Old Hatreds (Stella, Kalama)

It didn’t seem as if the Quincy was going to attack her through the smoke and the wounded Shinigami would attempt to leap on that show of weakness. Kalama had to push now while she had the chance and options came and went through her mind, before coming to a dead halt at which one to take. The redhead had asked to be hit with her best and as Kalama allowed her rage to overcome her, the assassin would begin her powers of both Hakuda and Kido, manipulating them in such a way that they surrounded her form, taking on a rather intimidating view. This was her ace and as she fully committed fully to the technique, she’d utter a single word.

“Shunko!”

Her spiritual pressure instantly increased greatly, her power growing by a number of times. It was both a wonderful and yet almost sensation for the green haired woman, as new as she still was to the technique but any fears were hurled aside, burnt to ash. The back of her outfit would be blasted off entirely but she cared not, as the power of her Shunko continued to build. Her form would gain a fiery hue, burning heat coming from it, yet it looked unfinished, a sign that Kalama hadn’t yet come to master the ability.

That didn’t matter to her at that point and doing her best to sense the Quincy through the smoke, Kalama would Shunpo into close range, unleashing a mighty punch with her left hand, her flaming fist barreling towards the face of her opponent. There was no fucking about now and her purple eyes would blaze with the same fire that she was radiating. She wanted this woman down and out. Now.

The feeling that her Shunko gave her was something that Kalama was very quickly becoming almost addicted to. It caught her off guard every time but that was only another part of why she adored it. Kalama’s zanpakuto had never increased her strength when released and the assassin had reasoned that perhaps she simply hadn’t unlocked its secrets or some kind of shit like that but now it made so much more sense. Her power didn’t come from her sword, it came from the arts from where she was among the best. The fiery form she was in now was her power and it felt so right, so murderously right.

It was obvious that the Quincy was on her last legs and Kalama watched her struggle, eyes still aflame due to her Shunko. She looked at the woman as a predator would its prey and there was not the slightest hint of mercy or remorse. This was what she loved to do and beneath the mask, hidden from the world, a sadistic smile would grow on her face. Even the pain in her side, nor the slight ringing in her ears could dampen this.

Yet the fire wasn’t under her complete control and as she closed in on the woman, a plume of flame would leave her hand without her permission, scorching the grass it struck. “Fuck!” She replied in answer to the display, irritated by her own lack of command over her power.

Looking down at the woman once she got close enough, she’d sneer. “Come on, Airbags, are you going to go out on your knees or on your feet?”

There was a spike in the woman’s spiritual pressure and Kalama assumed that meant that her taunt had managed to stir something within her opponent. That was good. It simply meant that the green haired woman could beat her up even more and as the assassin tried to get a handle on her own powers, her fiery form briefly became more clear as she temporarily forced it under her control. How long would that last? Not fucking long but enough for the mask wearer to do what needed to be done. This woman had annoyed her to a level that went beyond the natural hatred that Kalama felt to the redhead’s race. Killing Quincy was as natural to the petite warrior as breathing, something that she’d learned to do over a millenia ago. It was the last order that she’d ever followed as a member of the Gotei, one she still followed today.

The reaction to the battered girl’s taunt was rather swift, as Kalama moved her arms, channelling the power of her Shunko through them. The risk to herself was high for using any technique while using it but who fucking cared now? Annihilating this woman was worth whatever price Kalama would have to pay in return. A little pain was nothing compared to the elation that would come from taking this woman’s corpse and pinning it to the front gates of the Quincy fucking home base. It was something she’d always wanted to do but Kalama had never found the right Quincy to do it too, one who pushed her buttons too much.

Her shunpo would be incredibly fast, probably as fast as Kalama could move, her form vanishing in a moment. She’d then reappear beside the Quincy, hurling one flaming fist towards her body, before attempting to unleash an almighty uppercut to the woman’s jaw. It was a swift combination, filled with all of the hate that Kalama had for the woman, her race and everything else in this fucking hopeless world. Her strikes would give off such intense heat but there was a price, as so focused was the assassin on ending the woman, her defences would come down, allowing herself to give in completely to her Shunko and its fiery wrath.

The force of their combined spiritual pressure not only sent Kalama backwards but she ended up striking the tree opposite as well, causing her to tumble to the ground, her Shunko disappearing instantly. That had been a mighty last strike and the assassin could feel her body aching like crazy, pain wracking through her system. The Quincy had managed to build up a lot of power then and even the green haired Shinigami was forced to admit that she’d be completely taken by surprise by it. The wind was completely knocked out of her for a few moments and as she scrambled over to her front to see her opponent, she struggled to see much of anything for a moment or two.

Unable to find her foe and with her body trembling, the Shinigami would manage to push herself up although on rather shaky legs, determined to find out whether she had finally managed to kill her opponent. She’d stumble, groan and utter more swear words than she’d probably uttered in her life but finally, Kalama would come across the woman, lying unconscious by a tree. The Shinigami could still feel the woman’s pressure and while it was weak, there was no doubt that she was still living.

For a few moments, Kalama would watch, as if she was battling with herself for a moment. Here she was, finally with the chance to put the redhead out of her misery and she hesitated? What the fuck was going on? It irritated her beyond belief but as she tried to gather her thoughts, another option would cross her mind. After all the trouble that this girl had put her through, the Shinigami’s mind turned to the idea of perhaps putting her through a little more pain. Perhaps this woman was worth having a little fun with and as that thought came into her head, she’d point a finger at the woman and wearily start to cast a couple of kido spells, adding a twist to her old favourites. They’d bind the woman, tightly wrapping her with colourful strands of spiritual energy, locking her arms behind her while her legs would be forced together too. Out of spite, she’d add a couple of rather unnecessary bindings too, which would no doubt cause discomfort for the woman when she awoke.

When it was done, Kalama would cast one last spell, a basic Hainawa that would wrap around the redhead’s leg, before the Shinigami would start to walk deeper into the forest, dragging the helpless Quincy along with her.

The torment had just begun.