One obstacle in the way of revenge. (Akira/Amaranta/Kyo/Rei)

"Tch."

Pesquisa pinpointed the myriad spiritual pressures rumbling throughout the realm. At the core of her soul, that aspect of death roared out, demanding that she chase the elusive glory any battle In the distance might award her. What was that term in the human world again? A deal's a deal? Hopefully, his benefits matched his words. Turning her gaze toward him, Amaranta waved her hand dismissively.

There was little to be done about the disappointment now. After all, she could easily handle whatever threats awaited them here and rush toward the festivities after she handled business with the mysterious man here. Additionally, she owed him some measure of thanks. Without him, she didn't quite know how she would've arrived here without getting into contact with some arrancar who had plans of attacking the Soul Society. In other words, the disappointment didn't have to be everlasting. Reinforced by that thought alone, Amaranta reached over to ruffle his hair as she chuckled.

"As much as I want to bitch about my disappointment, without you, I don't know how I would've made it here otherwise. Don't be surprised if I go off and do my own thing after I help you seize your little goods. My soul's practically begging for me to go out on the front lines. Anyway, handle your business quickly so I can---"

Like a sonar on high alert, she recognized the presence of a Shinigami attempting to employ a sneak attack. Grinning from ear to ear at her attempt, she lifted a foot upward and slammed it downward to shatter the small field of ice spikes with relative ease. Turning her head in the woman's direction, she maintained an expression of sheer amusement as she called out to her.

"What do we have here? Didn't expect company this fast. Now you can run along and give up on your attempt at playing hero or you can stay here and fight. Should you stay and fight..."

She shot forward like a bolt of lightning, hovering over her like a predator sizing up their prey.

"Then I hope this place has good health insurance."

Ball was in her court now, eh?

A flash step carried the 20th Seat of the 8th Division forward, his eyes surveying the situation with a practiced understanding that only an architect could quite manage. He understood that his subordinate's life was of value, of course. If he could, he would save her. But their duty as shinigami demanded that both of their lives be put in danger as necessary.

If that meant he had to focus on the one clearly in charge, he would do so without a moment's hesitation.

"Here I am!"

The voice of a proud man echoed through the halls emphatically. Kyo was not the sort to waste time with courtesies of honor or good sportsmanship in a real fight. That wasn't the way of an upstanding shinigami. It wasn't the way of the Sawachika. Reiatsu flared outward as his shikai was unleashed, bolting forward as he released its true name.

"Fuu! Rin! Ka! Zan!"

Another shunpo carried the man forward, faster than ever now, as the spear stabbed toward Akira in a flurry of stabs faster than any typical warrior could have achieved.

This would draw some attention, he had to imagine. Maybe even had to hope.

"Mm... Boring."

Some small part of her thought the one-eyed woman might engage her in combat, emboldened by a sense of duty or even bravery. Shifting from offense to a poor attempt at goading them into fighting her partner might have worked if Amaranta found any merit in them, let alone an inkling of truth.

He didn't give her any orders. He merely promised her a battlefield for her to savor until her heart's content. Did it play out that way so far? Of course not. Not even close. Be that as it may, he acknowledged his miscalculation.

Whether he would amend that error or not was largely in his hands, but that didn't mean she would abandon him because of it. They had a deal after all, no? When Kyo approached and attacked Akira, Amaranta ignored the woman, and set her feet forward, vanishing and reappearing in the blink of an eye.

When she reappeared in full view, her fist shot toward Kyo's ribs like a bullet fired at high velocity, targeting his ribs. If successful, she would place a hand at her hips, tilting her head to the side with a grin, pointing a finger back at the spiritual signatures exploding and disappearing in the distance.

"These small fry won't even count as good appetizers. Sheesh. I don't know too much about you as a fighter, but you should be plenty capable of handling these guys with enough effort, right? One's busy trying to turn us against each other, and the other seems like he's the only one with a pair of balls. Since I've brought you this far, I'll treat myself to some actual fun. Sound good?"

Kyo was not, by any metric, the most physically capable man in Soul Society. That did not mean, however, that he was incapable. And it certainly did not mean that he was a pushover by any stretch of the imagination. He evaded the incoming kido, mostly, by way of having already had the upper hand in the engagement to begin with, and struck them away with the head of his zanpakuto if they got too close. The woman's approach, meanwhile, caught him off guard only by merit of Sonido's subtlety; even then, he was quick. Quick enough that, though the punch nevertheless connected with him, it was a relatively glancing blow.

In a real bout, Kyo had no time for quips. He had no interest in making some banter with the opponent. When he spoke, he spat the words out of his mouth like an insult, his footwork adjusting only barely as he did so.

"Bakudo 21: Sekienton."

A cloud of obscuring red smoke exploded from Kyo's form, the emergency escape spell a tool of countless shinigami to get away from an unlikely victory. It was more than enough, he had to reason, to pick up his much weaker subordinate, to re-establish a more favorable situation.

However, that wasn't Kyo's intention. In a situation like this, it wasn't even practical. He'd gauged the Arrancar woman's speed from her single step, studied eyes more than sufficient to piece together her capabilities just from that movement. Everything that happened on the battlefield was just one more piece of the greater picture for him.

Superior footwork. Superior speed. That was all Kyo needed to once again bolt to Akira, his spear this time not intent on a flurry of strikes. A single strike, a single step, were what Kyo led with as he burst all at once from the cover of the red smoke. The butt end of the polearm whipped toward Akira in an arc, with the strength of a man who cut stone with his bare hands. He would crush this man into dust if necessary, regardless of what happened to his own life.