A Night At the Opera [Closed | Hanabi | Souta Suzuki]

Looking up from beneath her eyelashes, Hanabi tried to sink deeper into the shadows of the wall she was oh so casually leaning against. She had been the first to arrive, no surprise since she had come half an hour early, eager to be out of her room on any plausible excuse just to avoid those staring empty windows and the blankness of her reports. This late in the day there was a certain stillness to the world of the Seireitei, everyone busy away at their desks and all the streets hushed with held breath. It was like a pregnant pause, the inhalation that came before the first strike, and the silence was deeper than ever around the Fourth's headquarters.

It was a contemplative quiet, and she hated to have that loneliness stirred up by the trod of heavy feet. But fate was not something to control, nor could Hanabi chose what was to happen around her. She should focus on the happiness of knowing she had been chosen for this mission. That Muhle-sensei had selected her on her merits, her particular skill with Hado. The flush of pride was an acceptable emotion, something to cherish while standing still in this whirling world that would rip away all else.

It was her silent contemplation that made the rest of the students dislike her. As if in silence she was judging them. If only then knew that it was in silence that she took her refuge, her thoughts far away from their petty issues. She would have traded anything to go back to the life of a normal Academy Student, except perhaps not truly everything. Not after the lesson she had been given about naivety and willful ignorance. If Kiriko was good at one thing it was ensuring that her lessons would stick, not because they were horrible or utterly painful, but because they were always framed in a way that the student could not ignore. She wanted to obey because it was within her nature, not because it had been posed as a lesson from that horrible monster.

A shade of thicker shadow slipped across her feet, two wide cylinders coalescing into a bumpy hill that crept up her ankles until settling at her knees. Quiet eyes lifted, breath caught up in her lungs as she tried her hardest to portray nothing but coolness. She was nothing, and in nothingness there was no emotion. No fear. No desire. These children were not her friends. Would never be her friends. So who cared if they disliked her?

Yunokawa-senpai and Katso-senpai stood so close together that their bodies seemed one solid mass of flesh as they laughed, the shrill pecking of mockery. She made herself flat and empty like a mirror, their words splashing off her edges without even a second of recognition. Kawakami-san's arrival muted whatever secret enjoyment the two older students had held at Hanabi's expense, and soon it was silent again except for carefully calculated sneers and Kawakami's nearly noiseless breathing. Into the void came Moskvin-sempai, running full tilt to make it in time and hastily arranging his collar while Yunokawa-sempai giggled into her painted nails. Temko-san seemed to appear from thin air, one second there was only five and the next he was standing at the periphery and hesitantly edging closer.

Hanabi listened to the group's chatter, trying not to think about anything unnecessary. She ran over their instructions again to calm her nerves, certain that she had done her best to prepare. Her uniform was neatly pressed and starched, all edges perfectly positioned. The sword at her side was her true zanpakutou, ornate nagimaki in all its glittering glory. She would have taken her practice sword, which was easier to wield in battle, if it wasn't for the last few weeks of classes that had been focusing on drawing out her inner spirit and forming a Shikai. Hanabi was lagging behind the rest of her classmates so far in that area, despite her zanpakutou taking on its own unique form already and Hinata-shishou clopping around in her head like a gilded butterfly. Yunokawa-sempai couldn't say the same about her own asauchi, which sat empty and unembellished at her hip, though the others were at least far enough along to claim a sword fashioned in their own souls.

Pushing to stand at attention as their newest teacher appeared over the horizon, Hanabi tried to quiet the self doubts that clouded her mind. Today she needed to be calculating and calm. Competition with her classmates was useless. It only served her own vanity, and there was no benefit to that. She competed on a totally different track than they did, and that was all there was to it. Little things like who was better at what subject or who liked who shouldn't cross her thoughts. Distractions would only weaken her performance today.

Spring-cool hands pressed against her eye sockets, dove-like fingertips an ice cold pressure against her corneas as Hinata-shishou's full bosom pressed against Hanabi's back. Long black tendrils of hair slipped across her shoulder and cheek like lengths of jasmine perfumed silk as the comfortable weight pressed into the center of her spine. Inhaling softly, one long deep gasp for flowered air, Hanabi pushed off the balls of her feet as she followed Muhle-sensei towards the Senkaimon. Hinata was always right about these things. Rather than worry, she need only exist. In being present all thigns would reveal themselves and either it would work out or it wouldn't. But blinding her eyes to the truth of the matter would only make her sloppier.

Stepping through the Senkaimon she was unable to resist that heart-racing pinch of hope that sliced through her stomach the moment the portal peeled away before her. She had gone through this so many times before, traveling to the Dangai with that creature, but even so Hanabi couldn't help the desperate wish that the destination would be home one of these days.

Australia, it turns out, was hot and humid --- nothing like the frigid expanse of lake she was hoping to find herself at. Steeling away the loss in her eyes, Hanabi hastened her step to keep apace the other students. Muttering along with the rest of them as they assented to Muhle-sensei's orders and instructions. Thoughts whirring, she paused momentarily, unsure if she was a fool for not knowing the answer to her own questions. Kiriko would have scoffed at her for asking, but it was better to air any doubts before getting into mortal danger, wasn't it? She couldn't simply hide her confusion if it might mean getting other people into danger later, could she?

Eyes up to scan the area, Hanabi let her path cross closer to Muhle-sensei so that her quiet query wouldn't draw as much attention from her peers as it otherwise might. “Sir, how do you know what the disturbance will be? Are there specific sensory machines or tracking kidou that we will use to conclude who we are looking for?” she paused, not completely willing to out herself as a fool but fortifying herself nonetheless, “...There could be several spiritual signatures in the same area, could there not be?” It seemed as if all her classes on the human world implied that very possibility. Spiritual humans didn't use to be so high in numbers, but after the human world Invasion they had been increasing steadily across all corners of the globe. So they were bound to sense at least a few people within range, even if it really was a Hollow making the disturbance. How did the group figure out which lead to follow?

WC: 1277 | GP: 25 | Total GP: 25

"Well, three ways. The first is simply your sensitivity to spiritual pressure. Almost anything that causes this kind of complication is spiritually active in a noticeable way, you just need to be paying attention. The second is the Seireitei. The fourth division monitors a lot of earth, and the technology that we use to send out spirit pressure alerts and help agents find hollows can and is currently being applied here, so I'll be getting sent information via that to make this easy. The third is changes in the natural environment that should not be, anything significant enough to even mildly effect the Senkaimon network effects reality on some level. Look for whats wro-"
 
It appeared for a second as if the very breath from Roberts lungs was being dragged out. The air that carried the words that escaped from his mouth carried a sudden icy chill, like he had just been dropped into an arctic tundra. Almost immediately thereafter, the humidity and heat began to be drained, as though even the air that surrounded them had turned hostile. An unmistakable spiritual pressure spike had come from the Opera House in unison with the cold. Even the water itself seemed to indicate the origin; its surface turning icy and frigid, its progression maintaining a circular pattern expanding outwards from the Opera House. This was definitely some sort of spell of a spiritual nature, though the specifics escaped him. He hadn't seen anything quite like this before except from zanpakuto releases that controlled water and ice.
 
"Forget the how. Come. We're dealing with this now. Be quiet and suppress your spiritual pressure as much as you can; Stealth is a useful tool."
 
Simply by choosing to not exert the irrelevant amount of effort required to stay afloat, Robert began to drop from the sky and plummeted like a stone towards the ice below. A few feet above the ever spreading curtain of ice, his descent slowed rapidly, his feet landing tenderly upon the lakes frozen surface. A series of rapid yet tenderly placed steps across the thin ice lead him off its surface and onto the concrete plaza. In front of him sat the unassuming double doored entrance to the grand building, the mighty Opera House. An opulent temple to the worlds most boring art. Opera was nothing but fat Italian maids singing in octaves that could likely be weaponized given enough R&D, it hardly deserved its own building, let alone one so famous in the mortal realm. He stepped straight through the open front door and, with a final gaze behind him to ensure he was being followed, proceeded into the main plaza.
 
Immediately through the doorway was an elegant wooden reception desk, with large, wide stairs proceeding into the main complex on the right. A small puddle of now frozen blood was pooled at the base of the staircase, whose steps held eight bodies that, gazing upwards from the bottom, appeared to be arranged in a circular pattern. They were secured in place by large wooden stakes driven through their chests, and the victims were stripped bare. Each body sported small patches of missing skin, as though someone had begun to flay it from their muscles. Almost as if on cue, the low, loud rumble of many voices humming in unison began to ring out from further within the complex. Immediately, the Reiatsu signatures of note in the area morphed dramatically. Earlier, he had sensed simply one large spike without a specific origin, but now it was laid out clearly. Five spiritual pressures, each slightly weaker than the Shinigami that accompanied Robert, and then several thousand tiny specs scattered around them. In terms of power, they were irrelevant amounts, the kind you felt from an individual who was able to perceive spirits but nothing more. What on earth was going on? Normally he would assume so many spiritually active humans present in one location would be the fault of a bizarre convention of psychics and mystics, but such things did not typically involve ritualistic murder.
 
Robert climbed the stairs in silence, walking straight over one of the bodies as he made his way up and in, following the source of the sound and spiritual pressure. It lead him to the top of the stairs and down a hallway to three sets of double doors, the signage above indicating this as the Concert Hall. The walk had lead him past several dozen more bodies. Some were flayed entirely, with not a drop of skin left on them. Others still were hung from the ceiling by their own intestines as a noose. Madness had claimed this place. The hum transitioned into a sort of nightmarish twist on Gregorian chanting as the group approached the entrance to the Concert hall. Robert pushed the door open tenuously, taking care to not let any noise escape from its hinges, nor light penetrate the hall needlessly. The theater was packed with mortals, Robert could not see even a single empty seat. The room lights were down but the stage lights were up, illuminating five naked human women. They were all young and conventionally attractive, though the potential attractiveness of the nudity was quickly offset by the blood that stained their arms and torsos. They had a man kneeling on the stage, his abdomen split open, intestines and vital organs laid bare for all to see. Yet despite this he was singing in unison with the group while the women painted sigils on the stage with his blood. Oddly enough, this blood was not frozen, even the room itself was far warmer than the outside world.

Clearly, Robert knew what he had to do, even if he didn't know the specifics. Either this was the largest cult gathering in history, in which case they would kill them to the last, or the crowd had come to attend a show and been bewitched someone. He'd have to conclude which before acting. He held his hand up to the students behind him, indicating they wait as he crept forward. He advanced on a man standing by an isle seat and in one fluid motion shoved his hand over his mouth and pulled him backwards over the seat, driving him to the ground. There was no resistance from the man, though he attempted to sing through Roberts grasp on his jaw. His eyes told a different story, however. They were wide with terror, screaming silently. It was not the look of a man in control of his actions, but the look of a man who was helpless and afraid. Robert removed his hand from the mans mouth and he simply... kept singing, remaining stationary on the ground where he had been slammed. An almost righteous anger bubbled in his stomach. What was happening here was was sick and evil, and it had to be stopped. There was no doubt in his heart that the mans reaction was genuine, leaving bewitchment as the only logical conclusion. He'd have to kill the women on the stage to the last, and hope that whatever they had done to both the area and the people could be stopped.
 
Robert gestured to the students as he knelt over the man, drawing them closer so that he could whisper instructions. "I think the people are being controlled by the women on the stage. I have no idea what they're doing but it doesn't matter. Those women die tonight. No need to make this complicated, I'll just blow them apart. Spread out in the air, watch for anyone trying to escape if they don't all die at once." Once he finished speaking he moved, rising off the ground and placing himself in the air above the back of the crowd. He drew Jikan from its sheath and held it in his left hand, just in case. He would not need his blade today, but regardless, it was safer to draw it and not need it than to need it and not draw it. He could use a lower spell, a weaker spell. Something that wouldn't be quite as taxing on his system, but that had inherent risk. If it wasn't strong enough to finish the job in one strike, chaos would break out. No, there was no other reasonable option here but deadly force. He'd obliterate them with a show of true power. His right arm snapped forward, elbow locked, palm extended, expression grim. Any efforts to hide his spiritual pressure among the noise faded away in an instant as his voice rose into a roar that rang clear across the incessant chanting.
 
"Hadō #88. Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō!"
 
The sudden flash of blue lightning mixed with an almost unearthly scream as power incarnate flew from Roberts palm. An incredibly fast and wide blast of electrical energy shot out straight towards the stage, so large and bright that it obscured his vision of the target. The last thing he saw of them was the women turning to look in his direction. The impact of the spell drove straight through the stage, destroying both it, the dressing rooms and maintenance areas beneath it and the first few rows of the audience. Finally, the attack stopped drilling through the building and a loud explosion could be heard, shaking the structure violently in the process. As the dust cleared, Robert concentrated on the Reiatsu in the area. All five of the more noteworthy spiritual pressures were gone. One by one, the light of the people around them began to snuff out too. Their singing stopped and so did their consciousness. Each and every one of them lost anything that made them more than an ordinary human in his eyes as they collapsed, and for a moment all seemed right with the world. The evil people were dead. The normal people were unconscious, ready to have their memories altered and sanity restored, and most importantly of all, the Opera house had taken serious damage, as it deserved for being a palace to such an idiotic art. Unfortunately for him, however, Soul Society would probably want it repaired so that nobody knew anything happened here.
 
"Well, that was... easier than expected. Now we just have to worry about cleaning up this mess and wiping peoples memor-" his speech trailed off as a shiver ran up his spine. There was a sudden disconcerting hum in his ears, and a Deja Vu he couldn't quite place. It felt like power. In an instant, a bright flash of blue light flooded his peripheral vision. His eyes flicked to the source and immediately identified the trajectory; it was heading straight for Katso Hitoshi, the student to his immediate right. His hand shot out on pure reflex, grabbing a fistful of the boys collar and pulling, hard. He wasn't so much dragging the kid as throwing him, he pulled him aside and tossed him straight into the wall. Hitoshi smashed into it with the meaty impact of flesh and bone giving way, and as he slid down towards the floor, Robert could see the true extent of the damage. His right arm was almost liquidized. From the elbow down had been completely destroyed and the flesh on the remaining portion of arm had been burnt away, leaving a gnarled bone stump hanging off of his exposed socket joint. That was an unmistakable attack: that was a Cero.

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38 GP this post

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It was a milk run. Get in, eliminate the disturbance and get out. It was simple, hell they did these all the time. As far as mission danger went, these were some of the safest performed on earth, perfect for taking a group of students and keeping them safe.
 
Yet now there was so much blood.
 
His eyes wandered haphazardly down to his right hand. The tips were stained with thick red streaks. He had grabbed the kid so hard as he threw him that his fingers had torn straight through the flesh it grasped. He had even felt the oddly satisfying crackling squish of bone, muscle and sinew being compacted together under his vice like grip. Sure, Katso Hitoshi was a miserable little piece of shit. It couldn't have happened to a bigger asshole, and if he had to choose one of the kids to get hurt it would have been him without hesitation, but this shouldn't have happened at all. None of them were meant to die today, yet there he was bleeding to death.
 
No.
 
He wasn't dead yet, Robert had seen to that. His reaction time was immaculate and while the kid was seriously injured he wouldn't die if he got immediate medical treatment. The Arrancar hadn't killed anyone, and he wouldn't get a chance to anymore. He had his sneak attack and he blew it.
 
Nobody would die today.
 
Nobody but that jumped-up blue haired prick.
 
With a flicker, he appeared right on top of Yunokawa Rieko. His speed was beyond anything Robert had ever seen. He had absolutely no hope of getting there to block the blow in time, so he'd have to break the impact. The palms of his hands slammed together, enveloping in a radiant glow of warm green light. His right hand shot forward, firing out eight blasts of warm green light from the palm. The sheets of light snaked and swelled, stacking in the air directly beneath Reiko. Each sheet flexed slightly as she hit it before dissolving, draining the momentum the blow had delivered and slowing her fall. Still, all he had really done was stopped her from shattering her skull on the floor below. She still left a small crater on impact, and the spray of blood that shot from her mouth on impact made it clear how badly that blow had impacted her.
 
Roberts hand snapped down to his belt, removing the soul phone from its holster and raising it to his ear. Three button presses later, he had his emergency operator on the line. He inhaled to speak, but the air was knocked from his lungs for a moment as he saw the Arrancar's shirt pop open. There on his collar bone was etched a large imposing number Six. This was no ordinary Arrancar; it was a fucking Espada. Of all the fucking days for this to happen...
 
"I need an emergency Senkaimon at my location as fast as possible. Send medics and a combat unit. We have an Espada on location. Two down with a high probability of casualties." His speech was rapid fire but reasonably composed in tone. He spoke just loud enough for the operator to hear him, but took care to ensure neither the Espada nor the students around him heard what was being said. The last thing he needed was further panic by letting them know the extent of what they were facing. They didn't need fear, they needed leadership.
 
The Espada rambled on at some length. Threats, swearing, whining. Irrelevant fluff that Robert had no intention of interrupting. Every second he wasted was another second they had to establish the Senkaimon. Roberts patience at the Espada's grandstanding dissolved the second he started forming a sphere of energy in his hands. Combat was clearly about to break out again, he'd have to give orders now before everything became chaotic. The students needed guidance or else they'd flail.
 
"Anyone who knows Kaido, help Hitoshi and Reiko, the rest of y-" "SO LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN MAKE IT THREE!"
 
The sphere swelled, expanding and firing out in an instant. A large, radiant cero was flying straight towards Yasuhiro. "Danku!" Robert covered the distance between himself and the boy in no time and with a flick of his wrist, conjured up a spectral sheet before them. The cero smashed into the shield with a cacophonous screeching explosion and an equally impressive flare of light. Yet when the dust settled, the barrier stood and the cero had hurt nobody.
 
"Three."
 
"the rest of you cover the healers. His cero isn't as dangerous as the melee blows he's landed, keep your distance"
 
As he finished commanding the band, he drew Jikan from its sheath. He'd close this soon. Release and land a 90s hado, finish this Espada before he has a chance to release. Yet before he had even drawn his blade, Viktor Moskvin was charging straight forward towards the Espada. That stupid fucking boy. He wasn't good enough to beat Robert in a sword fight and Robert sucked with a blade, he'd die in three seconds in melee combat with this monster.
 
And that was his problem.
 
Robert had given his orders, if Viktor wanted to ignore them and get himself killed, so be it. It gave him time to prepare. The tip of his blade twisted up to the sky. Back locked, stance rigid. The words flowed from his mouth with a harsh barked undertone that conveyed every ounce of blood lust and fury that coursed through his veins.
 
"The Sands Of Time Flow Without End, Jikan Kanshu!"
 
The immaculate steel surface of his blade glowed with a warm cyan glow. For an instant, things proceeded as normal. The light had consumed the blade and Robert could feel the steel ready to morph and twist into its released form, but then, as quickly as the light had come, it left. The blade had refused to release.
 
"You seem to be having some difficulty there, Robert. Problem getting it up?"
 
A thick trickle of sweat formed on his brow as the voice echoed in his ears. Jikan was really pulling this shit now? NOW?! In the middle of a fight with a fucking Espada?! There was nothing he hated more than his infernal fucking Zanpakuto spirit.

"Jikan... what the fuck are you doing. This is an Espada he will kill us."
 
"Sorry 'master', I don't feel like tilling your fields today. Fight him on your own. Or you could always come in here and force me to submit, but that would take time you can't afford to spare now wouldn't it. Quick now, go fight your Espada before he kills another one of your helpless students."
 

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Her relief that their sensei didn't send a castigating look her way for her stupid question swiftly chilled as the very air around them plummeted into the negative temperatures. Shivering in her summer uniform, the white material thin and made from breathable fabric, Hanabi glanced around nervously as the other students exclaimed loudly. Yunokawa-sempai's cheeks flushed red swiftly and even Hanabi was rubbing her iced fingertips against her legs in a useless effort to keep them flexible. The chill had to herald something, the arrival of their target maybe, but for all that she cast out with her fledgling spiritual senses she could only catch the illusive tail-end of some larger reiatsu signature.

Glancing at her peers, she spotted the hard glint of focus on Muhle-sensei's face, oddly mirrored in various shades across her companions of whom she had grown so used to thinking of as children instead of soldiers. As one they dropped from the sky, cautious silent steps carrying them across the flat terrain as they spread out in a defensive formation around Muhle-sensei. He had taken point and Hanabi made a split-second decision, sliding into the spot at his right instead of lagging towards the back as she normally would have done.

This was a challenge, and despite the flicker-thrum of fear and the way the sweat on her forehead iced before it could fall, she knew that success was not a choice but an ultimatum. Kiriko would want a report after this was all over, and Hanabi didn't want to have to tell her that she had been too afraid to act. Not when, despite her skin crawling as the air shimmered with a heavy and oppresive aura, she could almost taste something metallic and hollow in the back of her throat. Dull anticipation, cautious but unfurling bit by bit, forcing her spine straight and her eyes casting sideways as she scanned for threats.

This was what she had trained for, danger or no. And to be in the field alongside a true Shinigami, it was an honor and a silent promise. So Hanabi took her place at Muhle-sensei's side, shadowing him as they stepped into the Opera House and following each trailing path his gaze took as if she could imprint that skill simply by copying it.

The scene that unveiled itself was enough to shake her nascent hunger and she struggled to keep the cry of shock locked tight in her chest and the bile from escaping her throat. A shiver rushed through the entire group, the Academy students balking at the plain display of torture and death. It was so carefully constructed, like an exhibition of body parts, that Hanabi almost immediately felt numb distance between herself and the carved up meat all around them.

Bodies without faces, without skin, without features, they were really just flesh. Parts that lacked identity. And in that way it was easier to be horrified but not shaken. These were victims of a horrible crime. Part and parcel of some epic scene of macabre violence. And in that way they were not actually human, but instead objects to be studied and learned from. The fact that she would try her best to avenge them was an emotional response, the shuddering of her foolish heart. It held too little warmth alone to ease the burden of guilt at her numb response, though Hanabi knew that when it came to functionality what she did was right. Correct even, textbook compartmentalization.

Staring at that bloody flesh, she tried not to shake, stepping away from the group once more to kneel beside the bodies. She had seen death before, back home. Had seen more of it in Kiriko's grasp, and enough violence to fill a life's quota. But this was so needless, done not for a purpose but only to cause pain. And pain with no end goal was so very useless.

Pressing icy fingertips against her lips, to hold back her bodily reaction to the scent of so much blood, to anchor her to her analytical mind, Hanabi studied the cadavars. Most had died in different ways, but the familiarity of their wounds was disturbing. It was not claws or teeth marks or even pulverizing wounds that had ended their lives, such as one would expect with the types of Hollow-breeds they would come across out here. Instead there was something ritual and surgical about these wounds, each one made with an eye towards preserving life, pulling it on and on like taffy stretched thin. It was torture, clear as crystal, but she could almost see the unholy joy that someone had felt in inflicting these wounds. The care, the pride, the loving manner these bodies had been created with.

Standing as the rest of the group began to progress further into the building, Hanabi bowed her head once, twice, and clapped her hands silently as she offered up a useless prayer for their souls. They would have to take care of the Pluses here, before the pain and anguish turned them into Hollows. Surely Muhle-sensei would know what to do, how long to wait before coming back here, how many Shinigami were needed for a mass konso process.

Thoughts ticking away, a deliberate attempt at maintaining that emptiness in the pit of her stomach and the glaze behind her eyes, Hanabi hurried to catch back up with the rest. Sliding around Moskvin and his green-tinged face as Temko-san shot her an unusually tight-jawed look. He was angry, she realized, as she settled back into place beside Muhle-sensei. The normally silent boy was perhaps the closest she had to a neutral classmate, more because he was unlikely to voice either concern or compliment. She hadn't expected to see fury on that blank face, but the narrowed gaze and tight fists were clear signs even to someone who had only just begun to study body language.

Standing tall, hoping that Temko-san would realize that he was not alone in his emotions, she stepped into the singing hall, her footsteps only a half-step out of synch with their sensei's. The sound of chanting was much louder here, perforating her eardrums and swirling around until the air seemed musty with the noise itself. She took in the scene rapidly, her mind trying to assess based on memorized strategems. And yet nothing in her textbooks or her time in the Dangai could have prepared her for this scene, the three golden women with their arms bloody up to the elbow and the puppet audience singing their lungs out.

Muhle-sensei snapped out a quiet order, his voice so full of implicit confidence that she felt her own nerves strengthen. Pulling reishi under her feet she slipped into the air, gliding into a holding pattern with her classmates as they watched wide-eyed as the Hado instructor displayed what true Hado mastery looked like. It was nothing even close to what they displayed in class, and she felt the air being pulled from her lungs as the atavistic display of pure power. Blue-white light crackled, her hair singing even from this far away, the radiating heat a harsh caress as she squinted in an effort not to blink and lose sight of the enemy.

This turned out to be a mistake as lights sparked in her eyes for several seconds, the whole scene sliding into blurry outlines. Muhle-sensei was quick to inform them of their success though, and she began to descend slowly from the air at the start of his voice. The pause of it though had her own descent halting, lips downturned in a questing frown as she scanned the area again with light-dazzled eyes. By the time her vision had cleared the violence had already begun, a tide of red as Katso-sempai slid bonelessly down the nearby wall. It all happened so quickly, like shutter stills from a camera scene, and she could only blink as Yunokawa-sempai's scream broke off with a brutal crunch, green kido fragments sparkling in the dim lighting.

Breath frozen in her throat, Hanabi paused, her heart screaming at her to be still, to avoid attention, even while her brain yelled all the louder to move. She wasn't unused to being outclassed, to being in mortal danger, but something about that deadly speed, the fact that she hadn't even caught sight of the enemy until he paused to glare at them and yell something about them ruining his plans, that hit her harder than the blood or the harsh glint in his eyes. The only reason she could sense him now, the only reason she could see what he was doing, was because he had chosen to waste time. To let those seconds tick by one by one.

That was it. Because when he actually moved, when that body slipped into motion, it was a dance of death that even her trained eyes failed to catch up with. And Hanabi was ashamed that it took Muhle-sensei's second Bakudo, and the imminent threat to Temko-san before she could feel sensation returning to her body. More ashamed that she waited for the order before moving, a soft nudge to the small of her back as Hinata twirled long silken sleeves across her cheekbones.

Dropping from her position like a stone in water, Hanabi kept to the edges of the room as she crept through shadows towards Yunokawa-sempai. Sensei had said to use Kaido, had given her a direct order even, but she couldn't stop her eyes from following Moskvin-sempai's insane charge, the wild yell of desparation that gave him a momentary burst of speed. Fast for an Academy Student, strong for an Academy Student, skilled in all the battle arts. And yet... And yet...

She looked away, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, unwilling to see the truth of how that lauded skill would match up against an Espada. For that was who their opponent was. It didn't take special training to realize it, the emblazoned six as clear as could be on his bare chest. Nonetheless she thanked Kiriko for the lessons that had been drilled into her head, only wishing she could obey the implicit order to retreat if she ever came across someone like this.

Her silent approach seemed to go unnoticed for now, as Hanabi crept from the overhang of the wall and knelt beside Yunokawa-sempai. She had passed Katso-sempai, a curled up ball of tears and groaning blood, but decided to head for the more lethal case. Katso might survive, if they stopped the bleeding in the next few minutes. Yunokawa though was more than a case of potential blood loss, and despite her lack of belief in her meager Kaido skills she knew the older girl was the right target.

Muttering the chant under her breath, she squinted hard, willing the soft green glow to envelop her hands as she pressed them against Yunokawa's chest. A broken spine wasn't currently life threatening, but the bruising indicated internal bleeding, the red phlegm at her lips and the way she had already passed out, eyelids flickering intermittently, it all pointed to ruptured organs which was far more serious than any bones right now.

Watching as the pale skin the girl so cherished ever so slowly lightened under Hanabi's ministrations she wiped feebly at the lips still tinged with a rosy pink lip gloss, trying to clean away the blood to insure the girl was still breathing. She had to trust in the orders she'd been given. Had to trust that her teammates would back her up, that Muhle-sensei would protect them. That someone could stop Katso-sempai's bleeding. That help would arrive soon enough. Had to believe that she could save Yunokawa-sempai. Had to believe that it was wrong to stand up, to wipe the girl's blood from her fingertips, and to charge into battle against that monster who would dare attack children and laugh about ritual slaughter.

She felt more than saw Hinata's soft presence at her side, a warm hand brushing at her bangs, the overwhelming scent of plum. It would be alright. It would be. 

WC: 2021 | GP: 40 | Total GP: 65

OOC: Wanted to post this after making you all wait so long so I didn't read it over or edit, sorry for any glaring mistakes.

He threw his blade back into its sheath with disdain. He was over a barrel and he knew it. This Espada was incredibly fast. Not so fast as to be beyond Robert's abilities of perception and potential evasion, but certainly fast enough that maintaining distance would be completely impossible. He had to mull over his tactical options. Smoke was the most obvious choice, obscure the bastard's senses and remove his ability to adequately engage in hand to hand combat. If that didn't work he could always resort to kamikaze tactics as he had with Shun. A 90s level hado dropped on both of them night incapacitate each of them and then the students could simply sweep in and heal Robert. Beyond that, there was alwa-
 
"Hate to interrupt your daydream 'master', but just because I'm not helping you you're going to let old Viktor die? Even I would look like I'm trying to help if nothing else. Can't have all the other kiddywinks thinking you're freaking out or anything. I mean they did just watch you try and fail to release your Shikai. Don't make it worse Sensei!"
 
The deriding bastard was right. Even if Viktor was an idiot he deserved some form of covering fire. His blade was gone, and the grip on his throat would surely kill him if the lightning didn't. Robert's left hand drifted up, fingers taut and sparking with crimson light.
 
"Jūgeki Byakurai"
 
The red light condensed down, enveloping his index finger and then firing straight and true across the auditorium and ... dissipating? The blast snaked straight through the Espada's hand, where the majority simply disappeared. A small spec of a beam continued through and tore straight through his face, yet it didn't deter him.
 
Lightning consumed Viktor's being. That Byakurai was a lightning hado. This was problematic to say the least. If this Souta could absorb lightning as opposed to hado in general then Byakurai, Tsuzuri Raiden, Raikoho and Hiryu Gekizoku Shinten Raiho were all useless now. And if he could absorb hado full stop, then Robert would have no choice but to retreat and leave the wounded where they lie.
 
He didn't have time to contemplate the specifics however. Viktor was dropped and in a second the blur of a man had traversed the room. God he was fast. Conscious thought was not an option, and so he defaulted to his earlier plan: Smoke and kamikaze tactics. He launched into action, releasing a sudden blast of rolling red smoke from his nose and mouth straight into the man's eyes. His left hand swelled, creating a basketball sized whirling sphere of fire in an instant. He fed it every ounce of power he could in the instant he had, crushing it down with his will until he grasped a tiny golden sun and then thrust, punching it straight towards the man.
 
The sphere met with flesh, and so did the Espada's boot. The fire exploded, flooding the air between them. He felt the mass of fury that was the Espada launch backwards, flying across the room. Yet he too was sent flying, shooting backwards through his smoke and smashing into the wall. He hadn't felt his Rib break, but he had definitely heard it. If his explosion hadn't impacted a second before the kick, it might have shattered every bone in his torso. Still, the pain of a broken Rib wasn't worth registering, not anymore. Not in light of the agony that flooded his hand.
 
He peeled himself out of the wall, sinking his teeth into his lip to suppress the groan. They couldn't hear pain. A commander could not reveal such weakness, and today that was exactly what he was. A field commander. The morale of his men was a resource he had to carefully manage, and as such he could show no pain. Robert raised his hand up through the smoke and inspected it. Charred white bone stared back at him. The flesh from his palm was completely gone, and the muscles and tendons that remained on the back of the hand were all seriously burned, with fading burns coating his forearm.
 
That was the downside of rushing an improvised spell and then punching someone with it. It was a reckless play, and he had no idea if it had worked, but he had to do something in the instant. There was a very slight amount of movement left in the fingers, but each millimeter moved was agony. He could use the hand in a pinch, and certainly channel spells through it, but it was rather fucked. Hopefully, the Espada's abdomen was in a similar state, otherwise all he had done was cost himself a good hand for nothing.
 
"You fucking pussy. Come on out from your little smoke cloud. And at least tell me your goddamn name if you're going to try and make this fight fun."
 
Ah. So NOW he wanted to talk. Now, after potentially killing three students. What bizarre standards these hollows held. Still, it was worth indulging him. Better he take his rage out on Robert than his underlings, and every second he bought for himself through conversation was another second the Seireitei had to secure his ticket out of here. He began to speak, holding a confident cadence in his voice as he walked across the air, exhaling more and more smoke to bolster his cloud.
 
"My name? So, now that you can't see what you want to hit the desire for civilized conversation strikes you. Wonderful. I am Robert Mühle. Since you felt the need to boast over your rank and talents earlier, I might as well do the same, so that we are equally informed. Lieutenant of the fourth division, I also work as an Academy instructor. As for talents? Well, there are maybe four Shinigami alive who could hope to outdo me when it comes to hado, as you might have noticed."
 

As he spoke, Robert drifted through the cloud, ensuring his voice would be ever in motion and harder to pin down. He wasn't going to fall for that trick, Souta was not going to simply find him by his voice and punch him out of the cloud. He might be many things, but he was not an idiot.

"So, you have had your introduction. Now tell me, Espada. Must we keep playing this game? I have no interest in killing you. Not today, anyway. Another time? Certainly. I can't deny I enjoy combat. We could rip each others throats out with our teeth. It'll be fun. But not today, not with the kids here. The sight of it might upset them."
 
"Playing confident, I like it. Bet you he's barely hurt though. You just fucked yourself over nothing. Nice smoke trick though. I liked that one. Next time do it in the form of a sailboat, its been so long since you've done that one!"
 

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Water trickled from the corner of her eyes, perspiration mixing with anxious tears as she pressed her lips into a tight line, a subconscious plea for control. The bright white light of reiatsu that constantly bubbled inside her, a lightly bobbing lantern in the darkness of her soul, had fluttered desperately low as Hanabi pushed all of her energy into the most intensive healing Kido she could perform at her level. Keeping one eye on her patient, on the soft stirring of Yunokawa's chest, the flush of her skin, the rasp of breath escaping torn lungs, Hanabi never let her attention falter from the light inside her either. She had to manage both at the same time, keeping a careful control over the energy that rushed like a tidal wave through her fingertips, seeping in an endless stream as Yunokawa's wounds drained what little precious reserves the Academy Student had cultivated.

To be successful she had to move slow. Increment by increment, fixing the most serious wounds first, or at least shoring them up to give Yunokawa-sempai some precious few more seconds of life. She wasn't a trained medic, she wasn't even particularly well versed in Kaido. But Hanabi would be damned if she let a classmate die because of her own faults. Like all her other subjects in school she had done her due diligence, and in Kido above all the rest she had shown her natural affinity, so what did it matter if she was better at Bakudo or Hado? She'd read the textbooks all the same, memorized the passages, had even been the first in her class to replicate this level of spell.

It was all about being meticulous, about willpower, she knew that too from her textbooks. Kaido had more to do with stubbornness than fancy spellwork. You had to couple an in-depth understanding of the body with the sheer inability to let fate work the way it should. So she clung to the ragged sense of Yunokawa-sempai, the cluster of pained gasps, the burbling warmth of blood against her fingers, and she fed more and more of her reiatsu into the void that was an injured body. Piece by piece, honing down on that energy until it was a sharp needle and thread, until it lapped gently at all that was torn inside the body and pressed the gaps closed. Holding firm. It wasn't a fix, not even honestly a properly executed Kaido, but as Hanabi felt the muscle and bone shift beneath her hands she knew that the lines of power would be enough to hold that flesh in place for just a bit longer.

Her power sputtered, tired flames licking the bottom of her well of endurance, the constant flow from her hands a shuddering flicker as the green sparkled between her palms. Gritting her teeth, Hanabi bit hard on the inside of her cheek, repeating Muhle-sensei's order in her head as if it was a buddhist mantra. Orders were orders. Orders were undeniable. You did not disobey them. You did not fail to complete them. All she had to do was keep Yunokawa-sempai alive. That was it, that was all. She would not mess up. She wouldn't disobey a direct order.

She could do it. She could. Hanabi-shishou pressed against her shoulder, the soft fluttering feeling of a silken kimono settling like downy feathers across her back as those loving hands clutched over her own. The sputtering energy smoothed out, her control deepening as Hanabi-shishou lent her experience to the task of keeping the Kaido going. Enveloped in that acceptance, in the understanding that both girl and sword-spirit were bent to the same task, Hanabi let the worry wash away as she focused purely on completing this healing.

She turned so far inward that she didn't even realize the movement until gravity itself played a role, her body weight tugging her harshly against the forearm that pressed into her throat, a natural choke hold. Breath caught tight, a band around her chest ensuring that nothing but a muted gasp could escape, Hanabi spent a wordless moment of fright in total panic. Her legs and arms flailing, pitter-pattering uselessly against the hard board of flesh that revealed itself as the Espada's chest. His voice in her ear was enough to break that instinctive moment of fear and she pulled her arms in tight around her as her legs ceased their wild kicking.

Black spots danced across her vision, little sparkles edged in golden white. There was always this total feeling of victimization when you were choked, this utter release as you realize nothing in the world was in your own hands. That one swift jerk or even just constant pressure and you would be dead. And there was nothing to do about it, nothing that struggling or yelling or crying would change.

It had always seemed poetic to Hanabi, in some darkly macabre place in her mind. The way the mind created colors in that moment of oxygen deprivation, the way everything slowed to a dull heart-breaking thud. Life became clearest at times when you were about to lose it. These were moments when she felt the desire to live most strongly. In stark contrast to her general life-long malaise, these were seconds of precious ambition. It was when she saw the future as a brilliant gleaming trophy, when she could dream the elusive optimism of the unknown, when she could believe in change.

The Espada eased up on her throat, his hand wrapping around her chest to hold her in place, and her body was the traitor it always had been as it sucked in choked breaths. The world fluttered back into monochrome color, all the wonder of almost-death seeping away, rolling deep deep down until it was only a spark of a memory to be held in her heart.

In the haze of half-consciousness, she felt her whole body shudder as the Sexta whispered to her. Rattled though her mind was, she wasn't so out of it that a blush didn't taint her cheeks a brilliant scarlet, eyes locked wide and pale as her throat worked convulsively. The damning words didn't change though as her body replenished its oxygen levels and all it took was for the arm around her throat to tighten passively before Hanabi was spluttering through an exact repetition of what the man had whispered to her.

Insubordination was a crime she was willing to commit if it meant actually following Muhle-sensei's direct orders. And he had told her to stay out of the fight. To heal Yunokawa. So long as Souta didn't kill her she could still do that, could still act on those commands. So she would do whatever he asked her to do now, say whatever he wanted her to say, because it was just words. And words weren't enough to stop her from saving Yunokawa-sempai.

"Listen up, Scrotum Sucker,” her voice wavered, all the delight and emotion in Souta's voice bled dry as she coughed once. Continuing, voice higher and stronger so that he couldn't say she was disobeying, Hanabi struggled to mouth such insulting words, “We're going to play a game. You're going to come out of that smoke cloud and fight me, or I'm going to kill off your students one by one.”

“What'll it be, you sperm bubble burping cum dumpster?”

And then she hung her head, letting her eyes hide behind a fringe of hair hoping for all the world that if Souta didn't kill her, her own shame wouldn't do the job for him. 

WC: 1260 | GP: 25 | Total GP: 90

He could see them. Smoke did nothing to blind the eyes of the soul, and the threads of energy that fluttered in the air told an adequate tale. He could feel Souta and Hanabi embrace, their energies compressing into a singular location as they bled and warped together. Of course he would resort to this. Robert had unwittingly handed the Espada six meat shields, it was only natural he was going to use them to manipulate Robert.
 
"Well, aren't you fucked." He spoke with ecstasy. This was as close to divine bliss as Jikan had ever ventured, and he wore every drop of pleasure in his voice. "Decision time! kill the girl to hurt the Espada or save her? Come on, Lieutenant. This is the time for you to show your worth. Killing an Espada? You'll be remembered for that. Nobody will know what happened here. Go on. Earn your place in history."
 
Jikan was right, he could hit both of them at once. The Espada wouldn't expect it, and he could use that to win the fight. Killing an Espada... who would deny him his Haori then? Captain of the fourth would be his by right at that point. Compared to that esteemed mantle, what was the life of six students? He would gladly knit the Haori out of their skin if that were the price and wear it for all to see.
 
Then came the taunt.
 
He couldn't just hear the fear in her voice, he could feel it. Hanabi was powerless here. She was but a lost girl trapped between raging monsters, and now she was going to die. He would blow straight through her and kill the Espada. It was her fault for being caught in the end. She should have stayed out of sight, she should have moved the injured instead of staying there. Of course she was going to be used as a meat shield. If anything, Souta was an idiot for thinking it would stop Robert. He would sacrifice any piece on the board to kill him. He woul-
 
Then came the laughter.
 
Uproarious cackling flooded his head, swelling and bloating as it grew into a chorus.  Jikan's amusement was palpable. This was all a game to it, and Souta had done nothing but amuse it. "You're running out of time Robert. Murder the girl and claim your glory."
 
No. He had let his lust get the best of him and done the unthinkable; he had listened to Jikan. Nobody would forget it. He would not be the hero who had slain an Espada, he would be the monster that had let children die. Even if he got what he wanted, his Haori would be a warning to all that were to follow him; you are expendable. I will discard you. He would not lead a squad, he would enslave one until a man worthy enough to free them came along to relieve him of it. He had to save her. He would distract the Espada and separate him from his quarry. She would live.
 
"Tsuriboshi"
 
Robert tapped the wall with a gnarled finger, unleashing a writhing blue mass of sticky strands upon its surface. It was not a conventional net, but it would do to absorb impact. To separate Hanabi from her captor would be no easy feat, throwing her away was the best he had to hope for.
 
"I see you, Espada." He spat the words like acid at the beast, his contempt laid bare. "I see you for the child you really are. Playing games and spitting insults. You're an angry infant throwing a tantrum. Always used to winning, I take it? Getting what you want no matter what? Doesn't surprise me with that much power. If a toy doesn't do what you want you can just break it. You can't live that way forever."
 
Distract, then strike. If he made the Espada feel him approaching from the rear there was a chance, however fleeting. His eyes shut. The strands of Reiatsu were everywhere around them, a map even the most feral of beasts could read. He could see his own energies writhing out from his body, eager to be sensed and understood. Betraying his location. He took a single deep breath, focusing on each individual strand. Dragging them in. He had to be invisible. Irrelevant. Hidden. slowly they crept back in, yielding to his call as they crushed down. He felt himself shrinking, becoming small and unnoticed. His light snuffed out and he was gone to the world. Only a single tiny cluster of strands remained. In his hand they coalesced, gathering and shrinking down into an ever smaller ball.
 
"One day you're going to bite off more than you can chew and get yourself killed. Maybe that day is today."
 
He reared back, hurling the sphere high into the air. It swept across their heads as it expanded, stretching and morphing before finally landing behind Souta and Hanabi. It was not a sphere of tangible matter, but rather of Reiatsu. Energy itself. Precisely the thing beasts like Souta felt. He would not see it, but he would feel it. To him, Robert had shot over his head and behind him. It was time.
 
He stepped with haste, descending down upon the distracted Espada. In a flash, his hands set to work. He had his arm around her throat, and that would have to go first. "Seki." The blue sphere smashed into Souta's hand, exploiting the natural arc of his elbow to knock it back and away from her throat. Another hand slid against the small of Hanabi's back. "Sho." A violent blast of force shot from his hand, lifting her off her feet and through the last lingering dregs of smoke to the net beyond.
 
The meat shield was gone, and now only Souta remained. He spun on his feet one last time, white fire swelling in the palm of his already destroyed hand. He raised it, thrusting it with a roar straight at the beasts face. He would end this now. Nobody else had to die.

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