Tell Me What to Do [Kionchi]

Sometimes, it really is all about the little things. The expression was so trite and overused, but that didn't make it any less true.

The king's madness had spread like a cancer through Rukongai. And yet Kionchi found himself completely obsessed with something entirely unrelated to the swarm of hollows spread through the city. It wasn't like he didn't have anything else to think about, his zanpakuto resting in the mask of another purified beast. But despite all the chaos, he found himself sitting peacefully on the roof of some stranger's house, completely transfixed on an apple as red as his collar: its stem held firmly between his thumb and his forefinger, slowly spinning in front of his face, as though he'd been tasked with inspecting every surface of its skin.

He found it on the same rooftop when he fought the mantis-like hollow, although it was over so quickly it was more like an assassination than a duel. Normally he'd have disregarded it completely, as though it were perfectly normal to find fresh fruit lying around on someone's house. If he was especially bored, he might have given it just enough attention to dream up some silly narrative. Perhaps the hollow had snagged an unaware Plus, the Ryoka too stunned and afraid to let go until its body went limp. Or maybe it was here long before the invasion, tossed by some young fool caught up in some prank gone awry.

But none of that mattered to the apple now. As long as its seeds were safe, it still served its purpose. Even if they were going to end up in the trash the next day, the actual fruit had still served its duty. But today wasn't about seeds or fruit. Today was about survival. And to that end, the apple's only real purpose was to rot.

A satisfying crunch broke the silence.

He reached for his sword and spat out his only bite, tossing the rest of the snack over his shoulder and back onto the roof. The apple was too dry, and he was already parched. He'd been out and about Rukongai since he returned from Las Noches, quickly picking up where his simulacrum left off: Organizing members of the Third as he went out to rescue any recruits he sensed that had gotten themselves in over their heads. It wasn't a boring or even thankless task, and even Kionchi hadn't grown weary of playing the hero now and again. But compared to the thrill of the hunt, that freedom he'd experienced running wild in Las Noches, saving a couple dozen Pluses and Shinigami hardly compared.

Of course it wasn't without it pleasantries.

For one thing, he finally had an excuse to destroy his phone. Oh, sure, after an hour or so he'd have to report back and get a replacement. But for someone who didn't want to be bothered, he was lucky to have run itno a particularly violent hollow that had fried every electronic in a four block radius. The strange frog had used its aura to electrocute anyone that got too close. But once Kionchi was able to adjust to the resonance of its soul, he could get in close and dispatch it before it could sense him and execute the family of Ryoka it'd taken hostage. And while he knew sure his soul would return to normal eventually, he had a feeling the Fourth wouldn't take kindly to him returning to get a new phone while he was still a walking EMP.

The other bit of good news? He'd rescued and evacuated the last surviving Plus in this district almost twenty minutes ago. And yet there was no shortage of hollows. He was finally in his element: A target rich environment. The only question was who would be next...

A question answered with about as much subtly as a derailed freight train.

He disappeared in an instant, his body moving before his mind could even completely assess the situation. The distant explosion shook him to the core, his spiritual senses instinctively sharpening, double and triple checking his surroundings for any other signs of trouble. After all, he was already running headfirst into a complete catastrophe.

”Cheshire?!”

His hit the ground with enough force to leave a small crater, landing in the rubble that was once some poor soul's living room. His focus was strictly centered on her. The Arrancar with whom he was already dangerously familiar. He'd taken a particular interest in the ambitious kitten, convinced that her appetite for power, coupled with his support, would eventually give him the opportunity to overwhelm her aspect of death... and give him a first-hand look at what happens when a hollow found itself engorged with its own sin. But finding her here was about the worst possible scenario, for both of them. Finding her here was not part of his plans.

”What are you doin-?”

Blinking repeatedly, his brain finally processed what his eyes had already taken in. It wasn't the wreckage or her presence or even the blood that made him pause mid-sentence. Rather it was the mess on the stove that left his completely speechless, fire and cup coupled with the smell of burnt tea. The scene was so ridiculous that he couldn't help but lower his guard and giggle like a fool at what had to be the most disastrous attempt at making tea he'd ever seen.

Even in Rukongai, she never failed to amuse him.

WC: 914; TWC: 914