Post by Souta Suzuki on Sept 8, 2015 13:38:52 GMT -5
The moon provided the only light in the room as Souta watched his son's chest rise and fall slowly. It had been a tense few hours. Ignoring the battles raging across Las Noches, he and a select few of his servants had only worked to heal him. Tokiyo had almost killed his child. He had been clinging to life by only a thread when he was delivered back to the palace. He sighed loudly, leaning back in the chair by his son's bedside. He let himself relax a little for the first time since he'd saved him. He hadn't woken up yet, but it shouldn't be too long. He needed his rest anyway.
He stood slowly, walking over to the window, staring out onto the sands, slowly closing his eyes and focusing. He could only feel a couple battles left. Whatever this invasion had been, the Arrancar had won. Turning his head back to his son, Souta could only wonder at what cost. He looked down at his own arm, or the stump that used to be his arm. Sparks played across the end of it as it slowly regrew, but he didn't know if his hand would come back. Even if it didn't, the price was more than worth his boy's life.
He sat down on the ledge of the window, leaning against the frame, Chainhunter on one side of his vision and the desert on the other. He had a lot to think about, didn't he?
Tokiyo Fujikagi.
The man Souta had declared his rival, ever since the Alamo. He was a very different person than he was that hot summer day though. Or was the arrancar only just finally realizing who he truly was? He had not honestly expected such cowardly tactics from his equal. Attacking Chainhunter to give him time to run away. But there was another problem there, wasn't there?
Equal.
Was Tokiyo his equal?
Souta's fingers dug into the stone of the windowsill as he forced himself to admit it.
No.
He was his better now.
Somehow, since the Alamo, Tokiyo had gained an extreme amount of strength. The kido which took all of his power and focus while in bankai to cast a bastardized version of was weaker than the one he had just flung off at Chainhunter like it was nothing, like it took him no effort. A kido that almost killed both of them. No name. No incantation. Just a formed ball of reiryoku that Souta almost couldn’t stop, and that he had simply lobbed like a stone. An attack that cost him his arm to stop.
His vision slid to the side and focused on his son, still breathing steadily, and he smiled softly.
Not that he wouldn’t pay that price over and over again, a million times. Or any price, if it came down to it. He leaned his head back into the stone, closing his eyes again.
Tokiyo Fujikagi was more powerful than he’d ever been. But he knew that he was not more powerful than he’d become.
He was a lot of things, that Shinigami. Not a rival anymore, but still someone Souta would fight and kill. No longer someone who’s life he could spare, waiting for him to grow stronger. That seed had more than blossomed. But he was smart, wasn’t he? Or rather, insightful might be a good word.
He often thought back to the Alamo. Relived that glorious fight. But he also remembered the conversation they had, at the end, while Tokiyo’s blood pumped out around his fist. Remembering those words, he just shook his head, looking back out at the desert, listening to the rhythmic breathing behind him.
That Shinigami was a coward. Honestly, now that he thought about it, he’d been a coward back at the Alamo too. He only fought because Souta had forced him to. Just like today, where he ran from the fight and did the one thing he thought might make his pursuer stop. But even if he was a coward…
He’d been right at the Alamo.
The arrancar’s lips moved, words quietly slipping out of them as he quoted the gutless.
”I didn’t get power for a purpose, Souta. A purpose gave me power.”
Souta’s purpose had always been power itself, hadn’t it? He couldn’t remember a time when his goal hadn’t just been to get stronger, for no reason other than to get stronger. The more power he got, the more power he could get by using it. An endless cycle that he was all too happy to indulge in. But he had to choose today.
He had to choose his purpose.
He smiled at his son, not a doubt in his mind that he’d chosen right.
The question was though, did he have enough power for this purpose?
That Shinigami wasn’t the only one who’d bested him, wasn’t the only one whom he wasn’t strong enough to beat. There was another name in this. Another man.
Weylin Von Wolfenstein.
He almost had to laugh at the idea of a Quincy being stronger than him, but it was true. Weylin was not only the only man that Souta had ever met who matched his skill in martial arts, but his sheer power and breadth of other skills exceeded and overwhelmed his own. Could he honestly defend his pack against something like Weylin or Tokiyo? He just relaxed this time, easing into the frame of the window.
No, he couldn’t.
But in the end, that didn’t matter. Because he’d do it anyway. He’d figure out any way he could protect them, even if he had to lose his other arm to do it. It didn’t matter if he didn’t have the ability to do it.
The man he’d saved today.
The girl he’d do anything for.
The memory he still carried with him.
They were all that mattered in the end.
~~~~~~
WC/GP 1015/20
He stood slowly, walking over to the window, staring out onto the sands, slowly closing his eyes and focusing. He could only feel a couple battles left. Whatever this invasion had been, the Arrancar had won. Turning his head back to his son, Souta could only wonder at what cost. He looked down at his own arm, or the stump that used to be his arm. Sparks played across the end of it as it slowly regrew, but he didn't know if his hand would come back. Even if it didn't, the price was more than worth his boy's life.
He sat down on the ledge of the window, leaning against the frame, Chainhunter on one side of his vision and the desert on the other. He had a lot to think about, didn't he?
Tokiyo Fujikagi.
The man Souta had declared his rival, ever since the Alamo. He was a very different person than he was that hot summer day though. Or was the arrancar only just finally realizing who he truly was? He had not honestly expected such cowardly tactics from his equal. Attacking Chainhunter to give him time to run away. But there was another problem there, wasn't there?
Equal.
Was Tokiyo his equal?
Souta's fingers dug into the stone of the windowsill as he forced himself to admit it.
No.
He was his better now.
Somehow, since the Alamo, Tokiyo had gained an extreme amount of strength. The kido which took all of his power and focus while in bankai to cast a bastardized version of was weaker than the one he had just flung off at Chainhunter like it was nothing, like it took him no effort. A kido that almost killed both of them. No name. No incantation. Just a formed ball of reiryoku that Souta almost couldn’t stop, and that he had simply lobbed like a stone. An attack that cost him his arm to stop.
His vision slid to the side and focused on his son, still breathing steadily, and he smiled softly.
Not that he wouldn’t pay that price over and over again, a million times. Or any price, if it came down to it. He leaned his head back into the stone, closing his eyes again.
Tokiyo Fujikagi was more powerful than he’d ever been. But he knew that he was not more powerful than he’d become.
He was a lot of things, that Shinigami. Not a rival anymore, but still someone Souta would fight and kill. No longer someone who’s life he could spare, waiting for him to grow stronger. That seed had more than blossomed. But he was smart, wasn’t he? Or rather, insightful might be a good word.
He often thought back to the Alamo. Relived that glorious fight. But he also remembered the conversation they had, at the end, while Tokiyo’s blood pumped out around his fist. Remembering those words, he just shook his head, looking back out at the desert, listening to the rhythmic breathing behind him.
That Shinigami was a coward. Honestly, now that he thought about it, he’d been a coward back at the Alamo too. He only fought because Souta had forced him to. Just like today, where he ran from the fight and did the one thing he thought might make his pursuer stop. But even if he was a coward…
He’d been right at the Alamo.
The arrancar’s lips moved, words quietly slipping out of them as he quoted the gutless.
”I didn’t get power for a purpose, Souta. A purpose gave me power.”
Souta’s purpose had always been power itself, hadn’t it? He couldn’t remember a time when his goal hadn’t just been to get stronger, for no reason other than to get stronger. The more power he got, the more power he could get by using it. An endless cycle that he was all too happy to indulge in. But he had to choose today.
He had to choose his purpose.
He smiled at his son, not a doubt in his mind that he’d chosen right.
The question was though, did he have enough power for this purpose?
That Shinigami wasn’t the only one who’d bested him, wasn’t the only one whom he wasn’t strong enough to beat. There was another name in this. Another man.
Weylin Von Wolfenstein.
He almost had to laugh at the idea of a Quincy being stronger than him, but it was true. Weylin was not only the only man that Souta had ever met who matched his skill in martial arts, but his sheer power and breadth of other skills exceeded and overwhelmed his own. Could he honestly defend his pack against something like Weylin or Tokiyo? He just relaxed this time, easing into the frame of the window.
No, he couldn’t.
But in the end, that didn’t matter. Because he’d do it anyway. He’d figure out any way he could protect them, even if he had to lose his other arm to do it. It didn’t matter if he didn’t have the ability to do it.
The man he’d saved today.
The girl he’d do anything for.
The memory he still carried with him.
They were all that mattered in the end.
~~~~~~
WC/GP 1015/20
