Four-Faced Song: Summer's Solstice [Makoto, Solo].

Jinzen. To understand the nature of one's blade and grow with it, this sword was integral to her role as a shinigami and her pursuit of growth. Thus does she find herself once more in the difficultly traversed mountains of her inner-world, the winds were calm which made her a little hopeful at least due to the fact that the weather and seasons seemed to change depending on her mood. When she had reached the depths of her depression the mountains were even more treacherous due to the downpour, the icy rocks and the waist-high snow that made climbing it an impossible feat.

In order to succeed a clear mind was required and she hoped that she had gotten closer to it. Life was a lot of suffering and she had closed herself off to cope with it but it hadn't worked, she needed to accept that suffering to overcome it and make a path through it. So she'd face Shimensoka with a clear heart.

“About time she arrives. It’s rare for her to be late.”

The amused tone of a fiery woman stood opposite of her. A peculiar sight which earned her a little smirk when Makoto stared at her, plainly hiding her confusion under the veil of stoicism.

“Hmm? She seems confused, shall I explain it to her? She finally seems inclined to listen after all. She spouts dribble as an expert of the zanpakuto and yet she is hesitant to follow her own teachings. Dear, dear. So easily swayed and defined by her own pathetic suffering that she closes off her Heart to the world.”

The vermilion nymph sighed to herself and did not help clarify the situation at all, in reality the woman acted like she was having a conversation with herself and talking to invisible forces.

“Don’t be surprised, her ability to see the way that leads to the South entails that she has grown like a starving tree finally being fed. I see she wishes to hold a sword, it’s convenient that I have four of them for her.”

With a girly chuckle the woman waved her hand and made four sleek katanas that fell and stood up in the ground around her.

“You have some nerve to talk about me like that when you’re the one acting a little pretentious, don’t you?”

She went for her own blade but dismissed the idea, dashing at the closest one of the woman’s four swords and claiming it as her own. Always one to provoke a fight no matter what she looked like. At least that was the plan until she found herself yanking at a sword that refused to budge.

For a moment she considered dropping her hold and using another means. Her own sword or even just unarmed combat perhaps and yet she hesitated to keep her hand on the finely crafted red sword which begged for attention. Why exactly did it resonate with her and capture her attention to the point of enchanting her so?

“Ufufu. She sees the familiarity in it. I wonder if its name is still amongst her memories.”

The woman seemed just a touch curious, studious over its master’s actions by lingering on the blade and being unable

“She does, she does. That’s why she can’t let go of it, isn’t it? Ufufu. Just like how she could not get over her unresolved mother issues for so long. Is that why she kept seeing Kocchin and Ryuuchan her mother?”

Was the spirit trying to provoke its master or just being very condescending, she spoke plainly and still in the abstract like she was talking to the air around her.

“Mmph. Are you mocking me by showing me my father’s craftsmanship?”

Makoto tried tugging it more but it wouldn’t budge, why did it feel so heavy? A sword shouldn’t weigh this much yet nothing about it suggested something was amiss. It was just a regular sword. Did all the swords have this issue? Probably.

If this sword was like this Makoto had no illusions that the others would not be the same, it seemed this was almost identical to the power of Shimensoka East to manifest additional body pieces. Makoto presumed that all of these swords were also identical as a result.

“Ufufu, she can’t lift it and yet she persists to grab it. Perhaps the others might be more forgiving to her. A sword is as heavy as the heart of the one that wields it.”

She explained, floating over to one of the other swords and lifting it up like it was a regular sword to illustrate a point and turning towards her master. Now that she’d shown her that the feat was possible and the test had been laid, the fiery lady took a few testing swings and grinned.

“Perfect, now she will draw her weapon and face me if she shall have our power.”

Walking towards her master like she had all the time in the world, the spirit swung her sword at the shinigami that was still struggling with the sword. She’d let it go or she’d be skewered and the spirit could be satisfied by demonstrating that the shinigami was still not worthy to wield their power.

I’m going to lose.

Her heart felt heavy at the realisation that if she persisted with this course of action then she would fail this test and yet she felt burdened by the fact that if she did let go of this blade then she would’ve failed herself as well. If she could not lift this sword then she would lose but if she let it go then she would fail.

She couldn’t fail. She couldn’t remain powerless. She needed to pass this test and so she pulled and yanked at the sword like she was begging for it to budge for her. No success, not when she used hakuda or any kind of leverage. It was hopeless. This test was rigged from the beginning and she hated it.

I’m going to lose.

Makoto thought while standing there and staring at the sword that brought painful memories back to her mind. A crying little girl with wet red eyes and white-hair who had been pushed into helping her father that day with his blacksmithing, running inside after burning her hands and crying to her mother to try and make it better, being comforted and reassured by her mother until she felt better.

That was a nice memory wasn’t it? A nice memory with faces which caused pain and as a result had been pushed to the back of her mind. She missed those memories but they were just that, events that were buried after they caused more pain to her for a girl that didn’t want to feel pain.

“Night, night she goes. I’ll blow her off the mountain and then she’ll have to crawl back up.”

The red-haired woman mused as she finally got there and brought the sword down, halting at the master’s shoulder rather than cutting her in two. Was she even paying attention to her? The fiery little nymph wondered and got a little frustrated at the situation.

“Will she not retaliate? Where is her bravado that she comes with? Aha, perhaps she’s been overcome with dread at this one’s power.”

She mused to herself and chuckled, happy to gloat at the woman that had accepted defeat.

“I’m not scared. Actually I feel kind of nice right now.”

It was a pretty sword and though she didn’t have the talents of a blacksmith she thought it was a beautiful work of art for something that could come out of a place like that crummy old Sabitsura, how did something like that come out of a ghetto such as that one? Why’d he spend so much time working on this red sword when he could’ve rested? Waste all that time and effort, the funds to make it as well.

“I’m admiring my father’s sword and I’ll show you how hard he worked on it.”

She pulled the sword up just a little. It gave but still remained in the ground, she wasn’t concerned with the fact that she might not win, she may not succeed in this trial and go home with empty hands for her labour. For the moment she just wanted to wield this sword and have some pride in the memories of her youth, she lamented that they weren’t here anymore and would give anything for them to come back and see how far she’s grown after they died but she couldn’t do that.

So she’d accept it rather than run from it. She’d accept that she acted stronger than what she was and always had to push away her doubts, Makoto would accept that suffering and look for a pathway to overcome it than be controlled by it.

All she had to do was pull out the sword.

“Whatever she says. I’m tired of her prattle, I’m going to make her think twice about asking me for help.”

The manifestation whined and drew back her sword with the intent to end this nonsense of her master’s revelation, it didn’t help that she had already drawn it a bit and she was concealing her own worry and doubts now that she’d seen it budge from its spot. If she waited any longer then she’d lose.

“Now, go awa-”.

She didn’t get the rest of her sentence out when she felt the sword grow heavy in her hand, dragging her down from her position hovering in the air to kneel on the ground and grow flustered. Frustrated and filled with anger like a temperamental child at being rejected.