An Cold Abyss, Walking Unfethered (Open)

MORIKAWA MIZU | 2nd Division Vice Captain

TAKING IT SERIOUS | END POST

UNOHANA RETSU | BLOODLETTER

So, this beast wasn't just any Hollow. Their kind had changed over the years. Rarely were the shapes and sizes reminiscent of the Hollows of yore. But this one... It was a rare sight indeed. "A Vasto Lorde..." Those were the first of five words spoken before the attack hit. A cracked pane of translucent energy followed by a second, almost-untouched stood between Retsu and the Hollow. Two Dankū had been hastily cast in order to block most of the attack.

Retsu landed as the building she was standing on crumbled. She placed a hand on her Zanpakutō. "Lieutenant. This is what we would have called a threat of the highest caliber. I would advise you not to hold back." Retsu had an inkling that Mizu had just released her Shikai, but that wasn't a 100% certainty. She might have missed the release phrase while defending. Glancing around, Retsu devised a plan.

Retsu raised her free hand. "Hadō 57: Daichi Ten'yō." The Hollow had provided a plethora of targets for this Kidō. Chunks of rubble rose into the sky. It filled the area between ruined buildings. Normally, the spell would then launch the rubble at her target. Instead, she cast another spell. Orange tendrils of Reiryoku extended between the chunks and anchoring them to the few upright buildings. Those chunks were now suspended midair—allowing her to leap up the debris and cast again. "Bakudō 21: Sekienton."

The area above the street was now covered in red smoke. The low-hanging cloud that hid the debris was now her hiding ground. The rasping sound of a blade exiting a sheath cut through the destructive silence. She hesitated for a moment as she felt the Cero Oscuras back in the Seireitei. Perhaps she had chosen incorrectly. The other strong presence back near that source... Well, she at least felt that he could hold his own long enough. This was a storm of strange coincidences. She would investigate after eliminating this Hollow.

The sound of high-tension wires snapping indicated she was on the move again. A fridge-sized chunk of debris flew from the red cloud at Rey. Soon, another of smaller size did from a different direction. And again. And again. Her attack would crescendo with a crack of lightning—"Hadō 4: Byakurai." It was not a wide-spread destructive strike, but one meant to test his armor. Would a concentrated blast be enough to punch a hole? And even if it didn't, she was providing ample distraction for Mizu to launch an attack of her own.

Hope is a Disease

Sieviente | Cold

END POST | Steel

UNOHANA RETSU | BLOODLETTER

Retsu looked to the fleeing Hollow. She could let it return to the Seireitei. She could let it run rampant. She grimaced. Such an act would be throwing her hands up. "I can't do anything about it." She was not so pathetic. She glanced to the Lieutenant from a break in the Sekienton cloud. "Do not follow." And although she did not have the speed, Retsu would make up with it with Shunpo. Again she maintained her altitude—gaining it when she could.

Retsu caught up to Rey, but she did not overtake him at first. She aimed her hand ahead of where he would be. She spoke a litany of a chant. "Hadō 88: Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō." The Kidō carved a crater right before Rey's feet, leading him into a makeshift arena. There would be death and destruction by her hand. Those were sacrifices she would make. With a Shunpo, she landed in front of the armored Hollow. This time, she did not have empty hands. No, the curved katana was drawn and sleepily aimed to the side.

"Perhaps I am speaking to a beast that can not understand words, but thank you. Thank you for showing me how incompetent they have all become. I have no regrets about stepping onto this battlefield now." Retsu held her blade aloft. "I will do what they could not." She gripped the blade above the tsuba with her free hand.

Her hand ran across the blade, coating it in blood. So much blood. Ah, no. The blade became blood. It became what it would soon drink.
It began to flood in the Rukongai. A crimson mist enveloped the crater, and an ankle-deep pool of blood stagnated at the bottom—filled from the crying blade and unseen waterfalls.

Was it Yachiru or Retsu that was standing in the pool of blood? Even she did not know. She did not care. Instead of resolving her identity crisis, she attacked. The blade of blood whipped out in a series of arcs—crescent slashes aimed at removing the Hollow's arms in multiple places soared through with macabre glee. But the former Captain did not stand still. She dashed to the side in a closing arc, her blade dipping into the pool like a cyclist's leg during a sharp turn.

She let Minazuki drink until it had its fill. She thrust the blade towards Rey this time; a lance of the blood aimed at his midsection. But even then, this woman was not letting up. All the while she was attacking with one hand, she held something in her other. A long, white pole. She waited seconds that felt like minutes to throw the pole. "Bakudō 62: Hyapporankan." The pole split into dozens of equal-length rods—each aiming to perhaps knock Rey off balance, if not outright pin him. Whoever she was, she would heed her own advice given to the Lieutenant. She was done playing.

I am the Cure

Sieviente | Cold

END POST | Steel

UNOHANA ? | BLOODLETTER

She wasted no words. This opponent was someone who needed no praise nor scorn. She wasn't even sure it could understand her words. Perhaps it was a European Hollow, or perhaps it was just so driven that it needed no words itself. Such trivial distinctions did not matter in the moment. One arm flew from the Hollow—landing with a sickening splat. The rest of her strikes were not so successful. Expected, but a pity nonetheless.

She could feel it returning. It wasn't a thrill. There was no elation behind her swings. There wasn't even determination. What made her lips ache to curl was adrenaline. It had been far too long since her body was pushed like this. If she had felt herself aging like Yamamoto, she may have not survived the sudden rush. But no, even though he had aged, she always felt her status as the one weapon kept in the back of the arsenal. Well taken care of, but hopefully never needed. And yet, it was apparent that she had failed. She had been the complacent one. She relied on her peers to make sure She wasn't needed.

Look at how that had turned out.

The Hollow was pinned by Her Kidō. Her younger self might have opted to finish it off from a distance, but She was still rusty. She was still waking up. It cost her. She had been about to swing when the Hollow suddenly burst free. Dormant instincts had her raise Her sword arm. She should have backstepped, but that was hindsight. She felt bones shatter like a glass vase thrown before a train. Where the solid forms of Her arm's bones ended, they broke the skin. It was a macabre sight as She did not backstep.

She grabbed the dropped hilt of Minazuki with her other hand mid-fall. She did not call out the Kidō's name as She pointed the hilt at the Hollow. What started as a gust of wind soon rotated rapidly into a tornado as the incantation-less Tenran blew forth. Even if he didn't move, She would allow Herself to be forced backwards and away. As She moved, Her hand slid away and over Her arm. A pale-green glow covered Her gnarled arm.

The arm made sickly noises as it knitted itself together. The bone slid back through the skin and the gash closed. She flexed Her hand. It was a rushed job and wasn't perfect. She would need to break it again to heal it fully. But there was one thing evident now—She would not win a direct contest of blows. She began speaking another incantation while making another dash towards but not to the Hollow. "Limit of the thousands hands, respectful hands, unable to touch the darkness. Shooting hands unable to reflect the blue sky."

She let Minazuki drink more from the bloodlake as She dashed. Gripping the sword with both hands, She pulled it free of the bloodlake and nearly emptied the blade's blood reservoir with a crescent of the liquid that extended over the height of the crater—a crimson shark's fin that could be followed to where the two unseen combatants waged a gruesome war just of their own. It strained the hastily-healed arm. She would likely be able to do something like that only once more.

I am the Cure

Sieviente | Cold

END POST | Steel

UNOHANA ? | BLOODLETTER

Broken bones. Bruised skin. Cracked ribs. Lacerations. Blunt-force trauma. As debris and the opponent's raw strength hit, She healed. She would not die here. Not to this. Despite how infuriatingfascinating this Hollow was turning out to be, She wouldn't let it have the satisfaction of a victory over Her. There was no time to finish the incantation for the Kidō She was preparing. She let the energy dissipate as She focused on healing the attack thrown at Her.

But She was beginning to feel the strain of time. It had been centuries since the last time Minazuki drank its fill. It had been equally as long since the last time She fought with such vigor. She almost felt crows feet forming as she was reminded of Her age. But then again, Yamamoto had fought until his untimely end. But then it dawned on her. Was it so untimely? Was he not past his prime? This was not the place to debate. This was a place of bloodshed.

The bloody mist and rain painted the Rukongai in macabre crimson. Although the pool of blood was significantly reduced, She was not done. It would refill, and it would once again be a lake of death. She let the Zanpakutō drink to reshape itself. The Hadō came without name. It was a van-sized wedge of opaque white energy that split the shallow pool as it raced towards the Hollow.

But She did not expect it to do anything. Instead, a pair of crossed crescents of blood followed in its shadow—her haori flapping behind them. She knew how fast the Kidō moved and timed it well. It would likely splash against his chest or against the wicked blade he carried. But even that wasn't the truth of Her attack. Above, She was hidden amongst the rain and mist. Her Haori was discarded in the initial attack. And now, She fell upon Rey like a mortar shell. Her blade, enhanced with Her Reiryoku, was held again with both hands as She aimed to split his left from his right with one of the basic but well-designed Zanjutsu techniques—Suikawari. She was no longer wanting to keep this at a distance. It just wasn't feasible.entertaining

I am the Cure

Sieviente | Cold

END POST | Steel

UNOHANA YACHIRU | BLOODLETTER

There was now no point in denying herself and who she was. This was not Retsu that was fighting. This was not some ex-Captain who healed because of duty and a desire for peace. This was the woman who dared to establish the title of Kenpachi. Her attack had landed, but not how she would have liked. She would have preferred it to simply cut the Hollow in half. Despite being deep within the Hollow's shoulder, it was not deep enough for her liking.

Yachiru let the blade dissipate as it got stuck. No point in staying there. She brought her hand up from her sword. This was not to defend, but to counter. For a brief moment, the two held a tense grasp on the other's hand. She did not let the grasp last long. With a combination of natural athleticism and Hohō, Yachiru's jump took her over the Hollow's back—her own arm twisting behind her and making sounds similar to the Hollow's from before as she used a low-level Kidō to break whatever grasp he had. Her hand was broken and charred; and she only did a quick heal to deter permanent damage.

Yachiru could continue to try to whittle this Hollow down to size. Though this time, her knife would be bigger. She held tightly onto Minazuki's handle as a geyser of blood shot from the pool below her. She was in the air again. She stared down at the Hollow. At the crater. At the Rukongai. At the Soul Society. She witnessed explosions in nearly every direction, but mostly concentrated in the Seireitei. Attacks that could cleave mountains in half were being fired off left and right at this point, but the fighting did seem to be dying down.

But Yachiru did not stay distracted. She stared at the Hollow. She was already not holding back. Why not go at it a bit harder? "Hadō 99: Goryūtenmetsu." The crater rumbled beneath the Hollow's feet as cracks caused by sanguine energy ripped through the bowl the two had created. The hellish kinsugi was then broken as chunks of the earth rose into air. The energy that was pouring through the cracks coalesced into five coherent shapes.

These shapes were that of dragons—a roar on each face. They were past the roofs of any building in these districts. Like Kokujō Tengen Myo'ō, the Cero Oscuras, or any of the other wide-ranging attacks, this was not a subtle or a hidden thing. This was destruction with five heads—and each dove down towards the Hollow. There would be collateral, but at this point, Yachiru didn't care. There were very few in the Soul Society that could even rival her let alone beat her. Who knows how many of them even cared to try to raise an objection to this. Yachiru would fight her way. She would win her way.

I am the Cure