this to happen. Please forgive me for intruding and forcing the choice upon you, but I see now that you can not handle the task yourself.” Hahaue's voice was so assured, so simple, so final. The words of a Mother giving an order. Parental imperative. Something she hadn't been subjected to in decades.

They stank of control.

Kiriko writhed, throwing herself bodily against the binding that held her in her place, but it would not budge. For all that she fought Aneue on a regular basis, for all their bloody battles – Kiriko had always come out on top. Eventually. But Hahaue, who had never before challenged her sovereignty, was proving herself to have reserves that even Kiriko couldn't topple.

WC: 907 | GP: 18 | Total GP: 68

A flash of white and then black.  His eyes refused to stay open, refuse to watch the woman he trusted with his loyalty and service, the woman he swore an oath to obey and serve, the woman whom he swore to defender as her Lieutenant.

He had felt the cold steel of a sword pierce him many times, and everything within him told the veteran that this blade would be coldest of them all, despite the burning vitriol within its wielder.

But it never came.

One moment there was a the rending of the air itself as her swing cleaved through the space between them and then… silence.  Nothing.  She didn’t retract, so didn’t falter, and neither did she miss.  Kiriko had just stopped, as motionless and permanent as a statue, blade suspended mid strike.

He could see the confusion and surprise in her eyes, a muted panic held in check by the body’s unwillingness to animate its despair.  Had he done something?  Had someone else?  His confusion, mixed with relief, rose to match her own.

Tokiyo stood up from his feeble attempt at blocking her strike and slid himself to the side of the ultimate destination his attacker had intended.  Regardless of her stasis, he wasn’t about stay put for the conclusion of what could have been a killing blow.  He eyed the door once, then returned his attention to Kiriko having thought better of abandoning her now, despite what had just happened.  He was too stubborn for that.  Besides, so was she.

Word count // 254 = 5 || 52