Old Hatreds (Stella, Kalama)

A scowl crossed the masked woman’s face as she looked down from the tall tree she was in. Beneath her were a group of white clothed individuals, weapons drawn, seemingly on the hunt for something or someone. Were they after her? Hollows? Doing some kind of training exercise? It didn’t fucking matter and as she moved to the very edge of the tree, she’d utter the release phase of her zanpakuto, her sword turning into a jagged purple coloured dagger, a hue that perfectly mirrored her anger filled eyes. They were close, too fucking close and the chance to slit their throats was all too tempting.

Waiting briefly for the group to spread out a little, Kalama would then make her mood, throwing her zanpakuto into the back of the closest target. The man would instantly begin to twitch and spasm, the powerful current that her blade conjured tearing through his body. Unable to do anything but stand there helplessly, he’d barely even react as Kalama would retract her dagger, jump up and cut his throat with a slash of her blade. It all happened too quickly and his body fell to the forestry floor in a heap.

She was gone in what seemed like a moment, flash stepping in behind another target, catching them with a powerful strike to the kidney to send them to drop them to their knees, before quickly snapping their neck with one cruel and fatal twist. There was no fucking about here and Kalama doubted that the fool even knew what had happened.

A shout was heard then and Kalama would nimbly dodge as an arrow came flying towards her, catapulting herself into the air, before summoning her Kido, unleashing a powerful Rikujokoro which held him in place. Following up swiftly, she’d simply throw her zanpakuto again, the blade catching him with a horrible thud as it penetrated his skull.

With three of them down, Kalama would flash step once again, retrieving her blade without a flinch. She could’ve sworn that there was one more and after briefly reaching out with her senses, a smirk would form under her mask, detecting her prey. Another use of her shunpo and she was right in front of the woman, spinning her body around to deliver an almighty Hakuda enhanced kick, hurling her backwards and hitting a tree. She struggled to climb up to her feet but Kalama was there, one finger pointing at the woman as the assassin released a Shakkaho from minimum range, ending another life.

Once the job was done, Kalama would briefly survey her work, before flash stepping back into the tree she’d started in. There was always the chance that there’d be more, after all.

This kid had more spirit than the rest of the useless pieces of shit but the attack was simply a grief stricken swing, allowing Kalama to easily side step the blow. Expecting the branch they were on to collapse though, the assassin would shunpo, reappearing on the forest ground. With her mask, it was usually difficult to truly get a look at her expression but all the woman would need to see was the look in her eyes. The green haired woman’s gaze was murderous, her spiritual pressure filled with anger and wrath. There was no mercy, no regret, no remorse to be found in her purple orbs. She relished in the death of those weak fools and this woman was next.

“Your useless kind should have been wiped out a long time ago. I’m just finishing what was started back then.” Her tone was bitter and dark, every word dripping with disgust.

With that, she’d take her dagger in hand and shunpo into close range of the woman, lunging out with her dagger as she attempted to connect with her horrific looking dagger. Her style was acrobatic and nimble, attempting to overwhelm the woman with a barrage of slashes, trying to find a way inside her guard. Every strike was filled with killing intent, wanting nothing more than to slaughter the woman before her and claim her head as a prize.

“Take your filthy hands off of me! You airbag chested bitch!” Kalama snapped, caught by the redhead and having to think fast when it came to countering the woman’s manoeuvre.

She wasn’t helpless though and as the slap came in towards her, the assassin would use her skill in Hakuda to harden her defences, taking much of the sting out of the strike although it did knock her head to one side due to the force. It was a venom fuelled strike and Kalama wouldn’t need to be struck again to know just how anger filled the Quincy was. Good. Let her be fucking angry. It would only make the fight more enjoyable.

Purple eyes burned with wrath in response to the blow and as Kalama’s masked face turned back to look at the redhead, her gaze alone could have melted lead. With her free hand, she’d point towards the woman, eyes narrowing as she used her spell, skipping the chant entirely. “Hadō #31 Shakkahō.” The flames would begin to build up rather quickly, with the assassin giving her enemy a clear choice. Let her go or get a face full of fire. Honestly, Kalama didn’t give a flying fuck which, either would give her the time she needed to continue her assault.

Detecting the woman’s presence behind her, Kalama would use her own shunpo to pretty much mirror what the Quincy had done, reappearing behind her. The difference, however, would be that Kalama would leave something behind, a clone that would look rather life-like. A simple trick on the face of it, the clone would actually be a little more threatening as soon enough, it would begin to break down, releasing a blast of energy that would definitely sting if the Quincy wasn’t careful. There was always another twist when it came to the assassin’s attacks.

The hatred was clear in the face of the masked woman and her thoughts were dwelling on just what she was going to do with this redheaded woman. She was better than the weak shit that had come across her first and the green haired Shinigami wanted to make her suffer all the more for it. Just knowing that the Quincy race was thriving again felt like a kick in he fucking stomach and Kalama would do everything in her power to put an end to it, even if she was the only person in the world who wished it to be done.

There was a glimmer of satisfaction as the Quincy was struck by her clone, the assassin pleased that she’d scored a hit on the redhead. Kalama hoped it stung and now she had an area to target in order to inflict more pain. That’s what the encounter was becoming, an excuse for her to inflict as much torment on this woman as humanly possible. Her disgust at the Quincy was beyond simply a difference in methods of beliefs, it was far deeper than that. She didn’t just want them beaten, she wanted them gone altogether. A goal that perhaps was beyond her or perhaps not but the green haired Shinigami wouldn’t rest until she had her answer, one way or the other.

It had to be said that the woman before her didn’t seem to be mixing up her attacks all that much and Kalama raised a brow as she again swung for her with full force. Rather than try to block the attack, the Shinigami would backflip, evading the blow and coming to a halt. Rolling her eyes at the woman, she’d ask, sounding almost disappointed. “Is swinging your axe like a mindless lumberjack all you have? Where’s your fucking bow? Your magic? Don’t tell me that you haven’t learned to do that much.”

Taking a firmer grip on her zanpakuto, she’d make a motion as though she was going to through it at her opponent but at the moment where she should have let go, five spiritual versions flew towards the Quincy instead, each containing just enough of the original’s lightning to cause a nasty shock if they struck.