Sleeves Wet with Dew [Fuuen, Erika]

Despite having gotten in a hit, that didn't necessarily raise Fuuen's confidence in the situation. If anything, it only made him suspect that Erika would adapt further, and he knew he was quite correct as she switched to another blade. He had dealt with others who utilized blades of such a length, of course, but assuming that from her would have been foolish.

Her stance was one that he knew would be difficult to approach, especially if he maintained a reactive approach as he had to this point. So, instead, he shifted stances entirely, into the Third of the Ukiyo Hakkei, the Clearing Wave style. His blade angled forward, a relatively orthodox stance, his foot forward and his whole body tensed. Aggression was key, and while it certainly did not come naturally to him, he remembered the fallen foe from whom he had inherited the style.

His eyes opened more, a fire behind them that seemed almost not his own, and he immediately opened with a horizontal slash, not wide or overly strong, but calculated, ready to follow up on any opening.

While Fuuen had anticipated what would presumably happen, what he had failed to consider was the speed with which it would happen. As their two blades made contact, Fuuen knew that the situation had become extremely disadvantageous, and he could do little as she threw him off balance with her step.

He was now trapped against her, and he allowed himself a faint smile as he conceded defeat to her. After all, what else could he do in this situation?

"I believe you've taken this particular match, Vice Captain."

"No, ma'am, it is not."

Fuuen sheathed his blade once more, a certain degree of reverence even in that simple act. He had admittedly been intending to utilize the Yuudachi less, but this had been a special circumstance. He still took pride in this sword, even if he wished to remove himself from it for the sake of the position he had taken up.

"I have always had this blade with me. It accompanied me in life, and it has continued to do so even after death. I suppose, in that respect, it has crossed the boundary between those two existences."

The idea that such a thing was fairly exceptional was not necessarily lost on Fuuen, but the greater implications of it simply did not concern him. All that mattered, in his view, was how it carried into the art that he pursued.

"If I knew the answer to that particular question, I think that would provide me an unfathomable amount of insight into both myself and my blade."

Fuuen's hand rested on the blade a touch longer as it lay in his sheathe, but his attention had naturally returned to his superior. This was a topic he had spent a good deal of time thinking on, but he had yet to find any concrete answers. He would rather like to, of course, but he would be lying if he said that he knew exactly how to do that.

"I have wondered if my attachment to this blade has interfered with my ability to connect to a zanpakuto properly."

That particular question actually caught Fuuen off guard just a touch, if only because he had never been asked that question before. At least, not in a situation that he believed it was a genuine question, and certainly not in a friendly environment. He still hesitated just a touch, but after a moment, he removed the sheathe from his back, and held it carefully out to Erika.

"Of course, Vice Captain."

He didn't know what she might expect to find from the sword. As far as he knew, it was simply a sword, nothing more and nothing less. A sword bonded to Fuuen's own soul, certainly, and one which encompassed the whole of his being, but a sword without any spirit or existence of its own.