Beyond Swords

She slipped like a ghost through familiar places, wondering how they aged. Her map of this world was old. There were holes, things she'd forgotten or just things that had changed. Little places. Childhood memories. A tree that had died that she climbed as a child, a shop she once adored that had closed. Pieces of her life erased by time, not quite how she left it.

Things shifted.

There was a time she didn't care about this place. It meant nothing to her, but in her years without it had come to mean everything. There were so many things she took for granted. The existence of people, the length of life, the mere fact that she could know a person and they would still be there thirty or forty years down the line.

She'd had it and thrown it away, gotten stranded in a land of mayflies, because she thought there was something more. She thought striking out on her own in search of some legend, some destiny that only she could find, meant more than protecting all of this.

She just wanted to smack her past self's stupid head sometimes.

Here, this building, is where she'd abandoned her duty. This is where she'd forged her body like a blade, served her people, grew stronger and stronger until she just didn't care one day. She'd abandoned her comrades, broken battle-forged bonds of respect, to seek what would destroy her.

It had barely changed.

People were milling about, more pouring in by the minute. Excited whispers caught her ears but revealed little. She stood apart, appearance changed enough to gain nothing more than a curious glance or two, a far cry from the flowing blonde hair and jewelry of her Lieutenant days.

Someone pompous began to speak.

"...the full-fledged Captain..."

She couldn't see whose voice it was; there were too many bodies, too thick a crowd. It rang a faint bell.

"...challenge me? Are there any among you who oppose my command?"

She wondered if anyone would. The silence lasted for a beat, and then another. It felt like all their tongues were tied. Did he deserve this, whoever he was? Did he deserve to command faces she'd known as recruits, people who rose under her guiding hand?

Best find out.

"I will."

She separated from the shadow she'd stood in, pushed others aside, strode forward. She looked nothing like him, standing there in his neatly-pressed uniform. Nothing like any of them, grinning a devil's grin in her mortal's clothes. Nothing like any of them in the way she, without cowardice, stood proud and tall.

"Mayumi Tanaka, former Lieutenant of the Fifth."

The gasps only made her grin wider. Her eyebrows furrowed, though. She cocked her head.

"I... think we've met?"

460/9

The 4th's resident tigeroid had assumed a familiar stance in the crook of a nearby tree, lounging against it with one of his large legs dangling free from the heights. His claws tapped in sequence, slowly carving gouges into the bark. Cat-like eyes tracked the assembly of the 5th Division and the man he knew as Jasper, one of the Aizawa. An old family, and Jasper was an old name. In these days, the very structure of Soul Society seemed to be up for debate as all sides exerted their power and authority. His whisker's twitched slightly as he watched the procession.

Toratomo's official title as the 4th Seated officer of the 4th Division (a position several of the research team members had taken to calling 4th Squared, much to the officer himself's chagrin,) was Head of Invention Evaluation and Placement. The title was perhaps a bit fanciful; by an large, Toratomo's job was the head of something halfway between sales consultant and market research. He'd taken it as a reason to snoop and meddle in things more than anything, justifying any acts in the name of 'finding out the opportunities and necessities for the hand of the 4th' more than once. 

He did very little to render his acts of positive espionage in any way subtle. This was a conscious choice, as thought he was nearly ten-feet tall, and while this made him essentially unrivaled in size amongst the denizens of Soul Society, a tiger was a tiger, and he could hunt in silence if he wanted. There was no point though. 

This was why he was dangling form a tree, watching as the Aizawa made his play to to go from the Acting Captain to the acting Captain, a difference in punctuation making a world of difference in a way that some may not have understood. To a martial soul like Toratomo, it made the most perfect of sense. Commissions were not bought in the ranks of Shinigami, they were not even earned; they were taken.

And then there was a girl, a woman actually. Sad wonder bled off her as she approached, and resolve. Toratomo's eyes tracked her as his tongue idly slipped up across his face. He did not know here, though she seemed to know he who sought to officiate his place at the head of the 5th.

"Mayumi Tanaka, former Lieutenant of the Fifth."

Ah, well wasn't that a fascinating turn. Relatively young in both years, and actually in real terms of his service, such a person was totally unknown. Yet here she was, stepping to challenge the notable that was a scion of the Aizawa. A soft wind rolled though his fur and caused the frayed edges of his black robes to tickle at him. Distance voices whispered to him, all at once and never.

She is hunter
She treads soft
Power in her, much power.
And he.

He let out a low growl, silencing the many-faceted voices of Torashindaitai; the voices Tiger God Battalion faded into the breeze. There the tiger-man waited, and watched. His fingers stopped tapping, claws settling into the grooves they'd torn into the wood, eyes fixed on this scene.

And, as if a sense of the oddly melodramatic swept over him, the old romantic at heart bubbling to the surface as he persed his lips and blew, ever so softly letting a gust of wind flow past this newcomer, letting her garments flutter dramatically in the wind.

It was good, at least, for a smile. It was the least he could do to contribute to the august proceedings, after all.

WC: 601
GP: 12

“What!?” Nagisa blinked rapidly in surprise and looked up from the half eaten bowl of rice pudding. Apparently the Acting Captain had finally decided to become the Captain! Excitement flooded the young woman, and for, perhaps, the first time in history, Nagi’s thoughts were not focused on finishing her food before leaving the table. With three hasty scoops she shoved as much as she could into her cheeks before bolting over the table to join the masses of people that were rushing into the courtyard. Unceremoniously the young woman threw the badly cleaned bowl towards the stack of dirty dishes before opting to jump out of the window, seeing that the entry began to clog with people. Whilst opening her makeshift exit Nagi realized that already quite the crowd had gathered to bear witness to the impending speech of their leader. Damn. the Chinda thought, as the good places in the front row were already taken. I am not sure I can bully my way through that.

Are you interested in the best view, or in standing out? her Spirit wondered.

A bit of both, the Shinigami admitted and vaulted onto one of the lower roofs. With the Lightbringer finally ascending to the position of captain, there will be a lieutenant spot opening up.

You’re vying for it already? You barely joined!

Nagisa would have none of it. Onee-san became a Captain in record time and at a very young age. I have to become lieutenant if I want to have any hopes of catching up with her.

Catching up, or garnering her attention? The Chinda remained silent, prompting the Farseer to assume a position that exclaimed: I am right, am I not?

So what? Nagi finally replied: I came here because I miss her. I love her. And if becoming a Vice-Captain helps me in growing closer to her again, then that is what I’ll do.

Nagisa settled for standing on the roof opposite of where the Lightbringer would enter the field. The courtyard had grown so crowded, that a few others had chosen similar positions. Then the moment finally came, and with measured steps Jasper took the field. Challenge him? the Chinda furrowed her brows.

Don’t even think about it, you wouldn’t stand a chance. Upon sensing the dark shroud that threatened to taint the woman’s thinking the Farseer reluctantly added: Not yet. And with a mechanical voice she spouted words of which she wasn’t sure if she could truly endorse them. Follow the goals you’ve set. You’ve got to learn to walk before you can run...I’ll help you.

Then suddenly the flow of the event shifted. A woman parted the crowd with words spoken in confidence, a tall and proud smile on her face – her attire drawing nearly as much attention as the name she gave the crowd. Instantly the murmuring began, people mumbled, pointed at her, and Nagisa too wondered who that woman was. I don’t know that name, do you? The Spirit shook her head. Whoever she is, Nagi concluded: She is strong.

509/50=10

"I will."

Jasper was caught off guard by the woman's sudden appearance from the crowd. When he first caught a glimpse of this person who had yelled out her acceptance of the challenge, looking at her dressed in garbs not belonging to this world, he was nearly convinced that he was hallucinating. Had a ryoka truly entered the Seireitei without being detected at all? But when the woman continued to speak, things simultaneously became more clear but even more confusing.

Maya Tanaka, former Lieutenant of the Fifth.

Ah, yes. But at the same time, how?

Jasper had met this woman before, at a social function decades ago. They had likely exchanged titles and niceties before going on their separate ways--he didn't remember the details of that night at all. He had heard about her disappearance, the near absolute presumption of death the Sixth had made. He hadn't thought about her for years until the memory was sparked for a brief moment during his study of the numerous commanding and executive officers of the Fifth Division a few months ago. But even that record of her tenure was written like an obituary. Everything Jasper had read or seen about this woman, before this moment, pointed him to the conclusion that she was dead.

Yet, there she stood in front of him. Her presence felt similar to the one he had felt those years ago. This truly seemed to be Maya Tanaka.

At this realization, Jasper chuckled dryly.

"I don't have to inform you that you're a dead woman, do I?"

He shook his head. "No. Very well. Although your attire is...somewhat inappropriate, all evidence indicates that you are the Shinigami you claim to be, and I therefore owe you this challenge if you so desire it." He spoke with precise diction and an air of almost scholasticism when speaking. He wanted to make one thing clear to her, to everyone that was watching this battle. This division was becoming Jasper's. Gone were the days when men of the Fifth were considered hooligans, lunatics with swords, serving no purpose other than cero fodder. No. These men were becoming precise weapons of the Seireitei, able to harness their passion and focus it to become incredibly knowledgeable and powerful in combat.

If he won? The transformation of this division, and thereby the Seireitei, would continue. Everyone, especially his superiors, needed to know that.

Stirring with a quiet excitement, Jasper slowly withdrew his sword from the hilt upon his side, before resting the blade on the palm of his hands. A shining wakizashi, with a black "hilt" that was no more than a piece of wood. The asauchi. Perhaps the simplest tool in a Shinigami's arsenal, but for Jasper and many others, the most effective weapon they could ever hope to posses. 

"I accept your challenge, Tanaka. However, if you don't mind, I'd like to propose a small twist..."

With a slight movement of his hand, Jasper flipped the sword into the possession of his right hands before stretching his arms out in a position of offering.

"...only swords. No releases, no kidou, nothing of that sort. We shall only use the basics we learned our first day at the Academy. What do you think?"

Perhaps she would laugh at him. Perhaps she would say no. But Jasper believed this to be the best test of a soldier--their proficiency at their most basic tasks.

572

Kenshou was watching, Jasper grasping, asking for.... no demanding the division. A fight for the Fifth, any challenger could come at him. It seemed as the spark still lived of the fifth, maybe Jasper would make a fine captain. He had stayed quiet so long, so meek, taking nothing. Kenshou had wondered if the boy had the ability to become a true captain of the fifth. It was not something he could reward, it was something that had to be taken and here he was taking it for himself.

A former lieutenant, a Tanaka stepped forward and decided to accept the challenge. Some gasped, the woman had been missing and presumed dead for some time now. Unsurprising, fifth division members were rather resilient to death. The cruel mistress seemed to taunt them constantly, but never kissed them fully giving the sweet release.

Jasper seemed to accept, adding a twist onto the challenge, a personal favorite of Kenshou's, each combatant and their blades. Nothing more and nothing less than the elegant dance of blades, each strike, each parry told you more of your opponent then you could learn living with them for many years. It was a way to understand one another, to test resolves against one another. The outcome did not necessarily match the resolve, but the extent to which one would go would say it all.

Kenshou stepped forward, bringing his hand up to his mouth he coughed. He could feel the eyes turn to him. Pausing and letting the whispers grow, the Captain Commander in his old division. Many of these men and women had served under him. It had been his honor to lead them and now he was determined to see the best individual take those reigns and protect them like he had, someone willing to lay down their life, if only to give those in the divisions a few more moments to escape if it came to it.

"I think that's a perfect way to handle this, a personal favorite of my own even. I think that it is acceptable, whoever wins shall become my successor in the fifth. I expect much from such a person, so don't let me down now." Kenshou stepped back and looked at both fighters, it seemed that this would be entertaining to say the least. Neither seemed like they would back down easily, but he did not know if the bravado would falter once things got serious.

408 Total Words - 8 GP

Those few short words change everything. She'd been a shadow creeping through a world she didn't belong to; a husk of a whole soul, twisted, on the edges of things. Now she stands in the light, all eyes on her.

She is, just now, the center of the world.

It's quiet enough, in those handful of seconds, that they can hear her every breath. Ripples spread, a murmur of questions. Who is she? Who does she think she is, coming here? Isn't she supposed to be dead?

What's going on?

She stands in the center of chaos, draws strength from it, her smile never slipping. She was born for this, these moments. She doesn't know what'll come of it, where it'll go, but it doesn't matter. She's here. It's electrically charged, a moment that matters. It's balanced on knifepoint.

The knife's tipping down.

"Life can take us strange places, Aizawa." She'd never spoke truer words. "I'm here. I'm real enough for this. Later, maybe, let's swap stories."

Her smile ratcheted up a notch when he started talking about her outfit, looking down at it herself. "Really? You don't like it? They've gotten good at inventing things, you know, on Earth." Frail fingers fumbled with a leather snap, reached into the hole it opened. "Pockets." Pulled out a cigarette. "You should really upgrade."

Brief flame, deep breath, a long smoke trail. Almost elegant, before his next few words broke the spell, her laughter sent the white cylinder flying. When she eventually spoke, her voice started out rough.

"Is this what you've done?" There was something in her eyes, a kind of cold disappointment. "I see a lot of..." Her hands grasped for a word on the tip of her tongue. "Order here. Obedient people. Soldiers, maybe... Is that the word you use?" She snorted dismissively. "You're missing the point."

Her hand fell to the hilt of the unfamiliar sword at her hip. She almost fumbled the draw. "This is a tool." A few familiar strikes carved through the air, patterns that had been drilled into both of him. Her muscles were starting to sing. "A good tool." Not as fast as she'd been, maybe, but not useless. The awkwardness faded away. "But it won't solve every problem."

"What will you do when you run into a problem that can't be solved with a sword, would-be Captain?" She calmly, deliberately, put her sword away. "Don't be soldiers. Don't be slaves to order. You stagnate."

"If you--"

A cough, interrupting her. She turned, and--Kill him--Everything she hated, the reason for everything, the poison killing her people was walking right past her, recipient of the crowd's adoring gaze--Kill him killhimKILLHIM!--It had to show on her face.

No, don't do it. Not yet.

"--fight me, do it as a warrior, a real soldier, one that's seen battle."

Her tongue felt dead, her words felt leaden, stunned by the sudden face-to-face with her enemy.

"There are no rules in war."

But she had to win this one.

502/10 (19)

Ah, well wasn't that a fun little thing. The captain commander himself had shown, how curious indeed. This newcomer and her clothes, and the snark. The tiger could hardly contain himself. So many questions arose from the little things; her outfit, her appearance. That she'd been gone so long alone. Fascinating.

That look she'd given, too. She did not mean it to be seen, or perhaps she had simply been unable to hide it.

That required further information. For now though, he simply reveled in the fact she seemed to be enjoying this to the utmost. Where she had gone to, she was back now, and had wasted no time in upsetting the apple cart.

“She's hiding something,” he murmured to himself, adjusting his perch as he did. Something about her screamed higher purpose. It was intoxicating. Not romantic, not that hungry pit. Something more. She had the Will.

He had to meet her...

WC: 155

GP: 3 (15)

There were many rumors spread about the Second division. Stories about their dark-clad members who valued the mission above their own teammates. Annectodes about how new recruits should avoid doing anything that would get you interrogated by someone from the Second. Whispers about their death count, and those oh-so-secret missions with targets that would never be named. But above all else people gossiped about the omniscence of the Second and their Captain, a rumor that Kiriko encouraged whenever possible. Rumors, despite usually being exaggerated, have some seed of truth in them, and on this day the truth was obvious enough for anyone who wanted to look.

The name Tanaka Mayumi was not one that had been uttered for quite some time. Kiriko learned about it's usage a mere three minutes after it had been spoken in that crowded courtyard in the Fifth. It wasn't through any actual effort on her part, she had long ago ceased in her search for that particular answer – instead it was her informant in the Fifth who had scurried to tell her about Aizawa's ploy for Captaincy who just so happened to drop the name of his challenger.

Nevertheless, those precious rumors picked up the moment she made her appearance in this public place. Her cool stare enough to part the tightly packed masses as they scrambled to get out of her way. Watching the men push and shove each other she tried not to sneer, realizing inwardly that this had more to do with her own men and their recent complaints about her leadership than the Fifth's actual bravery. She knew how brave they were, after all Tanaka Mayumi was one of the best specimins of the Fifth, and here she was daring to return to a world that no longer needed her. To Chinda Kiriko's world.

Rumors seemed to follow Kiriko no matter where she went, but as her gaze pierced the crowd and pinned itself on that one lone figure so full of irritating hubris, people seemed to pick up the whispered storyline that was playing out here today. Some few Shinigami still remained that could remember Tanaka's leadership. Out of those, there were even a couple, more attentive than the rest, who could recall the somewhat open nature of Kiriko's relationship with Tanaka Mayumi.

Mayumi had never recognized it, not publicly, but Kiriko had been clear enough in the past. She at least wasn't so high and mighty as to hide her hatred. To find that the figure of her ire, the symbol of her pain and anger, was not only alive but messing around with her toys? It was not a pleasant surprise. Reigning in her reiatsu, holding it captive within her chest, Kiriko settled on the periphery, allowing the thick cloud of Shinigami to obscure her from the combatant's views. She didn't need to distract them right now, not when she was so busy studying this mysterious woman who claimed to be Kiriko's long lost rival. Picking her apart piece by piece. Kiriko frowned, not liking what she was seeing.

This was Tanaka? This was the woman who had thwarted and ignored Kiriko with such effortless ease? This tiny little sharp-tongued harpy? You better not lose Aizawa... If you do, there will be hell to pay, she swore to herself as the tension mounted.  

WC: 558 | GP: 11 | Total GP: 11

OOC Note: Observer position - no post order for me. (Not that there seems to be a post order here anyway.)

She couldn't see the evil behind Kenshou's eyes.

It's a thing that would cause panic in anyone else, the fact that their ultimate evil appeared benevolent. Doubts would creep in. Maybe they were wrong, they'd think. Maybe everything had gotten out of hand and this perfectly normal man was nothing fearsome, some other explanation was out there waiting to be found. They'd step back from the precipice of holy war and reconsider.

Other people, those accustomed to doubting themselves, would reconsider.

For her, though--the problem, see--is that accepting the premise, accepting Erasmus's gospel as true and inviolate... well, it came with its own unwelcome set of implications.

If the evil is there it can be anywhere. If one set of innocent eyes can hide a demon then all of them can. If this Vaizard poison is truly undetectable, if it was not merely shocking idiocy and naiveté that brought her people so close to their unwitting doom, then...

How many pairs of innocent eyes were just like his?

How many people looking at her right now were just like him?

She forced a sick smile as the would-be Captain's words washed over her. No time for laughter now, though she'd have found humor there another day. No time to waste making a mockery of him, just time enough to tell the truth.

"Hollows aren't dangerous." Shocked gasps erupt from parts of the crowd. "Well, really." Chiding, scolding. "They're not. Come on, they're not. If you die to one of them it's really your own damn fault." More exclamations, muffled shouts and sobs from those who must have lost close friends. "Hey," the utterance meant to catch his attention, her eyes meeting his again. "What kind of weaklings have you turned them into?"

"You said it," before he could object. "They're animals."

"Animals don't show mercy because they can't. They also don't show intelligence. They don't show planning. They don't show skill. Fighting Hollows isn't war, it's..." she cast about for the word. "Sport." Her scowl hardened. "Pest control."

In the distance, a voice murmured: "Hunting." That scowl turned into the ghost of a smile.

"If you think fighting against mindless beasts is all there is to war, you'll lose the first time you run into something that can rub two brain cells together."

There it was, that confidence. Shaken some, by Vaizards and other things, but never lost.

"Just like you'll lose against me."

All of the world, all of those countless watching eyes and whatever hid behind them, faded away in her mind. There was only the two of them, only the fight, only the pleasure, testing herself against steel and flesh.

"Tell you what, though."

Her hand found the hilt of her sword and grasped it firmly, pulling it from its sheath. It still felt strange in her hand; better than nothing by far, but not what it should be, not the right length or shape. Not the right voice in her mind.

"We'll keep things simple at first, if that's all you can take."

She swung the blade through the air once or twice to get a feel for it; no substitute for years of practice, but better than nothing. Enough for this. She took a deep breath once, twice. Three times. Looked at him.

Nodded.

Charged, sword headed for his neck.

555/11 (30)

A charge? Certainly a basic opening. Not what Jasper would have done with a seasoned opponent. But the woman had said she would start simple. He responded with ease. Instinctively, he took a quick step to the side and swung his body out. Her attack was a significantly mitigated threat. She had certainly meant it when she had said simple.

He twisted his hilt into the palm of his hand, gripping it until his knuckles turned white. For a simple attack, she would receive a simple counterattack. Jasper swung out wide in front of Maya, sword at his side, ready to swing. With a quick movement, he brought his weapon out in a wide arc, smashing it directly into her sword. He immediately withdrew, sliding the sword off of hers and taking a combative stance but a few feet from Maya. He stayed light on his feet, bouncing, to maintain momentum and dodge at a moment's notice. Jasper's sword swung in unconscious arcs, independent of his own thought. The basics of swordfighting were not something that required effort on Jasper's part. It was so much a part of him, being ready to swordfight was just a different state of being.

"Obviously, Tanaka, you've never met the deadlier hollow breed on the battlefield." He abruptly shifted his weight forward, bringing his sword ever so slightly up, before recovering. An easy feint. He didn't expect her to fall for it; he was simply setting the tone.

"You're really attempting to tell me, and everyone else here, that Arrancar aren't intelligent beings? That they aren't among the most deadly beings in existence? There's a point where pride turns to stupidity, Tanaka. All of the Hollow breed are slaves to baser needs, but that doesn't mean a Cero fired from the hands of an Espada won't kill you." Jasper followed up his condemnation of her with a quick slash aimed a few feet away from her. Once again, just a taunt more than anything. Combat may have officially begun, but the battle hadn't even started yet.

"You might think you have the power to defeat me, Tanaka. But regardless of whether you do or not, your arrogance will be your downfall." Another insult. Another attack. Jasper took an almost playful stab at her, nonchalantly bringing his sword up and aloofly jabbing the tip of his sword forward.

But it was time to stop playing around.

Jasper's gaze turned intense. He brought his sword over his head before swinging it and his body forcefully down, attempting to slash her chest. "I've fought in countless battles, and in many wars..." Still low to the ground, Jasper deftly threw the hilt of his sword from his right hand to his left. The joys of being ambidextrous, he dryly mused to himself before having his sword travel the same way it did down, up. "And all of those fights have one thing in common..." He recovered in the slash of an instant, making the sword parallel with his shoulder before slashing out at her neck.

"The person-" Jasper growled out, as he stepped forward and jabbed at Maya's neck with a focused but highly intense ferocity.

"Who underestimates-" he yelped as he shifted his weight, side-stepped, and cut at her side.

"Their opponent-" Jasper bellowed as he took a step back, channeling his reishi through his body into his sword, feeling it grow dense and heavy with the energy.

"Loses!" He roared as he threw his first, true attack at her. Dense and heavy, he jabbed his sword straight at her heart. No holding back.

595

It started off softly. Whispers of fabric against flesh, feet pounding against hard-packed ground. Whispered words. It didn't last. The crowd's intensity grew as the two figures moved closer, seconds from collision, seconds from spilling blood. Bated breath exploded into unrestrained wordless expression, shouting a name or goal or just nothing, just sound. The world filled with sound. Steel against steel, steel against flesh, the harsh exhalations of bloodlust. The crowd cheered.

Today was a special pleasure for most. An unusual but treasured event, seeing their peers fight, seeing power and prowess without the danger that came with the need for it. Soldiers rarely get to see the form their betters, to appreciate their martial might. They are too busy dying.

In Seireitei if not other places, combat is rarely a spectator sport.

In the eyes of those spectators, the challenger was losing. Perhaps not an unexpected outcome. He was, after all, their acting Captain. Their stalwart leader, glorious and shining. Even if there was resentment amongst the ranks, there had to be at least a grudging respect for his power, or else there would have been other challengers. They cheered for him. They jeered for her, this unknown upstart in the minds of most, this ragged foreign entity daring to trespass here and speak to them this way.

Some remembered. Some. Even then the stark disparity between memory and fact led to scorn and disbelief. Besides, how could this be Mayumi?

She was losing.

The sword in her hands moved like a stranger. She hadn't trained. The weight was wrong, it was just wrong, it didn't flow fast enough. It lagged in the air and it was easier to blame it than her. It made a good alibi, because of course he couldn't just be better.

That would be ridiculous.

It hurt to even hang on to the blade against his sharp impacts. There was power behind his strikes even if there wasn't truth behind his words. The fool, thinking he knew anything. She'd clawed herself back from an exile worse than death. She, only she, had discovered the poison at Seireitei's heart and prepared to lance it. Nothing would be her downfall. She'd only fallen once, and she'd managed to stand back up.

She was Tanaka.

Who the hell was he?

Her mouth opened, but words were forced from her in steel's furious onslaught. The only noise was the clash of blades. Her wrist felt like it was tearing from its socket. Each deflection came slower; there, to protect her side; there, too late to prevent a ribbon of pain; there--

The crowd reacted with silence, unsure whether they should cheer. This is not how it's supposed to go, is it, in a clash of titans? Things are meant to be fiery and showful, bombastic, each countering the other. Not sword piercing flesh. Not blood dripping down. The metal has impaled her inches from the heart.

There is a noise in her throat. A death-rattle?

The world listens.

His breath, hard, faintly shocked. Theirs, feeling any number of things. The wind. Blood pouring in a steady stream, its muted impact with the ground.

Her laughter.

Bright blue eyes reopen, her head snaps up. She stares at her would-be killer and can't keep the grin off her face. It's far from the look of someone dying.

"You're right."

Not even close to the look of someone beaten.

Her arm snaps up and grabs his sword by the blade. More blood spills from her palm but she doesn't notice, her smile widens.

"Is that all you've got?"

She pulls. Gore explodes from her, a steady stream pouring down her side and arm as the initial spray subsides, the blade leaves its new-formed cavity. It's already slowing as the gout of red colors her jacket and her sword, its imperfections directing the flow of it. She discards the coat, shrugs out of it, directs a pulse of power to her bloodstained weapon.

The stream pulses like a beating heart.

It freezes, becomes a cohesive whole.

The wound closes.

Blood rears up, peels off the sword, rises up from the ground. It forms a tail that curls around her arm like a pet, like a newborn lover. It stares with newly-open eyes. It's hungry.

Fangs descend, a forked tongue hissing.

It strikes.
 
720/14 (44) - using Regeneration and Somaturgy: Sanguis

The sword hit its mark perfectly. He couldn't have asked for a better strike. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, expecting to feel the weight of her body push his sword down.

But all he heard was laughter.

His eyes opened. Jasper was confused. The girl was supposed to be very close to death right now, but instead she stood steady on her own two feet, grinning and laughing, with his sword still lodged deep within her. This didn't make any sense. How had she managed this?

"How are you still alive..." These quiet words were mumbled by Jasper as he attempted to bring some form of sense to this situation. But she just kept laughing until she paused for a moment to say two words: you're right. Jasper was about to question what she meant before he saw the wound inflicted explode with blood and gore.

Instantly, Jasper withdrew his sword from her body as he looked at how the wound he left had become a completely empty cavity, as if someone had surgically dug a hole into Maya's body. It remained empty for a second, just long enough so that Jasper could quickly inspect it, before it began to become filled again, blood flowing out of the wound in a steady stream. After a few moments, it finally stopped. And the wound was healed.

Jasper had not even made a dent.

His heart was telling him to panic. Jasper had not expected to fight an opponent that held an ability that he had only heard rumors of a talented few Arrancar having: regeneration. He had thrown a powerful attack at her, and after a few moments, she had negated an attack which would have killed another man. But that wasn't the end of it. From the puddle of blood that lay below her spawns a figure, at first just an amorphous blob that wraps around Maya's arm. However as it does, it grows definition. Edges. Curves. Eyes. Scales. Fangs. A snake formed from her own bodily fluids. A sanguine serpent.

It hisses, and as it slithers, coiling up to strike, Jasper realized the irony in his last statement. He warned the Tanaka not to underestimate her opponents, when he had so obviously underestimated her. Without further hesitation, the blood beast snapped at him.

Jasper's hands instantly went for his sword. With the beast going straight as his face, he didn't have time to dodge. His sword flew up at an angle, gripped with both hands and heavy with reishi to attempt to keep the snake from hitting its mark. It clashed against his sword, forcing Jasper to use the entirety of his weight against the powerful being. It was clear that he was fighting a losing battle with this being. All he could do was mitigate the damage. Grunting against the weight, with snake biting against his sword, Jasper was able to maneuver his sword to his chest before the serpent broke free and bit him.

Jasper quietly groaned in pain as the wound began to sting. He put his off hand on the bite. It had certainly drawn blood and gone quite deep, but it was nothing that required immediate medical attention. A nuisance that would disappear in the thick of the fight. Despite what the first round of the fight may have seemed to show, this would not be an easily won fight with Jasper setting the tone. It was going to be a slugfest, Jasper was almost sure. Whoever could stand up the longest would win.

"Interesting technique, Tanaka," Jasper said through gritted teeth, "never knew you had such an affinity for your own blood."

Jasper took a few steps away from the woman, resuming his combative posture. "I'm sure you'll get see more of it." 

Without hesitation, Jasper used one of the few other tricks up his sleeve. Jasper focused on the light around them, quickly infusing the photons with his reishi. With his mental command, the reishi-light particles were drawn into his sword, turning the area around the fighters completely dark for half a second, before letting the light quickly come back--as if he had switched a lightbulb on and off in a dark room. Maya would no doubt be dazed by the attack for a short amount of time, and in that advantageous moment, Jasper lifted his sword, brought it parallel with the woman's neck, and slashed.

741

Its job done, the serpent falls apart, drenching the ground with congealed remnants of her. An ordinary day, in Maya's life. The pure shock and horror on her opponent's face gives her pause, though. She wouldn't react that way. Surprise, yes, maybe, but he acts as if the rug has been pulled out from under his world. Should he not be prepared for anything? Is expecting the rules to break at any given moment not part and parcel of becoming a warrior?

How far has she strayed from her people, that this casual display seems so impossible?

She drifts back a few steps, pensive, her sword trailing. The wise thing, perhaps, would be to attack. Wouldn't be hard to take advantage of his momentary lapse, send a blade deeper than those bloodborn fangs had managed. She doesn't, though. The distance between them reopens, her only contribution to his surprise and agony a tink as her loosely held sword impacts one of the rocks strewn about the battlefield.

Eventually--long seconds later in which she could have taken his life--he turns back to her.

Hasn't learned much, though.

Still thinking too small, still not considering.

Why is she there, Jasper? Why is she waiting for you? Do you have her off-guard, or is she choosing her moment?

"Not blood," come the words just as her eyes come alive because he's finally done something unexpected. Power curls around his sword before her vision's sucked from her. She answers with a pulse of power of her own.

The rock unfolds in the dark.

They hear of it before they see anything, a clang not of metal against metal, not of metal sinking into flesh, but of it biting into stone. Where a woman stood now stands a man-shaped monolith of mineral, left arm in front protectively. The blade has almost, not quite, severed it at the wrist.

"I have an affinity for everything."

She's safely behind it, eclipsed by its bulk, favoring again her unfamiliar blade. There is something else lurking behind dusty memories of repetitive strikes, muscle strain, old training injuries. Her eyes snap open. She looks at the blade, wondering.

It's a thing she's not tried to do in decades. She's had no cause to hold a blade; it would be sacrosanct, replacing her lover. She hates that she's done it now, but there was no other choice she could live with. Blue energy, pure reishi, flickers at the edges of her memory.

At the edges of her fingertips.

Something in her twists and the blade alights. It moves quicker now, freer, and her very soul's lighter because this is almost what she remembers, though something doesn't feel right. There's a pushing.

It's almost like she doesn't need a blade at all.

460/9 (53) - using Somaturgy: Imago (70/55/100/25) and activating Kusatta Seishinken (Basic).

Things appeared to be heating up at a rapid pace now. Aizawa had accepted the challenge of the strange woman without so much as wasting a breath, and as was fitting for someone who sought to lead the fifth he decided that it would be a battle between their blades alone. Excitement entered the pale blue eyes and Nagisa leaned forwards as if it would help her see better. For the first time in her life she would see two beings of the highest caliber go at it with the desire to prove the value of their convictions. Then, just as it already seemed to be too good to be true, the Flash God himself made his presence known. “Wow!,” it escaped Nagi and she drank in what she saw. Kenshou Ine was a small man compared to the like of the Lightbringer or even Yuudai, his messy brown hair and laid-back attitude gave him a disheveled touch that stood in stark contrast with the strength of his Reiatsu – and the fame of his name. So this is a living legend, the Captain Commander. Having never seen the man the Chinda was not sure what to think, yet the fact that even he had shown up only stressed the importance of the situation.

That’s quite something though. the Farseer said

What do you mean? inquired Nagisa.

A mysterious woman appears that only a handful of people seem to know – or better, remember. She is wearing a mortal’s clothing, and yet despite all the questions her presence posts the Captain Commander sanctifies the challenge. The ominous Spirit rubbed her chin. Interesting.

Peculiar? offered the young Chinda and caused the woman to smile.

“We are soldiers.”

Yes, soldiers. That was exactly what the tall man had told her not too long ago within the confines of his office. Since then quite some time has passed in which Nagisa had risked her life time and time again – mostly under his orders too – yet still she struggled to grasp the full meaning of the word, failed to recall with how much vigor and splendor the Lightbringer had championed the term. I probably am a lousy soldier, the young woman reflected. She had not joined the Gotei out of noble ideas. Her own convictions could not hope to stand before the burning light of the Aizawa. All she wanted was Kiriko. Now.

Focus!

Whether it had been the Farseer or herself that had called her to attention Nagisa could not say, but while she had drifted off the world had not waited. Jasper and Maya had engaged in combat, were trading blows with their blades. The younger Chinda admired their footwork, their form, but also came to realize that the dance had lost much of its mystic compared to the first time she had picked up a weapon. No, that’s not quite true. Nagi realized. It’s changed, but is in no way less fascinating. Steel met steel as the opponents struggled. But unlike before I finally see, finally know where the swords will strike. Was this a sign that she neared mastery of this skill? In any case it was exciting.

She is not doing well at all. Nagisa noticed after an instant. That’s…peculiar? I…I have the feeling there should be more.

With a lightning fast strike the acting Captain bypassed the stranger’s guard, drawing blood. No, not drawing, but causing it to flow and pour out of her in crimson torrents. Over already? Then Chinda’s breath stopped for a moment. She’s just getting started. In an action most perverse the strange woman sucked her blood back in, closed up the wounds before seemingly giving life with her own. A viper formed out of the red, causing Nagi to blink in confusion. This was no Hado she knew. Were Shinigami even supposed to be able to do something like that? Even the Lightbringer seemed taken aback, and then he was bitten. What?

From one moment to another the tides had seemingly turned and the flow of combat begun to favor the stranger.That was, until the Lightbringer took it away. For but a single heartbeat the combatants were bathed in complete darkness, to thick to see anything, and seemingly even shrouding the two from Nagisa’s Reiatsu perception. Woa!

The sound of metal scraping over stone echoed into the distance and caught Nagi to raise an eyebrow. How could that have happened? Yet when sight returned it revealed that Maya Tanaka, the Witch, had created life not only from her blood, but given it to solid stone. How? How? How? In recent weeks the Chinda had seen a variety of odd talents and tricks from a variety of people, but never had she seen something as variable as this – let alone the skillfulness that was evident in the stranger’s execution.

Sudden realization hit her. Amongst her peers Nagisa might be a prodigy, but in a real fight there were still leagues and miles that separated her from the rest. In the big game of life she wasn’t even a player to them. In frustration the woman grit her teeth. How was she ever supposed to become one worthy of Onee-san’s love when she was still stuck at the bottom of the barrel?! A new look appeared on the Chinda’s face, one that was cold and calculating.

Nagisa? the Farseer chimed in, having seen such intense focus from her Shinigami only seldom before.

But Nagisa wouldn’t listen, couldn’t. She had spent hours, days, months and years on learning how to fight…now it was time to learn how to kill.

931/50=18; 28

Jasper's sword met something in the dark. For a split second he surmised it might have been Tanaka herself. But what he had struck was hard. Harder than any Shinigami could naturally be. His eyes were focused on his sword as the light returned to the space around him. His sword was lodged deep in an arm, but there was no blood. Jasper could see the figure of what he had struck. It was a man, but it wasn't. The rough edges of a person were there, but they were truly rough. Jasper followed its figure up to where a face should have been--but where only a smooth rock lay.

A golem.

Like the legends of old, a man made of rock lay before him. Of course, he knew enough to see that it had been spawned by the Tanaka's own reishi. Nothing mythical about it. However, the fact that Jasper's sword hadn't punched through showed that for what it lacked in non-existence, it made up for in its sturdiness. Jasper withdrew his sword from the animated being, taking a few steps back. His cut had ended up going quite deep, looking at it now. Indeed, the golem could probably be dispatched with another hit.

He grimaced as he took a few steps back, charging his attack. Maya was still playing games with him, showing him her tricks. It was clear that she still had more up her sleeve. Perhaps there had been truth in her words earlier. She had achieved a wide variety of skills through harmony with her inner spirit, and Jasper was pushing the limits of his skillset.

The good thing about swordfighting, however, was that improvisation was encouraged. While Maya might have to spend months, perhaps even years, perfecting her techniques, Jasper's mastery of the fighting style permitted him only to be limited by his own imagination.

With a quick upward slash, Jasper struck the golem. Without looking, he knew it to be decommissioned. He immediately side-stepped around it, facing Maya once more.

"Interesting move, Tanaka. But I really doubt you have an affinity for everything." More banter, but he meant his words. She couldn't keep pulling tricks out of a hat. When would Jasper push her limits, make her start having to rely on more than just her silly powers? She would have to get tired at some point--she was undoubtedly using more energy than he was. Would this simply be a waiting game for Jasper? Was the key to winning simply wearing her out? 

No more hesitation as soon as he spoke those words, however. Reishi flowed down into the sword once more. Quick step forward, putting their bodies close to each other. His zanpakuto flew in a tight arc, inches away from Jasper's torso, coming toward her neck.

Let's see her dodge this one.

473

In another life, another time, the shattering of stone might have upset her. It's her creation, after all, her newly minted golem hero that rose to meet the day and now lies slain, a pile of broken gravel. It was dispatched as easily as her, minutes earlier, when his sword slid through her skin and out the other side. Unlike her flesh, the stone does not knit back together. Its pieces stay in place, inert, dead.

His victory seems decisive, though the grin pulling at her lips should make him question it. It's not about him, though. It's not the prelude to a kamekaze attack or any kind of false ploy, just happiness. Just that she hasn't won yet. The battle's still going.

Most people wouldn't like that. Fighting for their lives makes them panic, scared, shivering in the aftermath for days and jumping at shadows, nervous wretched wrecks. Even if they're hardened to it, they're worried for themselves. Maybe they have someone at home, waiting. Maybe they're wondering if today's the day a wife becomes a widow, a son grows up alone, because they're getting older and they miss a step. It's a dance, each action has consequences unless you're her.

She's not sure she can ever die.

It's an energetic trading of blows. A happy kind of motion, one she never thought she could lose even before she was invincible. It's not in her blood to worry about other people. None of them are here, anyway. None of the ones she cares about. They might not be anywhere, might be stuck in the past, and why deal with that?

Why even think about it, when she can stay here forever?

This place of muscles meeting, this simple place of steel and magic and swords. Clashing blades. Nothing complicated. No hard truths of decades passing and her home turning into something else. No knowing that no one's cheering for her. No caring that she's unloved.

Just this.

She's smiling because this doesn't have to end yet. For another couple moments, at least, this is her world.

There's no sadness in her when her blade tugs down, almost independently, to prod the rubble pile. A voice whispers. It tells her a word, it grins without eyes. It stares with holes.

It tells her to say
 

"Shatter."

And she does.

There's a cloning, a shifting, a part where souls diverge. She's seeing double. Different sights from two sets of eyes, different thoughts, each with their own kind of familiarity. Each staring at the other with longing, with revulsion, depending on which of them it is.

"Am I really--"

 
"Was I really so--"

One is as she was, red-haired, dark-clothed, clutching an empty hilt. A drop of quicksilver, a remnant of the vanished blade, falls to the ground. Her eyes are wide.
 

The other is as she was, years ago. Lighter clothes, fancy and flowing. Elegant. Hair longer but bound, not spiky and hideous. A figure some remember.

A figure with a sword.

 
She's only seen it in dreams but there it is, again, in front of her. Her Zanpakuto. Hers. The real sword, the part of her gone missing, not this cumbersome mockery she thoughtlessly discards, hilt clanging on a rock. She has to watch her doppelganger draw it, watch that look of ecstatic communion as it melts away, rolls up her flesh. Something in her twists and clenches and there's something like a sword in her hand, too. A blue immaterial echo of the blade she'll never claim again.

It's not like it felt the same. It wasn't real. It lacked the same weight, lacked the reassuring voice in her head that would tell her anything, everything she wanted to hear. That made her feel like she didn't need anything else, just his love. His patience. His happiness just to look at her.

That was gone, and what was left was a memory.

Real enough for this, though, as it sprung up and met Jasper Stone-Shatterer's blade head-on. Real enough to hold as she pressed herself closer to him, drawing the blades vertical, faces inches from eachother.

"You forgot something," she said, panting, faintly lit by a blue glow. "Your own advice, you know? You said it all the way back before you spilled my blood." The intensifying light began to blind. "You remember?" She closed her eyes and flung herself back, sizzling discharge inches from her cheek.

"Don't--"
 

and they spoke in unison

the second-her, the ghost, lowering her wrist-mounted bow.

"--underestimate me."

 
754/15 (68)
 
Mechanical breakdown:
Action 1: Activate Shikai, create Mayumi shatterling, release bonus is applied.
Non-Action: Slide Basic Kusatta Seishinken up to Intermediate.
Action 2: Block Zanjutsu attack with Spirit Sword (Advanced, 145/130)
Clone's Action: Attack with Spirit Arrow (Advanced, 190/130)
 
Ask me if any other details are needed. I had a hard time writing this post and I appreciate the patience.

The smile again. Did this woman ever stop smiling in combat?

As the rock crumbled, she kept smiling. As Jasper charged at her with his sword, she kept smiling. Why the hell did she keep grinning? Did she think this was fun? Jasper found no joy in his heart as he continued his attack, continuing to move his blade in an upward slash as he dashed at her, hoping that she was done with her tricks.

She wasn't.

Jasper looked up as he continued his attack. He had to see if she had wiped that stupid grin off her face yet. She had, but the seemingly static expression was replaced by the movement of her lips. Maya had spoken, perhaps quietly, but she had spoken. Was she speaking to him? Jasper's own lips spread apart, his mouth slightly agape in surprise. His mind was filled with more questions about the woman's motivations, her actions--but it ran blank as soon as he started seeing the split.

It happened quickly. Two beings formed out of one. One, neat and proper, adorned in the robes of the nobility. The other, the Tanaka, seemingly unchanged except in the sword she wielded. As Jasper felt the reishi stream out of the pair, each distinct yet the same, it was clear what had happened. This was her Shikai. Perhaps a representation of the bifurcation of her soul, manifest.

Big words, that annoying, mocking, sultry voice purred out in his head. Jasper ignored the spirit as he continued to analyze his target, his sword predictably slamming into one of the clones'. He looked into her almost mocking eyes, barely inches away, as her sword began to emit a blindingly blue light. The Tanaka--or at least, a replica--criticized him once again for not taking his own advice. Jasper was very much ready to admit at this point that she was right.

Jasper pulled away. Cursing, he used his power over light to push the blinding emissions away from his eyes. It was not an easy task--her reishi, inherently infused into it, was powerful, heavy. By the time he had cleared the danger, he saw another threat looming--an arrow, about to be launched from a wristbound bow wielded by the other clone. No breaks today.

A split second's anticipation barely gave him an edge upon the attack. He could only thrust his sword up to catch it mid-air, to perhaps slow its velocity and maybe change its direction. But there was simply was no stopping it. Muscles habitually contracted as the bolt of energy pierced his side, creating yet another hole in his torso. Air found its way out of Jasper's lungs in short, strained exhalations. He slammed his free hand onto the wound, trying desperately to stop the bleeding, to stop the pain. But it was unbearable this time. Too many wounds. He had to rest, if but for a moment.

He took a knee, head bowed.

The fight had fundamentally changed. It was two versus one now. Three versus one, if you counted the obvious co-operation of Tanaka's inner spirit. This entire fight, after blows had been traded, Jasper thought she wouldn't have another trick up her sleeve. His strategy had been one of attrition--if he could wear her out, last longer, he would emerge victorious. That idea, obviously, was no longer viable.

How could you defeat an opponent that might have seemed easily overcomable, but could completely outclass you when it came to breadth? Vertically subordinate, but laterally superior? She had mastered many forms of combat, while Jasper had only perfected one. In this fight, there was only him and his stupid sword.

No. There was only him.

Oh, he saw the truth now. It was as if a light had been turned on within Jasper's mind, but more than that. It was a transformation of subconscious knowledge into his mind. He saw the truth that had been there all along.

Jasper had heard it from those who taught him, and told it to those who he had thought: "your sword is a part of you." But the phrase had always just been some words thrown together until now, nothing more than a metaphor. They weren't, though. Those words were representations of an absolute truth, if not halfway incomplete.

Your sword is a part of you, and you are a part of your sword. As soon as you dedicate a part of your life to learning about and living by something, it becomes a part of you. Jasper was beginning to understand--the world bends to the will of the mind, and the mind that accepted itself wholly was the strongest. He had accepted the truth behind his sword; it was time to put that understanding into action.

As Jasper rose off of his knee, the pain was still there, but it was put in the back of his mind for now. If he could maintain a clear, focused mind for just a few moments, he could come out of this victorious. His eyes fell onto his sword for a few moments, as he inspected it. If Jasper's sword was truly a part of him, and he a part of his sword, then that had to mean his sword could change its form.

It did. Without even a thought, the sword had changed. It remained the same in appearance, but it was lighter, easier to hold in hand, but even sharper.

Yet Jasper knew that wasn't all. He could manipulate reishi, and therefore...

The zanpakuto began to emit more radiation. It started as a simple glow at first, adding to the natural light surrounding his sword. But it grew, quickly, until reishi began to flame out of his sword. White fire.

Sword and man inexorably changed into one, Jasper looked down at the woman, split in two. It was finally time to end this.

Jasper didn't need to charge at her. With a single step, he launched himself off the ground, towards the Tanaka he had started this fight against. As he reached her, his sword, now more akin to a body part than anything else, stretched far out to his side. It was light now, reishi deprived so it could travel faster. But as Jasper brought it in an uncalculated, yet deadly precise arc, he let his sword explode. Beyond the contours of metal which had once defined it. Beyond the mental barriers of combat that had pervaded his mind. Flaming, burning with power, he swung at the Tanaka in what would, regardless of the outcome, be his last strike of the battle.

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