What Are the Chances? [Akira/Mirai/Hana]

AKIRA TAIRITSU

The dusk began to settle on the outskirts of Kyoto, a cascading shift in both temperature and light as both began to drop gently, a labyrinth of a city which offered those who didn’t wish to be seen ample method to do so, perfect for Akira who was risking quite a bit not donning the gigai that concealed his spiritual pressure almost perfectly. It was still rather intense, even as it was forced into shackles, wrestled into imprisonment to be a mild blip at best, though this anxiety that someone was always after him didn’t have reinforcement for sometime now.

Each step taken within the narrow alleyways of Kyoto had a briskness to it, white overcoat hanging across lithe shoulders, snowy crown of long locks that swayed left to right and golden hues tracing across worn paper, thumb caressing the mid-section as two fingers acted as the spine against slightly torn leather. It was an exciting read, an account from a veteran of World War Three who had allegedly been on the front lines consistently.

What caused this daring track though?

He caught wind of a most exciting book, derived from the Vatican itself though the shipment he had been waiting for was delayed several times. A precious cargo for faith, currently residing in a cheap plastic bag around the wrist, informed to hurry here and the gigai couldn’t transport him quick enough.

"Breathe."

The soft mutterings of an anxiety that dare not reveal itself to any beyond his own musings, the wrist which held such cargo dropping slightly to caress the hilt of Rivu-aisan, trying to conceal the zanpaktou as best he could, albeit failing miserably. Its end was pushing against the overcoat, causing it to create an amusing imagery of a tail or someone a little too happy.

Mirai Takamatsu

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AKIRA TAIRITSU

Akira didn’t seem to notice anyone trailing him, though a natural anxiety which had plagued him since that unfortunate day still offered impulsive glances around his surrounding area, his golden hues a byproduct of a custom Kido. It was processing information at a far higher rate but also granting him insight into reiatsu points, traces and other forms of spiritual imprintation constantly. It was a trademark for anyone looking for him, to confirm that was indeed the “Kido Killer”

Each step within the shadow of all that is around most definitely led him into an intersection, idly tracing the words on a thin page of the book which had enticed him so to the degree of risking providing all forms senses onto the world around him. How long had it been since he had even shown himself on -a- field of battle, nevermind in recent years. The trek without a gigai felt like inviting danger, heartbeat pounding violently against his ribcage

"I really need to consider a coping mechanism. It’s kind of stupid we can barely handle an idle stroll without our body producing enough sweat to drench an ocean. Urgh.”

He exclaimed to the darkness around, most of his time spent within his own mind so mutterings outloud not only assisted with handling these brief moments of danger, in the heart of Shinigami land but also to remind himself that he was able to speak.

Mirai Takamatsu

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AKIRA TAIRITSU

Anxiety was a terrible thing though it would seem as he uttered those soft words, nothing of a dramatic capacity came to clash with him. Excellent. Maybe such a journey had gone without qualm or issue, nothing bar his own concerns that may have comulated in this idea that he wasn’t safe. The dusk above was truly settling, a beauti- Why was there an ankle?

Akira couldn’t compute fast enough the following strike that impacted his cranium, temple ringing out as disorientation quickly thrust itself across each nerve within his body, white coat fluttering violently as a twist of the body began to form. Such momentum thrust his back into the nearby dumpster, an odd peel of a banana dropping onto him, along with a crunch of metal.

What? Who? How did she- Mirai. Covert Operations division. No. No. No!

"Nargh.”

The man remained slumped for a moment, brain collecting the information of what just transpired as the Sight allowed him to process the former action. She was fast. Surgical. This was timed, no doubt, calculated strike to ring disorientation, thus his momentary blurriness yet offering a Gotei -honor- that they all loved to adorn like it mattered.

"Mirai. Please. Let us not do this, inform your home I am K.I.A. There is no need to condemn an already tormented man.”

He uttered softly, a brief moment as he began to get out of the concave, bringing both hands up in a act of submission: Then a sparkle of vicious yellow lightning roared out from his right palm, Bakudo 4#: Hainawa. The abandonment of the incantation making it less potent by a quarter, though altering the spell slightly for it to split in the middle, removing initial strength and impact for speed, one aiming to rope around the ankle whilst the other desired to bind wrist!

"My penance comes from the very air I breathe! ”

Akira snarled, stumbling to the right shortly after and placing his back against a building wall. It was to mitigate avenues of attack from this fighter.

Mirai Takamatsu

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AKIRA TAIRITSU

Was she running at him whilst her hands were bound? Did she have experience being bound? Akira. Cease. He had to focus on the severity of this situation, finding a section of Hainawa had found purchase but this Mirai was tenacious, bringing her body upward in a Shunpo. He altered his deduction. She was far faster than he anticipated, initially believing it was a combination of speed and ambush. No. Mirai could have ended his life with this level of tact.

Mirai manifested above him, back thrusting into the wall as her body twisted to compensate for the bound situation she currently found herself in. The yellow binding Bakudo acting as a makeshift garrote, joy. He rapidly focused on the small movement of his neck as both hands raised to grasp the wrists, feeling the surge of reiatsu dig into flesh, chafing and causing inflammation as her strength easily out did his own. Bakudo 8#: Seki.

A blue orb began to manifest in the small space between throat and Hainawa, before Akira let go with the attempt to allow the incantation abandoned Bakudo to take the strike, a simple spell that repulsed anything it made contact with, often using its own momentum with the idea to send her catapulting opposite him, regardless though, Hainawa would finally fade shortly after.

"The G-Gotei are self absorbed hypocrites! I-If my penance here is worth naught, who decides that I am worth more or less?! I’m begging you to reconsider this action!”

Akira claimed during the choking through gritted teeth, though Mirai might pick up that his hand constantly made a move for his zanpaktou, though before reaching the hilt, clenched and retracted rapidly.

Mirai Takamatsu

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AKIRA TAIRITSU

Akira was finally able to breathe, letting out a raspy wheeze before he too began to move after the Bakudo was successful in the clever workings, boots scraping against the ground and planting the heels to the side whilst golden hues located her. Mirai then drew her blade, a grit of the teeth following suit as both hands raised in a defensive stance, more so akin to a caster than a CQC fighter.

She halted briefly.

This was an opportunity to offer some insight into his situation, life of anxious hell was not a life he desired to live for eternity nor believe it was right to judge him without the entire context.

"Think for a moment instead of playing blade within the night. You’ve got a report on me have you not? You were just bound on my shoulders, we both acknowledge the dangers of higher Hadō. Do you think if I was so cold I’d have restricted myself?! There are citizenry just around the corner, why would I hold back?”

The man desperately tried to get her to acknowledge the truth behind these words, though beads of sweat and trickle of vermillion from the roundhouse that had slightly broken flesh, which marred paler skin and dirtied locks suddenly became more evident as he bit his lower lip. It was easy to tell those golden hues began to dart around his surrounding area.

No. No. Not again.

A panic began to set as Akira’s hand was quaking over the hilt of Rivu-aiasan, mutterings of a foul nature and forced imagery being projected through the sight Akira was so proud of by the inner creature: Zathrusta. It offered sadistic flashes of Mirai in unfortunate situations, acts of a sickening nature at the hands of a powerful Akira as it begged the Shinigami to let him play, to bring to heel the arrogance of this bacteria that so defiantly snarked at them. They deserved freedom. She had to die. She had to understand the folly of her way.

"That’s not me. T-That’s not us! We-We can’t-””

Yet all this was drastically interrupted by an incoming shriek, a banshee like wail of a Hollow whom had been hiding himself akin to a chameleon, a pair of large, scything claws coming from the manlurished looking entity that managed to slash across Akira’s left side. The man barely able to dodge due to his inner turmoil, body twisting as a desperate Shunpo saw his form vanish with an animalistic instinct to run. Only to find himself a few streets over, falling into a nearby wall with a harsh thud.

Mirai Takamatsu

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