SPOILER: Click to show

Here Ye, Hear Ye
This particular instance takes place on a not so lovely day in the year of our New World 1950

The pile of letters was resting on the desk. They were disheveled, as though they had been dumped and forgotten. Some were thicker than others, and some only the merest scraps of whatever parchment could be found. The majority of them, however, were of one or two pages, some of which were so well-worn that either the recipient or author had vested so much time into reading, holding close, or writing.

A fire smoldered in the pit on the far side of the room, bits of parchment furling about along its edges. Had the writings been on their way to the great library in the sky, and these few, by assumed comparison, deemed much too important to let go? Their positioning would certainly suggest as much, though why the girl wouldn’t have taken them with her when she left was up in the air.

The child in question, all angst and attitude was reorganizing her private cell, as she saw it, for the eighth time that week. She had come across the stack of letters the very first time through, and had only now decided that they could go away. That they should go away. She was young and much too sentimental, however, and had no choice but to reread them; they were hers, why should she not?

That first night, her candle burned low as she reread them, over and over. Oh, how sweet they were, how young she was, how they made her feel. Nestled in her corner, the youngest of the Tanaka clan wept silently as her young mind fled the constraints of reality and broke into the realm of imagination. Her stick flew across the only empty bit of parchment she could find, her very soul bleeding onto the paper.

...Under the stars and moon...

The following nights, much the same occurred, though that initial wave of emotion had long since subsided. Like an addict, she hid her stash from any prying eyes (there were none) and securely barred herself within her cell. It was euphoric, her own brand of heroin, taking her away to secret places.

Oh, S!

Last night, she had come to the realization that she needed to get rid of them, hide them. They could not be seen by anyone’s eyes, not even hers. With the sunrise, and her father’s customary departure, Mai too rose from bed and broke from her cell. She quietly padded in her bare feet to the kitchen and peeked out through the curtain; yes, he was well down the road now!

With a victorious smirk playing at the corners of her mouth, she quickly returned to her quarters and reemerged with her stash. She went in the opposite direction, toward the common area, where a fire was always burning, assuming her father tended it before he left and when he returned. “Old man can’t bear the cold,” she muttered as she turned in the doorway; yes the fire was burning, and no, she did not realize this was for her benefit. The cold winter air seeped through the very core of the house and drained it of all its lively energy...what little there was, at that.

She pulled up a cushion and sat down next to the pit cross-legged and, one by one, began to throw the letters into the flames, watching with sad eyes as parts of her burned away. A particular one caught her eye, and she set it aside; maybe this one could stay, then another, and another, until eventually, she had eight or nine sheets set aside. They were the most recent, the most real, and she could not bear to see them go.

A tap at the window drew her from her reverie as the rest of the letters burned away into nothingness, hours later. She rose gingerly, unfurling her sleepy frame, and stepped over to the window, dropping her stack of saved letters on the empty desk. She peered every which way, finally catching sight of the yellow bird dancing from branch to branch of the naked willow. Lost in this beauty, she didn’t realize that the lock had clicked and the door had opened.

She whorled about and ran to her room, where she immediately began doing something else to remove any doubts about any suspicious behaviors she had been doing. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. Nope.

*-*

“Father, you’re hurting me...!” Mai exclaimed for the dozenth time as her father hauled her down the streets. Her feet struggled to keep pace with his strong, sure strides; the first time she had lagged, right outside their home, he had jerked her forward by the wrist and secured his grip about her delicate elbow. The pace had been relentless ever since. ”Please!”

[bgcolor=000000]It had been a long, tiring day (even if it was only a little past the noon hour) when the master of his own home stepped into the kitchen. Closing the door behind him quietly he set the loaf of bread under his arm atop the bit of counter space provided, along with a fresh jam in which one of his lovely underlings had offered. Mai will love this treat. He had thought when it had been gifted to him. Why he was being gifted he was still unawares, but a gift was a gift and he could not refuse and only offer thanks. That said, he could still share it.

Removing his haori he gave the thing a shake, dropping a bit of snow onto the floor by the door before he hung it up on a small hook. Rubbing his bare arms he then moved to the oven and pulled the heavy iron door down to see naught by embers. He shook his head and sighed. No matter how many times I tell her to keep a fire lite in here, she always lets it go out. He hoped the case was not the same for the fireplace in the common room.

To his relief, it wasn't.

Arms bare as they always were, he rubbed them roughly before tossing a couple of logs unto the small fire still burning before noticing Mai had left a cushion out in the middle of the room again. Another sigh and a shake of the head followed as he moved it back over against the wall and then he spotted them.

The simple thought of, what's this? I didn't know Mai wrote. came to his mind as he peered over the scribbling on the paper. He knew right away he shouldn't, but his curious nature got the best of him. Curiosity turned to wonder, and then to rage as he flipped through the papers. "Of all the..." He turned, papers rolled up tightly in one hand as he marched toward her room, feet thumping against the hardwood floors.

---

His grip did not falter, nor did his stride as the winds picked up and blew the tail of his haori up, causing it to slap violently in the wind. The angry sound it was making could only be matched by the crunching of the snow beneath his feet. She complained, begged again. He would not have it. He tugged on her arm a bit, his grip ever firm.

"Perhaps it is time for you to understand what actual pain is!" He spat back, a vein pulsing upon his forehead, hidden beneath the drawn up hood of his haori. "Keep up, it'll hurt less."

Mai did not care to be dragged, in this or any other fashion. Her father's grip on her elbow was that of a man holding the last of his most treasured addiction: harsh and unforgiving as only steel can be. She had cried out, not in pain but indignation, with each subsequent jerk as she invariably slackened; while tall in her own right, she was still short-strided compared to Malik's lengthy steps. Which, in his anger, were no doubt more powerful than standard.

She put up with the dragging, and his scathing comments about her ignorance, for several tense minutes. The last straw was a particular painful jerk as they rounded a corner.

All of a sudden, she was six years old again, shortly after her mother had passed on and her evil temper reared its ugly head. She screamed and stamped and flung and cried. She held her breath until she turned blue, bit and kicked and flailed. Naturally, she was easily contained by Malik's considerable toweringness, but that did not stop her.

Now, like then, Mai's face turned vibrantly red, her nostrils flared (now a lot less comical without those pudgy cheeks), and showed the whites of her eyes - a veritable wall-eyed fit with the determination to match. She dug her heels into the snow while simultaneously pulling her upperbody back and rotating toward him. With any luck, she'd either fall and lose the vice grip on her delicate elbow (even through the woolen cloak he'd thrown at her she could feel the bruising begin), or just lose the grip entirely. Either way, her voice rose to the pitch only an enraged teenager can muster, and her scream - a big ole' no- as she pulled (right into the general direction of Malik's ear, by the by) surely managed to shift some nearby stationary snow mounds.

~*~

Mai's skill at ignoring her father was very nearly mastered, and were it not for the fact that she was actually listening for him, she would have ignored him until he made physical contact. As those pounding footsteps neared closer and closer to her closed door, she launched herself into her nearest pile of things to be organized; unfortunately, this happened to be a stack of heavier clothes one would often wear for travelling. Malik, having been privy to the stack of letters that Mai had forgotten (and still had not recalled that she had left them out in the open), would have seen the most recent trio, a series of short sentences with an, allegedly, intent to elope with a thusfar entity referred to as 'S' to the neglected regions of the Rukongai on the night of the new moon. And if Malik knew his starcharts, or at least looked into the skies at nightfall, he would know that was not far away. And judging by the sound of his footsteps, he certainly did.

[bgcolor=000000]If fighting tooth and nail every step of the way didn't anger Malik enough, now his ear was full of her hollering. His ear would be ringing for hours now, he was sure of it. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he attempted to ignore it and kept his pace, or at least tried to. Her latest effort to be freed from his grip had paid of slightly and he was nearly twisted around.

That's it!

His free hand snapped up while his body whipped about to face her's. His hand in a cupping lock would be shooting toward her mouth to cover it as he looked at her right in the eye. Were his muzzling successful, or not he would then speak (in a growling tone if she started to bite his hand)."You listen and you listen good. I've brought you out here to show you something, something you need to see. But you've been too busy fighting me every step of the way to even notice your surroundings. Go, ahead. Take a look."

He himself would steal a glance at the snow covered 'huts' around them. Things were gravely different out here compared to the city in which he now resided. A seemingly, completely different world. He had come from this place, he knew full well the dangers of this area and how hard it made the people out here. Desperate and dangerous themselves at times.

"I'm trying to help you understand." He added on. Looking back into her eyes, the harsh tone regardless of what was going on between, gone. "Now, if you promise to behave I'll let you go, but you must stay at my side. It can be... Dangerous out here, more so than your deluded sense of romanticism can understand.

"Nod if you agree to my terms, otherwise we can go back to your screaming as I take you somewhere much, much worse. And I really, really do not wish to do that. Your young eyes are not ready for such sights yet."

---

"I'm coming in." He announced, his voice booming down the narrow hallway. A moment later, he did just that pushing the door open and stepping into the room to see Mai's things all over the place. It wasn't an uncommon sight, she often recognized her things and more often than not, all at once. However this time, with the letters in hand it was too much (more so when he saw just where she was).

"What're the meaning of these?" He asked, raising his hand which held the papers tightly, so tightly his knuckles had turned bone white. "Just what in the world do you think you're doing, running away?!" He yelled this time, something even when angered he rarely did. A truly rare sign of his frustration, indeed.

"You're home early," Mai muttered, or tried to, as her father strode into the chaos. With an exaggerated sigh, she draped the woolen cloak she was attempting to fold over her arm and turned around with a set of angry eyes ready to stare Malik's down. "Meaning of what?! Running....

"...away...?" her voice dropped and the remainder of her query fluttered into nothingness as her angry eyes widened into shock, bordering on fear. They honed in on the letters, letters she had written to herself years ago when she had first ventured toward purging exercises, no doubt furthering Malik's fears that she was, in fact, preparing to flee and live with some unqualified suitor in the dregs of society. A very pregnant pause, intensifying with each passing moment, preceded the silent mechanics of her delicate jaw as she sought the words she so desperately needed. When she finally found them, and the power to utter them, they came out with far less confidence than she had hoped; her voice trembled and shook with each syllable, rising to an unnatural, cracking pitch at the unintentional question: "That's....They're not... what they seem...?"

Mai's initial reaction, the realization that she had left a very, very private piece of her soul in a very, very public place, was exacerbating the swirling vortex of emotional turmoil of both parties; she, panicking that someone had read her, essentially, diary, and Malik's understandable immediate conclusion of an imminent, and prohibited, departure. In foresight, it would appear that the similarities between father and daughter were more than skin deep....


~*~


Her attempt to free herself was somewhat successful, as Malik had been wrenched around and released her elbow, even if for just a fleeting moment; the shock of actually managing to physically best her father (underhanded or not) stunned her for long enough for Malik to compose himself; by the time the Cheshire grin began to tug at the corners of her mouth, she had already been recaptured and restrained. Malik knew his daughter, or how to read her eyes at the very least, and the unspoken command to not bite resonated deeply within Mai. She had never seen him so angry, so enraged.

As he chided her about not noticing her surroundings, her eyes darted around; she had never been out of Seireitei, she didn't know how long it would take to get to where they were (Three? Four?!), let alone what it was. A wary sort of panic dawned over her face at the final ultimatum, and she meekly nodded. She did not want to make things worse (though she would very much like to lay into him for his brutal manhandling). For now, she would be very quiet, very subservient.

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[bgcolor=000000]Stuffing the papers into his pocket, Malik marched across the room and snatched a heavy traveling robe and threw it in Mai's face before snatching her by the arm. "I'm going to show you something. Put that on, it's cold out." And with that, he started dragging her out of the house grabbing his own cloak and footwear as he did so.

---

"Good." He allowed a sigh of relief to escape him as his body seemed to sag every so slightly. This really was a tiring experience, much more so than he had ever imagined. Though he should have known better, she had a stubborn streak in her, and when she set her mind on doing or not doing something, she generally fought tooth and nail until she got her way. This time was going to be different, this time she was going to see things from his point of view. This time she was going to see the truth of the world.

He released her grip and took a half step back, allowing her to get her bearings before he turned and motioned with a simple jerk of his head for her to walk next to him, which he would start to do in a slow stride. "We're in the Rukongai District," he was sure she had figured this out already but he was going to continue on anyway. "As I've told you, these people were once like you and me, or at least similar to us in that they too were once Shinigami, or were spawned by such people.

"As I've told you time and again over the years, I've worked with the first two districts to set up a relationship in which best serves our two peoples. We offer them protection, they offer us supplies and food. We scratch their back and they scratch ours. However, things are a bit different out here. Here, most of these poor people are out of our reach and choose to remain as such.

"Out here, in the Fourth District they're within reach of the Hollow." He stole a glance to see if any Rukongai Citizens were near by and if so, if they had brandished weapons. "Because of that, these people are for lack of a better word, wild. Out here some people steal from their neighbors and kin, rape women for their own sick pleasure and kill one another for a simple thing like a piece of bread. And would kill us now for our clothes, weapons and any money we have. But not before enjoying your delights." He didn't wish to absolutely terrify the girl, but he was sure he might be doing a good job of doing just that.

"Others dedicate their lives to keeping the Hollow at bay. They lack our numbers and training and as such, often fail. Die trying. Or they succumb to their wounds because they lack the medical skills to mend themselves. Or, they simply die of fever or other illnesses.

"I work as long as I do trying to right these awful things, Mai. I work as hard as I do to try to make a difference, to make things better. I've been working toward that goal since I left this part of the world many, many seasons before you or your sister were born. I've been successful, in some degree. But not everyone shares the same goals in their hearts, or are simply too proud or resentful to expect the help of another."

He paused, breathing in a deep breath before exhaling in an almost annoyed groan. "Many might see you, someone who has lived her entire life behind a big stone wall, safe and warm, well feed and clothed and hate you for it. Others will see you as a Shinigami, like they do me, and hate you for that simply because you have luxuries they lack or hold you responsible for the failings of another.

"Life is cruel, Mai. It has it's sweet moments to be sure, but with every happiness comes a turmoil. Kurisuna-Taicho knows that full well, as do we. Living in a fantasy world full of romantic visions would be splendid indeed. But that is not this world, our world. Your world. This is what you have been fantasizing about running away to.

"Is it everything you wished it to be?"

Mai stood ramrod straight as Mufasa, er, Malik, went off on his speech. He had taken a few steps, nearly an unanimous outstretched arm's length away, before she lurched forward and attached herself to his hip, or eight inches from it; her pace then matched his, strides almost so synchronous that they bordered on sheer creepiness.

She drew the once-thrown cloak (only now had she been able to somewhat straighten it after the sudden, painfully forced relocation) tightly about her almost-shivering frame, subconsciously hiding herself from the throes of the wilderness and unruly. Contrary to what she thought her father thought, which suffice to say wasn't much in regards to her thoughts due to her gender versus his, she did listen, she did understand, and she knew full well what he was saying:

Here was bad. Home was good. You feel awkward and out of place because you are out of place. You are perceived to be superior for all the reasons you feel you are. You may become a victim --

Her posture suddenly snapped to attention at the mention of the frequency of rapes, as far as the young brain warped the man's words, and she locked her frame into one of the utmost confidence; once upon a time she had read or overheard that a woman who had physical confidence was less likely to become a victim. She employed that now, inclining her nose ever so slightly and nearly inviting any who dare just to try.

Mai, of course, would do nothing were something to come at her. She had every confidence in her father's ability to protect her from harm, hence the entire purpose of this midwinter jaunt through the slums of which she had imagined fleeing to in her times of severe angst, and the anger which had fuelled it. She had seen it different, that the description of the Rukon was exaggerated to prevent this very type of moment, not for the slum it really was. While she was far from the sunshine and daisies state of mind young girls had a knack for dreaming in, she didn't expect it to be so bad. Between her and her Self, this was a place of serenity and freedom, where she could live a life free from the constraints that inevitably imposed themselves. No worries, no responsibilities, just living the life she wanted.

Sheets of wood lay over crumbling walls. Tattered rags hung flaccid over what might've been a door or window. Thousands and thousands of eyes and breaths and memories pressed against her from every which way she dare imagine, and those she did not. Tears began to well up in her violet eyes, a slight shimmer over the satin sheen. She wouldn't cry, not yet. Not even with that cruel, biting wind cutting through her face and the curled tendrils of white hair softening her face.

Oh, but she was close.



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[bgcolor=000000]His slow trot continued, his gaze shifting to Mai every other third step. He was watching both her and the surroundings closely. The latter was obvious, to see for any signs of danger. He doubted very much that any of the Rukongai citizens would attack him, an obvious Taicho of the Five, due to the garb he wore, but still.. He was wary of any possible threats regardless. The former, he was watching for signs that his words were sinking in, getting through all that... Angst and childish delusion.

He believed they had.

"You've not answered my question." His hands found themselves and started rubbing off of one another, the friction would help them fight off the cold. He knew the same could not be said for his bare face which was no doubt cherry red. "I so say to you again, is it everything you wished it would be?"

Mai's jaw clenched and released, the sinewy mechanisms visibly working through her duress. Her face, devoid of any obvious emotion, was drained of color, even the flush from the cold was much too subdued; a touch to her cheek would reveal a clammy texture, signifying her state of physical shock. What little emotion shown, a widening of the eyes, flared nostrils, upturned nose, was conflicting: she was scared, maybe even terrified, but she was also angry.

And angry was much, much safer.

Internally, her mind whirred and clicked on overdrive; while her eyes defiantly blazed right over Malik's shoulder, magically shifting to a different point each time he tried to look into them - to look into those hazel vessels at this point would be detrimental to this delicately maintained façade she wore - she was carefully constructing her arguments.

'I did not get a word in at all,' she thought. 'He misunderstood! I could not explain!

'You don't understand! You never listen! Dragging me all the way out here, making me feel a fool, does absolutely nothing! You do what, try to teach me something? Teach me what?!

'I don't know what all goes on out here, no, but I aim to find out and fix the problems you've created!' In her mind, she had won this little battle, made the man before her cower like a little child cornered by the bogeyman in his darkest dreams. He had begged for her forgiveness, vowing to listen and never jump to a conclusion again. Yes, he was wrong to have assumed as much. No, he didn't realize that the notes were written by the same hand. He was sorry, oh so sorry, oh forgive him please!

A defiant smirk would then caress her face, her hand would extend and his trembling lips would delicately touch the largest of the gems on her bejeweled fingertips--

Instead, her voice gave a mighty crack as she whispered, "You were wrong."

Edit for fat-fingering :/
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[bgcolor=000000]"Was I?" He questioned rubbing the back of his neck, he was getting quite a knot back there. Though the stiff, dull pain in it was nothing compared to the continued pain in the butt in which Mai had been. "It would not be the first time, nor will it be the last I suppose.

"Everyone is wrong sometimes, and it is admitting that you are in the wrong that makes you grow, makes your grow more wise. From it you learn and adapt, never make that mistake again and pass along your knowledge to those whom are closest to you." His stride turned, 180 degrees from what it had presently been. He started walking home.

"I was trying to wake you up girl, let you know that your problems were so, underwhelming, compared to the suffering of others. I've tried to help them, as I have tried to help you. But perhaps you're right, perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps you simply do not understand. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you're just a selfish child.

"I'm going home, I have work to do. Someone has to keep a roof over our heads and try to help these poor people." He cast her a look over his shoulder, brief albeit, before looking back toward from whence he came. "And I was hoping that you would decide to, like your sister, father and your late mother."

Mai did not move, presumably taking in everything Malik had said. The tears that had been threatening to well up and fall did just that, and as Malik passed her, she gave a great shudder as that particular control broke. Still, she made no sound and made no attempt to dry her eyes (silent tears were preferred over audible tears).

Until he pulled out the mother card.

Chiyoko's death had hit Mai hard, harder than either Chie or Malik (and likely harder than the two combined). As a young girl of six years old, who had spent every hour of every day, waking or sleeping, in constant contact with her mother, to have that pillar removed and never replaced was detrimental to Mai's development. There was no fathomable way to heal, or even to console, the loss her very soul had taken. Decades passed and while Mai had gradually worked through the affect the loss had brought, the sting of Chiyoko's death had not lessened.

All those memories came rushing back; the day they buried her, the following months of despair and destruction, and all the rage at being unable to express herself the way she needed to. The mental gag broke, the invisible restraints snapped, and all that pain came gushing outward in a single strangled, forlorn howl of the utmost despair. The proud posture she displayed so readily crumbled under the guilt set upon her; her visage broke, head drooped, and shoulders heaved with the thick emotions taking control.

That pristine white hair, insofar the only bit of Malik the girl attributed to her phenotype, gently swept over her shoulder, shielding her face from all without the audacity to stare straight on. The tears, a conglomeration of liquid anger and despair, contoured the delicate curves of Chiyoko's face and left harsh, red tracks in their wake. An unnatural smattering of steamy brine cascaded onto the crunchy, unmarked snow below, pocking it.

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[bgcolor=000000]He had not yet taken ten steps when he noticed the lack of footfalls in the snow from Mai, he paused and turned. What father wouldn't? There he saw a sight he had not scene in quite while, she was crying. He didn't sigh, no he couldn't risk her hearing such. He wondered, if only briefly if he should go comfort her, or simply leave her to herself for the time being. He chose the latter and simply remained where he stood and watched in silence. This was good for her. He told himself, assuring himself with a nod. A bit cruel perhaps, but good for her none the less.

After a few minutes of watching his daughter silently sob, his damned emotions got the better of him and he began to move forward to embrace her, however he was interrupted by a bone piercing screech. He paused, eyes wide, sword hands moving to envelop the grips of his swords. "Mai, to me now!" They had ventured too far out, Malik's presence attracted it, he was sure of it. But where was it? What was it? "Quickly girl, move it!"

His body turned toward the noise, it was coming from Malik's left side and was being followed by large, quick moving, footfalls. He cursed his luck and readied to draw. Not yet, too soon. He would need any element of surprise he could muster at this point.

From a seemingly deserted shack, the beast erupted.

It was big, perhaps eight feet high at it's bone jutted shoulder, and nearly twice as long from what he could wager. The Hollow was partly covered in a matted greyish brown fur coat, it's spine, shoulder and hip bones piercing through it's flesh like knives. It's twin tails looked like leather whips, and the claws on it's four paws were easily a foot long a piece. But it was those fangs that caught Malik's eye at first. Dozens of dozens of fangs, each the length of his shorter sword, and above them the cat-like creatures red glowing eyes.

"Run!" Malik cried, his arms starting to draw as the salivating beast pounced toward him. He had to hold it off, had to kill it. He would not watch his youngest be food for such a creature, nor would he let her see his father, possibly, fall while trying to protect her.

Oblivious to the going, pausing, and return of her father, Mai continued her steady stream of tears, body wracking now in violent sobs. As such, being lost in her own sad, sad world, she didn't register sounds that Malik had heard. In fact, she only thought she heard him call to her.

Slowly, she rose her head, red-faced and blotchy skinned, to glance at the way he had gone; then the edginess of his imperative, that command to move, reached her ears and filled her with panic. She heard the collapse of the structure in the wake of the monster, felt the vibrations through the soles of her frozen feet. The monster itself, propelling itself forward on those massive, deadly claws, elicited a raw, terrified shriek from the depths of Mai's delicate throat.

Malik's second command was lost in the pitch of Mai's scream. Even if she had heard, even if she could have, she was unable to do anything. Her body betrayed her, limbs rendered to quivering mounds of jelly, very core reduced to near nothingness. Frozen to the spot by sheer horror, destined to die by a ravaging, emaciated monster.

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[bgcolor=000000]Her scream gained the creature's attention. It's massive jaws turning to eye up the far easier (and not that it would know it, younger) prey. It let loose another yowl as it's claws dug into the frozen ground, turning it's long body toward her and in a pounce, began to charge toward her. Eyes wide with fury and fright, Malik let out a cry of his own. He attempted to scream "NOOO!" but the words were caught in his throat and instead it simply sounded like a mad man's cry of anguish. He drew his sword in a flash and gave the creature chase.

Too quick, he thought as he realized the creature was too fast for him to catch on foot, at least this way. His mind raced for a solution, he knew what he could do but the result would simply end in him getting run over, trampled by a hungry beast whom would then feed upon his child. And then to be fed upon himself later, no doubt. But then it came to him in a flash of inspiration.

His image would then flicker and vanish from sight, the sound of a butterfly's wings being heard in his wake. A split second later Malik was above the creature, dropping onto it's back (just off to the left of those wickedly sharp bones erupting from it's spine), his dual blades biting into it's thin hide of fur. In response the creature let out a roar of equal pain and fury as the Shinigami twisted his blades, the creature in response veering off to one side and crashing into a nearby structure.

While possibly futile, Malik again shouted out a simple yet urgent command to Mai. "RUN!" He was unsure if he would be heard over the beast, but he had to try and what more, he had to hold on for dear life. At least, until the beast stopped running and bucking.

Or until he figured out a way off the damned thing without leaving his weapons behind.

Snapping and snarling, contorting and unfurling simultaneously, the beast lost focus of the easier prey the moment the blades sunk into its hairy hide and the subsequent collision. It staggered, nearly collapsing, but shortly righted itself and focused on the new annoyance; while not as practiced as the bovine it unintentionally mimicked, its acrobatics were still a danger to Malik's person: with each powerful expulsion, the jarring and positioning of its limbs would threaten to impale the shinigami from multiple angles.

Eight seconds or not, the massive abomination abruptly halted, hunkering down on its haunches and let loose a mighty roar. Its head snaked around to bite at the man, like a cat to a flea, and when that proved unsuccessful, the rolling of lean muscle would signal the flea to an impending aerial assault via clawed foot. Again, positioning would threaten Malik's person should he not proactively seek a safer location or find the sweet spot.

The girl, deaf to her father's plea over the aural (and visual, no doubt) onslaught before her, did abide by the command in her own way. When her father and the beast collided into that haphazard shack, it seemed to wake her up; she flinched, cowering down and covering her face from the rubble that didn't come her way. When they rose and began their dance, she sank to her knees; the fear broke, as much as an impending demise can break, and she began to haul herself away, elbow-dragging her way through the snow.

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[bgcolor=000000]Clinging, that's the best was to describe what Malik was doing on right now, or actually no. Holding on for dear life, yes a far better metaphor. His attack, while effective in drawing attention away from Mai, had put Malik in a dangerous spot. Were he to let go he would loose his only weapons and the wounds he had inflicted as of now were no where near enough to kill the beast if he did so. So instead he had to hold on until it tried a tactic to get him off, in which he himself could rip his blades free and leave the beast's hide.

At first, this did not happen. No, those pointed bones made sure of that. Were he to move he would be gored by them, so he remained as still as possible, though his legs were flailing back and forth slamming against the creature painfully. Then it tried to bite him, and for that he released the left blade and rolled onto his side to narrowly avoid being chewed in two. As soon as the beast started, it ceased and began it's next tactic, and gave Malik the opening he was waiting for.

Re-griping his short sword he pulled his legs up under him and kicked off with everything he had, via another use of shunpo. This would tear the blades free from the furry hide and allow Malik to avoid getting treated like an annoying tick. As luck would have it when he reappeared, six meters in the air he was above some souls's house, and thus dropped upon it with a thud. Because of the snow, he lost his footing and slipped, tumbling down the roof and onto the ground, with a far more painful, crashing, thud.

Dazed and a little stunned, Malik looked up and around to see one, where the beast was and two, where Mai got to. "I'm getting too old for this..."

Crying out in a frustrated victory, the monstrous feline let loose another roar. Its massive head snaked about, lips curling as it growled, searching for Malik after his sudden departure. It didn't need to look for long, as the sound of collapsing rubble was a dead giveaway. It spun on its haunches and launched itself at the dazed man, maw opening wide enough to take a hefty chunk out of his prey.

Not all that far off from the chaos Malik was enduring, a slumbering form was stirring. It had been napping, or more accurately, hibernating, and the roaring, yowling, shouting, screaming and final structure collapsing had functioned as an unwelcome alarm. It cocked its head toward the sounds of battle, ears twitching as it found the source, curled its upper lip into a snarl, and growled lowly. Groggily it made its way to its feet and set off to investigate. Or destroy.

Mai flinched and curled into the smallest form she could as the sounds of crashing wood and stone resounded behind her. She choked out another sob, not daring to even look at the results over her shoulder (not that she would be able to see anything due to her position), and continued to drag herself forward. Again, she shrunk at the reverberating roar, though this time it propelled her into a mad scrabble to regain her footing; upon success, or the third attempt at, she managed to break into a staggering sort of jog, slipping every other stride in attempt to get away.

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[bgcolor=000000]The fall hadn't hurt as much as one would expect it to, yes it still hurt of course falling from that height onto frozen ground (albeit snow covered). Though thankfully his buttocks broke his fall. He would have trouble sitting later, no doubt.

Moving to his hands and knees, his eyes had already begun to regain their focus, but things were still a bit of a blur. What he could see was a greyish brown blur turn and launch itself toward him. Or, at least he thought it turned, he couldn't be completely sure, but the bit about it's general direction that he was positive about.

Quickly pushing himself up onto his knuckles and bent toes and threw himself off to his right side (the beast's left) just in time to avoid the snapping jaws. With 'deft skill' he brought his reverse gripped short blade up, beneath the creature's now closed jaw and aimed to stab it, whilst simultaneously he snapped his right arm about, blade posed to stab higher up, assuming that is where it's eye should be. Regardless of if he were right or wrong, he would plunge his blade with everything he had, until he was knuckle deep in the creature's life fluids if need be, to make his stab true.

He was attempting to stab the beast directly in the brain. All the while hoping Mai was okay. Nay, praying.

The tail of Malik's haori slipped through the beast's teeth, as its head whipped about to give chase; as such, the man's attack, previously destined to miss its target, scrape the bonemask, and give the cat a few less whiskers, sunk deep, deep into the gleaming red eye. The viscera flowed freely over the blade and onto Malik, steam rising and nearly hissing in the waning sunlight. Guttural yowling immediately followed, shifting into a primal, raging howl as Malik would no doubt cause further harm by twisting the blade. Eyelid clamped shut, it tried to get away by raising its head and attempting to send it flying with several violent shakes of its massive head; it only served to exacerbate the pain, however, and in an attempt to save the left eye, shortly stopped and opted for a newer, safer approach: clawing the fucker to death. Forepaw rose, head tilted, and --

At the violent, painful yowl reaching its sensitive ears, the second beast answered with an enraged one of its own. It paused in its advance toward the conflict and angled its nose toward the darkening sky, inhaling deeply as the sweet scent of terror wafted by on a faint, brushing wind. The scarred lip rose in a Cheshire snarl, and it pivoted on its good haunch, familial instinct losing to that of survival. One rear leg tucked up at the stifle, the jagged, tumescent scar flaming bright red in the biting air, it made the shorter journey three-legged in the direction of that sweet, succulent, terrified scent --

Oblivious to the danger looming in her immediate future, green to the sounds of both battle and the hunt, Mai halted her escape; she turned and stared in the direction whence she'd scrabbled, numb-faced and wide-eyed. Her safety assumed, she stood on shaky legs, leaning against a ramshackle structure that may have been a fencepost once upon a time to catch her breath and calm herself down enough to actually think, think!!, and figure out what had to be done next; had she been aware of her father's predicament, and the moderate degree of success that had halted her staggered and uncouth escape, she would have swelled with some sort of emotion akin to pride before expelling what tea remained in her stomach from breakfast. As it was presently, only the nausea rose up, and as she turned to vomit, --

--a sickening squelching sound followed a sharp, nauseating ripping as the last bit of the optic harnesser lost out to inertial forces and popped out of the bloodied and destroyed socket. Gravity, in all its nastiness, would dictate a collision course with Malik's person. Pride, it all its steadfastness, would suggest that he do his utmost best to retain the slimy grip of his shorter blade.

Enucleation was a bitch.

-- relishing the ease of the hunt. Its ears twitched in tandem with the tail stubs that remained, nostrils flaring with each exerted breath, ensuring it was on the correct trail. A sudden explosion of scents rushed up -- youngfreshterrifiedflusheddelicious -- in a gust of that biting wind. It spurned it onward, and with a painful stretch of the wounded leg, it broke into a kadywompus, drunken charge, Cheshire grin beneath that bonewhite mask opening wide.

-- and met with the second face of death of the day. It was, in her shaken and discombobulated guesstimation, twice the size of the first. The stegosaurus-like bone spires jumbled and shivered with each massive stride. Emaciated and atrophied, it had clearly reached the end of its reign of terror; what bones weren't visible beneath the skin were hidden by shaggy, matted (bloodied?) fur. As it grew closer, milky, scarred eyes boring into her, steamy breath kissing her blanched cheeks, Mai did the only thing she could: vomit into its oncoming, wide open esophagus while going weak in the knees.

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[bgcolor=000000] Disgust.. That was an emotion Malik was burying deep, a in far back corner of his mind as he plucked out the creature's eye, buying himself a moment to gain more of a foothold. He couldn't allow himself to feel anything, not right now. No, he had to concentrate on the task at hand, even if all he wanted to do was shudder and shriek about the mess he was not only in, but covered in. Fun fact, eye juice does not smell good, nor does it taste to swell either, and Malik whom had parted his lips only a centimeter at the most, was now doing both.

Standing tall now, Malik unleashed a volley of quick slashes at the creature's front leg and face. It was his attempt to force the creature to topple over, in which Malik would swiftly get the hell out of dodge and move in for the killing blow. Admittedly, he was also trying to achieve that right now as well. He was the kind of man who liked to eat his cake and have it to, so why not right?

Elsewhere..

The hollow recoiled, it's nostrils flaring in disgust as it batted at it's nose with a raised paw forcing it to put more weight on it's wounded limb. This not only caused the beast an amount of pain, but did something new. Already this creature wanted to eat this girl, not out of malice just hunger. She was prey it the predator, food and the diner. It was as simple as that.

However, being 'blinded' by the smell of vomit and then caused a slight (quite a bit actually) amount of pain the beast was suddenly livid with his soon-to-be meal. It let out a booming shriek of anger before it suddenly started to charge blindly forward, neck lowered and maw open wide.

Malik's attacks were not as easy as he had hoped; the beast being as large as it was had the advantage of greater weight and the understanding of "bigger is better." While a little blood and gore would no doubt not hinder the man, a large quantity such as this would prove to be a much larger hindrance than he had anticipated -- perhaps the difficultly keeping a grip on his blades would force him to slow down a bit, lest he end up punching the bony thing to Oblivion.

Rage, too, was a powerful motivator, and the sheer amount of adrenaline flowing through the beast's system would encourage its already erratic behavior. Howling and stamping, swiping and hopping, it sought to level everything in its immediate vicinity, Malik, building, random rubble and all. The crimson rainfall peppered the rapidly-turning-to-mush snow, adding yet another layer of slickness to the mixture; if Malik wanted to eat that cake of his, he had to work off all those excessive calories beforehand. Doctor's orders.

Mai, in her collapse into the snow, narrowly avoided being squashed by the rampaging elder. In with the current motif of proportions relative to success, the larger strides of this particular fiend made it very difficult, without the use of its precious eyes, to stamp out the target. Like the younger, which still had one eye to spy with and thus aim, it stamped around and absolutely massacred the ground beneath it, however it was a good length and a half (of itself) beyond the one who had so severely wounded it. Bigger is not always better, said the ant to the boot.

Unfortunately, to the elder's utmost bestial delight, the poor, terrified child let loose a gut-wrenching, bowel-liquifying shriek of imminent doom, no doubt alerting any sentient being within the radius of her shriek to her immediate location. Which, to Malik's lesser-delight (hopefully the tool [<,,<] wouldn't take delight in his daughter's ULTIMATE DEMISE), but at the miraculous distraction it brought; the smaller, ambulatory hunk of shredded cat-cow-thing would pawz [ha, word humor] and physically look in the direction of the shriek and turn a blind eye [>__>] toward the bipedal slap-chop. Shamwow!

[bgcolor=000000]Indeed the 'slime' had slowed him down, but he still swung as hard and as fast as he could whilst maintaining a grip. However as he saw more and more that his present action was futile, Malik decided a change of tactic was in order. So, he turned tail and ran.

Rage was a powerful motivator, however it also blinded those to things right in front of them. Like a trap door or an explosive device primed to go off at any moment. In this way, Malik hoped that as the beast thumped around attempting to flatten everything in it's wake, it would not notice Malik flew the coop. At least not right away.

If that were the case, the Shinigami would act quickly and use clean snow to quickly wash his swords and hands, not terribly far from the beast but far enough to buy him some time. Were he to defeat this foe he would need a solid grip on the situation.. And of course his swords too. This would also give him a moment or two to look around for traces of Mai. Her footprints in the snow, perhaps even the sound of her scream. It would all depend on the next few moments.

Jaws salivating with anticipation, the larger beast was smiling like the cat who caught the canary. Oh, what luck. This little meal on 'wheels' was just the pick me up it needed and what more, it was either to frightened or stupid to flee. All the better.

The hollow sneered and snorted out a laugh as it's chesire cat grin widened revealing all of its discoloured, yet still shiny, wet fangs. All the better to eat her with, mmmm. It's claws dug into the frozen ground beneath it like hot knives through butter, a show of the creature's raw destructive power and an act it was doing quite on purpose, if only to cause the frail little meal to faint in horror as her end marched toward her.

What sweet, succulent joy! Not only had the annoyance fled in an quite an ego-boosting fashion, but he had gained a new, younger, sweeter target! Pain momentarily forgotten, it sharply about-faced and bounded off toward the sweet, sweet terrified shrieking young thang some distance away. If the thing had the capability to subject the world to an ostentatious, evil laugh, it would (instead, we have to pretend that it's laughing a lot like Malbat's evil joker giggles in its peabrained little head).

Sfx: bwahahahahahaaaaaaaaa. BWAHAHAHAHAAAA. Heeheehee. Hoohoohoo. Whoooo. Hehehahahoohooteehee. Yukyukyuk.

In that short, ominous interlude between preys, poor little Mai continued her shrieks. There was a lovely (to some) increase in range and volume, each marking a

[Wtf is with the entire world going 'hokay?']

different level of her terror; naturally, this level rose to an unnatural pitch as the advancing beastie advanced, which probably made things worse (and better!) in the spiraling fashion fate often throws at select individuals. But a savior was on the way, and in interest of moving things along, the beastling collided into the beastie and the intent to cause a ravaging and destructive duel to the DEATH began.

In short, Malik had better hurry the h up before Grounded Mai became Ground Mai, on sale and about to expire.

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[bgcolor=000000]As quickly as he began, he quickly finished. The result wasn't perfect but it was enough to improve his hold upon the weapons in which were as a part of him as the skin upon his body. As such with cleaner weapons in hand, Malik was on his feet and quickly dashing off after the creature in which was now heading toward his daughter. It was then for the first time he noticed the true danger she was in. Cursing his fate he jumped into action with another use of shunpo.

His image would flicker into view a few feet above the larger of the two beasts, well not directly above. In reality he would be directly between the two of them as he descended from the sky. As he dropped he twisted his body so that he was start to roll forward, albeit clumsily as he was no gymnastic master, blades flashing as he did so. It was his intention to drop between the two creature's head and lashing out, slicing into each one's neck's deeply in an attempt to hit an artery.

SPOILER: Click to show

Aye, I'm back. Sorry for the hold up.

Once again, in the interest of expediting things so that life may resume its natural course, Malik caused but a fleshwound as he prettily floated down between the two snarling, snapping, ebil cats fighting over the tasty flesh of his youngest child. Actually, it was more of a grotesque shave. Half those whiskers, gone!

MADNESS.

Malik's goal, which should be to see his daughter to safety whilst dodging the massive clawed legs about to shred her (and him) to bit, would be greatly affected by the dancin' fiends, which may or may not have been intoxicated (yes, they were; the sweet scent of terrified prey to a predator...ohmai). Regardless of this third slight-to-obscure reference, Malik would now find himself with the opportunity to...no easy, face-saving way to say this, cripes, pretend to be a certain father in a very similar certain situation in a very different universe.

Only without the killing, since they're doing a fantastic job of it themselves. See?! The big one just snapped the neck of the little one! So much for family values....

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SPOILER: Click to show

Just a heads up, this crap post will most likely be crap D:

His attacks were frantic and ill timed. This was becoming something of a growing chain of events it seemed. All but one of his attacks had actually proven any useful. Realizing that if he continued this course of action he would wind up either getting himself killed or worse, his daughter. So, change of plan.


Hitting the snow he tucked into a roll before springing to his feet, albeit shakily, and sprang into a run as he slipped his twin weapons into their homes. Breathing heavily he would go in for a slide across the wet ground, wrapping his arms around his youngest daughter as reached her before kicking with his feet to carry them as far as he could with a single jump of shunpo.

Which in this case was behind a small wooden wall/fence. He would then cup her mouth to prevent any screaming which might erupt. "Ssssh."

There was a yowl, and a horribly heinous snapping noise, and a squishy-sort of squash-splash thing. Oh, crunching, can't forget that. Ohdeargodthatisahugegonnabeahuuuuuuuuuuuuuu--

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII" and then, upon a renewing intake, "Ooompfh!!!"

x.x

~*~

Mai's eyes had widened to the point of near-bulging as she struggled to scramble back as best she could through the nasty mixture of slush, blood, and a hint of vomit. Her indoor attire, the fine grey woolen fabrics she had so painstakingly persisted for, was now officially ruined, bogged down with all the fluid it had been subjected two over the last few hours (she could have done without the pants, but don't tell Malik; she tempertantrumed her way to several expensive pairs). This additional weight hindered her attempt to scuttle back, and along with the thick helping of a crusty, icy sludge biting into her soft hands and swallowing her feet whole, Mai's escape was soon to be one from life instead of death.

Even with Malik's unhelpful and ignored intervention, the snapping beasties continued their deadly dynamic battle, claws, paws, and all. The blood pouring from the many wounds, spattering on the snow, Mai, Malik, and general area, slicked things up even further; the heat of the bodily fluid melting into the snow with a reviling hsssssssss

[[thank you Mr Creeper]]

as it steamed and congealed into a grotesque, sickly-sweet crimson soup. The hissing and yowling escalated beyond the tolerable range, bodies colliding and crunching, bony prominences scraping and shuddering, rubble and Mean Kitteh Soup flying every which way as the duel continued. Malik, fortunately, would find himself landing on a steadily decreasing mound of gradually pinking snow before rolling through the sludging soup to the very edge of a sizable scar in the barren earth, leaving his takeoff rather rough and in very poor form due to lack of solid footing.

Pause to let the image of Mal wading through tomato soup and navigating some rocky terrain sink in. Resume.

The unexpected collision did not knock the breath of out Mai, nor the rude grappling draw her attention from the sickening sound that rent the air; the larger beast had managed to grab the thick, barbed neck of the younger, crunched downward, shattering the spine and impaling itself through the roof of its mouth. Arteries severed, blood spurted, and giants came a-tumblin' down in the direction of the Tanakas. In the nick of time, so it seemed, did the man manage to forcibly relocate the duo; this sudden shock, coupled with the calcified spire racing toward her general location, brought up another one of those bowel-liquefying screeches; or more accurately, a scream being reduced to a sudden, silent-by-comparison expulsion due to an unwelcome slam into a fence. Was tired Malik tired? Did tired Malik misjudged?

[[Most likely]]


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[bgcolor=000000]Looking over his shoulder he watched as the beasts fell dead, panting he frowned a bit. I really am out of shape. He thought to himself as he pushed himself up and staggered back a half step away from Mai. But this only lasted for a moment, for the instant he regained his composure he was frantically giving her a once over. "Are you alright, you aren't hurt are you? It didn't scratch or bite you did it?"

Oh yes, fatherly concern, ignoring the mess the two (well four really) of them had made around them, not to mention the pink paste which was the snow. Was he crying? No no, just a few tears.. No that wasn't a choked sob, nor was that a sniffle. Well it was a sniffle, but he was cold. Yes, it was from the cold that's all.

Malik would receive no answer to his panicked questionings, as Mai was wholly checked out; nobody was home upstairs, or if she was, she was knocked out cold. Her eyes, glossy with the shock of a sudden change, gazed in whichever direction she faced, and her normally pale complexion was further blanched, and with the blood spattered all over her person, she certainly looked much like a corpse, a saturated, ensanguined corpse.

Her only testament to living was the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she strove to regain her breath; between the screaming and the smack that knocked the wind out of her, she was fairly devoid of that precious oxygen. So, the heaving shoulders started and, and the breaths came out in wheezing gasps, and one violent gasp later, as though someone had thrown a switch, Mai threw herself at her father's shins.

[bgcolor=000000]Kneeling, he gently wrapped his arms around her as best he could, giving her a reassuring hug. "Sssh, it's alright. They're gone they can't hurt you anymore." What more could he do? Her eyes, finally opened to the true nature of the world could not be shut. So all he could do was comfort her and point her in the path she would need to follow.

Though he secretly would hope she'd work with her sister, Chie. But things very rarely went the way Malik wanted them. This occurance was evidence of that.

"Come, up on your feet." He said in the best soothing voice he could manage after a few minutes. "We'll get you home, into a hot bath, followed by fresh clothes and a hot home cooked meal." He gave her his brightest smile and gingerly cupped her face. Things would be fine, he was certain of it. She was made of tough stuff.

"How about I make a nice pot of stew, hm? I know how much you love my cooking."