Broken Wings [Closed | Shinkiro]

Shinkiro sat at the bar of a quaint restaurant in one of the lower districts of Rukongai, a half-empty bowl of ramen and a bottle of sake situated in front of him. A peach pocky stick swayed idly as it was chewed away bit by bit and the smoldering remains of a cigar precariously balanced on the edge of an ashtray nearby. His usual stoic expression had dipped further into what could be considered abject boredom. It was one of his routine daily patrols through Rukongai, yet this one had been even more uneventful than usual. So much so that he had elected to spending the entire time here in this restaurant and simply monitoring the districts through spiritual radar. Of course there were the usual incursions of small Hollow packs or lone stragglers, but nothing that had really required his direct involvement.

Nothing worthwhile ever really happens out here...how boring.

A low sigh whispered from his lips as the thought lingered in his mind. But even if nothing hardly ever happened, he couldn't deny that the lulls in activity that these patrols provided were a nice reprieve from his worries. At least, from one worry in particular; not so much of a worry as more of a dreaded annoyance, one that he would gladly do without if he could. Omnipresent as always, Kuro's defiant leer scalded the depths of his soul, sometimes becoming even more pronounced than the reassuring vigilance of his Zanpakuto spirits. His teeth crunched down a bit harder than before, snapping the pocky stick in half with a sharp click. Another respiration, this one begotten from frustration rather than unrest. Why had this happened to him? His life had been so much simpler when he didn't have to worry about a proverbial guillotine perpetually hanging over his head. It likely wouldn't be so bad dealing with this if it weren't for the fact that nearly every superior of his undoubtedly wanted him experimented on at the very least.

Absently he raised his hand, staring at the fluctuating spark of reiatsu as it transitioned from bright red, to blood, to onyx, then back to its original hue. Although; there were also a few perks to his "condition". He had noticed that he was much stronger now than he was before all of this had happened. Briefly he toyed with the thought of what it would be like to harness the full breadth of that power and completely wield it. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when a loud bang rumbled through the building. The accompanying tremor shook its foundations, not enough to cause any real damage, but enough to spill the bottle of sake and send his cigar rolling onto the ground. His expression was solid and unreadable, an even stare watching the steadily pooling puddle of wasted sake. His gaze fell to the crumpled and ruined cigar below, watching each weakened ember dim and flicker out.

A slow inhale, then measured exhale. Rising from his seat, he turned and casually walked out of the restaurant. Although there seemed to be no change to his expression, anyone that looked closely would be able to see the slowly throbbing vein on his temple; he was quite annoyed. Upon stepping outside, his gaze slid over to the small gathering of people beside the restaurant. In the midst of the crowd, a small boy lay huddled and barely conscious, a small puddle of blood gathered beneath his head.

"Which way?" A coldly simple question, yet the combination of his tone and the subdued irritation beneath was enough to convey his message. Only one of them managed to work up the courage to respond, though it had only been a trembling finger pointed down the street behind him. Shinkiro gave no gratitude, turning his head to look in the indicated direction then vanishing shortly after. A moment later he appeared directly in Mirabelle's path, skidding to a short stop ahead of her. Slowly he turned to face her, the annoyance still continuing the slow throb of the vein in his temple.

"That cigar...was a Black Dragon...eleven hundred bucks a pop. Not only that, you spilled my sake. You owe me for both." The corner of his eye twitched as the irritation spread further, thin wisps of his reiatsu beginning to leak out. With each passing moment, his fury was becoming more and more evident.

Word Count: 738
Total Word Count: 738

The Songbird looked back into the stranger's angry eyes with apathy. She didn't care about his petty cigar, nor about his cheap sake that could likely be purchased at any convenience store. There was a dull sensation of the man exuding reiatsu, his anger pushing him to the brink of losing control. Was his inner balance so frail that all it took was but a mild inconvenience to send him over? It was almost laughable.

"I'm sure Commander Ine can take care of those expenses for you, I haven't the time." while they were mere words scrawled in the dirt, the kanji were perfect and filled with condescension. It was also a line the man before her likely wouldn't take lightly. Despite the man's seemingly obvious physical prowess, it wasn't that he was trying to use to domineer her. Those little wisps of reiatsu she felt were the threat, unspoken but still evident.

A smile, the first sign she'd shown of any emotion, quirked in the corner of her mouth as the edges of her lips curled in satisfaction. Much like a pet cozying up to it's owner there was the familiar and exhilarating charge of Hado flitting across the surface of her skin as she stood before the man. The smell of ozone permeated the air like a too strong perfume, the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck standing on end.

Her soul, for the time being, was still. There was no turmoil, no anger or animosity toward the man, all she wanted was to be left to her brokenness. This was her warning, the answer to his reiatsu's call, she would not be held here. Not without a fight. 

[WC: 285][TWC: 918]

There was something familiar about this woman. Shinkiro was certain that he had never met her before just now, yet as he stood glaring down at her, he could sense an uncanny darkness within her. A parasitic malice intertwined intricately with the telltale signature of a Shinigami. For just a moment, his annoyance subsided, replaced by a gnawing curiosity that prodded him to place just why she seemed familiar to him. It was the nature of that malignancy he had sensed that warranted such focus. He felt that he was close to the answer, yet it lingered just barely outside of his grasp. Deeper he searched, sifting through the varied aspects of her spiritual presence until finally he placed it. Unfortunately, the answer that he found was one that left a particularly sour taste; the darkness he had sensed was an Inner Hollow. This girl, whoever she may be, also tread the path that he himself walked. These circumstances, he was quickly realizing, we not as isolated as he had originally thought.

The moment of epiphany was subsequently interrupted and his irritation returned as his focused was drawn towards the dirt road beneath him. With each kanji that was written, Shinkiro's expression tempered and his gaze sharpened. By the time the message had been completely scrawled into the dirt, Shinkiro's lips were little more than a thin line, a smoldering glare trailing wisps of reiatsu from the corners of his eyes. The words themselves weren't what annoyed him; he actually found amusement from them and her candor. No, what actually annoyed him was the fact that she had remained silent, instead electing to write her response. Was she trying to piss him off? He had already been bored prior to this, adding annoyance on top of that was a recipe for trouble---trouble mostly for her.

"Oi..." A flat murmur. Shinkiro's visage suddenly vacated, any traces that he had been annoyed vanishing in a mere instant. There was a quick flare of his spiritual pressure, an accompanying rush of his aura billowing out to clear away the condescending scrawl at their feet. As quickly as it had lashed out, the crimson flare of reiatsu receded, resuming its subdued linger right beneath the surface. At a moment's notice, it could and likely would be released at its full breadth; for now he would keep it tightly bottled and suppressed.

"Are you fucking with me?" His question was blunt equally as blank as the prior declaration he had uttered. With the exception of an eyebrow quirked by the faintest margin, Shinkiro's expression remained constant when the smirk broke upon the silent woman's face. More than that, he saw the shift in her reiatsu that coincided with her changing temperament. Yet there was something else that he could sense as well, something more tangible; she had began to channel her reiryoku, a reactionary preparation to invoke Hado. Exactly what spell she intended to utilize, however, was unknown at present. One fist nestled in the palm of the other, there was a consecutive rattle as the knuckles of the clenched fist were cracked.

"You sure that's a good idea, girly? I can tell you right now that it's not, and it most definitely won't end well for you."

Word Count: 550
Total Word Count: 1,288